by Chris Raven
Something is appearing in the middle of the circle, something dark that seems formed of condensed air and darkness. That shapeless mass revolves around itself. Occasionally a tendril shows up and it disappears again. It looks like an arm or a tentacle that tries to catch us, but it remains retained within the magic circle that Eloise has traced.
“In God’s name, I command you to leave. In the name of St. Michael, I command you to leave.” The dark mass writhes as if Eloise’s words would hurt him. “In the name of God, I command you to leave this place. In the name of God, I expel you, evil spirit.”
The being is still writhing within the circle, but it does not give the impression that it is losing strength. I look at Eloise waiting for an explanation, but she merely repeats her words:
“In God’s name, I command you to leave. In the name of St. Michael, I order you to leave. In the name of God, I command you to leave this place. In the name of God, I expel you, evil spirit.”
“It doesn’t work, Eloise.” I scream at her to make me be heard over the wind, which hoots stronger and stronger.
“He’s not as weak as I expected,” she replies.
“Great. Now we have an angry spirit inside a circle. What are we supposed to do with him?”
Eloise shakes her head in denial and looks at Dunning. This one nods and directs a smile to us:
“Now he is in your hands,” he says before he plucks the amulet from his neck and slides his right foot over the salt circle, breaking the protection. “Finish off this son of a bitch.”
XIII
I’m not able to react on time, but I don’t know what I could do either. The dark being seems to spread and becomes a black snake that is thrown against Dunning. When it reaches his face, it divides into three smaller serpents, which are introduced through his eyes and his mouth while he shouts. He falls to the ground, convulsing and oozing foam through the mouth. My first impulse is to run to him to help him, but Eloise has pounced on me and holds me by the arms. It’s amazing the strength she has despite being so thin. I twist around and try to get free, but I only get that she thrusts her nails in my arms to make me react.
“Let me go.” I beg. “We have to help him.”
“We can’t touch him, it can be dangerous. Hold on.”
Dunning’s convulsions are losing intensity. Little by little his body calms down, lying on his back, motionless as a beached whale. His eyes are open and fixed, looking at nothing. At least his chest goes up and down with effort, so he’s not dead. An eternity later, he seems to react. He sits up with effort and stands up. When he looks at us, I notice something strange about his little badger eyes. That mocking and pimping look that I was already beginning to get used to has disappeared. Instead, there is only hatred, a hatred so intense that it almost hurts.
“What have you done to me, whore?” His voice has changed, too. There is a hoarse, deep echo, like the sound of something crawling on stones.
“Now you are trapped in a mortal body,” answered Eloise, standing up straight again to show him that she is not afraid of him. “You can’t hurt anymore.”
The being starts to laugh. At first, it is a faint laughter, between teeth, as if trying to contain it, but, little by little, is gaining in intensity. It bends back and forth, clutching the belly. Each time it bends more and more, until, in one of the laughter, it is folded backward, at an angle higher than ninety degrees. No human being could bend like that and stay alive. The being that occupies Dunning’s body continues to bend backward but turns to us to contemplate our faces of fear. His posture makes me feel sick, uncomfortable, almost as if I could feel the pain in my own back. His face, that huge, macabre smile, freezes the blood in my veins. However, I don’t run away. My concern for Dunning is greater than my fear. We can’t let him keep doing those things with his body. When we manage to get that being out of his inside, he has to be able to continue using it.
“You’re a stupid, witch. Now I don’t need anyone to do the work for me. I can kill without help. That’s what you’ve achieved.”
“Now you are mortal, and you can be harmed.” Eloise does not faze and continues to defy him with a smile of superiority.
“And what are you going to do? Kill me?” The being stands up, recovering his normal posture. “I’m inside your friend’s body.”
“If necessary, I will.”
Eloise puts her hand in her purse and pulls out a gun. I recognize it: It’s Dunning’s gun. Before I can ask her why she has it, the being is thrown at us. At one stroke, he throws Eloise back. She falls and rolls several times on the floor, but she does not drop the gun. She sits up with difficulty and, even though her hands are shaking, she manages to lift the gun and aim at the being. This one seems to hesitate a couple of seconds, before running out of the esplanade. I’m paralyzed like an asshole, thinking it’s amazing how fast it runs carrying the fat and old body of Dunning.
“Eric, dammit.” I hear Eloise screaming. “Follow him.”
Instead of listening to her, I run to her to help her get up. When she tries to stand up, her gesture twitches and she let’s go a shrill groan of grief.
“No, I can’t... I think I broke my leg.”
As soon as I help her sit down again, she puts the gun in my hands. I’m staring at the gun with a silly face, like if I didn’t know what it is. She snorts and pushes me on one leg from the ground to force me to react.
“Go after him. We don’t know what he can do. You have to stop him.”
I run into the woods, with the gun in my hand. My legs tremble so much that I think I will stumble at any time and, even though I have just vomited, I feel I would love to do it again. I’m trying not to think about how I’m going to stop Tekarihoga without hurting Dunning. If I start thinking about it, I’ll be paralyzed and that’s something I can’t afford. Although I have not been the one who has allowed that being to become corporeal, I feel that we are responsible, and I do not want to carry more deaths in my conscience. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to stop him.
The noise of an engine makes my fear snap. I didn’t expect him to know how to drive, but I guess he’s able to use Dunning’s skills. I run with all my strength, but I can only see how the back of his car comes out of the forest and drives down the road, heading to Swanton. Memories crowd in my mind. The story repeats itself, again he escapes me. The difference is that, the previous time, I was chasing my father, who just wanted to go home and forget the nightmare once his mission was over. What escapes me now is a vengeful and angry spirit ready to set up a slaughter.
I know it’s stupid, but I start running down the road, even though the car’s already gone out of my sight. I only remember the Impala, parked in front of Eloise’s house since the day Anne’s father gave it to me. Why the hell didn’t I bring it?
I hear an engine coming up behind me. I stop dead, I stand in the middle of the road and start waving my hands like a madman for it to stop. I need a ride to Swanton. Before it stops, a wide smile breaks through my face. It looks like my luck is starting to change. It’s Jim’s van. I run to the copilot’s door and, without asking permission, I open it and sit inside.
“Eric, dude.” He greets me with a wide smile. “Why are you abandoned here? Did your bike run out of gas?”
“Listen. It’s very important.” I stop him before he can go on with his jokes. “You have to take me to Swanton at full speed. Sheriff Dunning has gone crazy and I have to stop him.”
“Stop the Sheriff? Did you hit your head?”
“Drive, damn!” I scream out of control. “I’ll explain it to you on the way.”
It seems that my outburst of temper has impressed him because he puts the car in motion without saying a single word. It’s the positive part of people who look soft and polite. When you drop a scream, everyone reacts. That gives me time to try to sort my thoughts and invent something credible to tell Jim.
“Sorry for yelling at you, but this is important.” I look at the car’
s panel and I frown my brow. “Can’t you go any faster?”
Jim presses the accelerator without protesting and puts the van at almost eighty miles per hour. I decide not to keep pushing him. I doubt that his old truck can give more.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? What’s this about you having to stop Dunning?”
“Yes, I was with him in the woods... I’m helping him with the Patterson child case, the one who drowned.” I speak slowly, trying to string together a story coherent enough for Jim to believe me and stop asking. “I don’t know if it was because of the stress of the last few days, but, all of a sudden, he started screaming and said he was going to the village to kill someone. He’s taken his car and gone.”
“Really? It can’t be.” Jim separates the look from the road and sticks it in my face, suspicious. “It’s the sheriff. He can’t have said that he wants to kill someone. You must have misunderstood.”
“It may be, but he was very angry. I want to find him and calm him down and make sure he’s not going to hurt anyone.”
The first houses of Swanton are already visible at the distance. As we go between them to head to the bridge that crosses the river, I saw Dunning’s car ahead of us. I’m starting to jump in the seat, while I’m pointing it out to Jim.
“There it is, there it is. Don’t lose it.”
“Easy, damn it. Do you think you’re in a fucking movie?”
Despite his protests, Jim crosses the city as an exhalation, forgetting to respect traffic lights or zebra steps. I feel more relaxed having Dunning’s car within sight. I have no idea what this being is intended to do and I was afraid I would have to look for it all over the town to end up coming too late again.
We crossed the bridge and continued by Merchants Row. Dunning’s car continues straight on Grand Avenue. It is one of the busiest streets of Swanton and I am afraid that Jim can lose it, but he manages to overtake all the cars that Dunning tries to bring between us without much problem. As we go along Grand Avenue and leaving behind the library, the City Hall and the gas station, I begin to wonder where he goes. If you follow that road, you can only have two destinations. The first would be St. Albans, abandoning the town that he hates and from which he intends to revenge. The second would be the motel where my family is staying.
At the very moment I think that and my blood turns into something cold and thick that seems to stop, we get to the intersection with Platt Street. The traffic light is red, but Dunning ignores it and gets mad in the traffic, causing the drivers’ angry beeps. Jim fully presses the brake pedal, provoking the wheels to screech on the gravel. I hit the dashboard furiously. I’m not afraid to lose him anymore. I’m sure I know where he’s headed, but that knowledge is much worse.
“Start. We have to follow him.”
“I can’t get through those cars, man. Calm down.”
I don’t even answer him. The motel is very close, so I open the door, I throw myself out and start running with all my strength. When I’ve been running for like a minute, I realize I’ve mistaken my calculations. I see the motel in the distance, but I still have a couple of minutes to arrive even though I run so fast that I get the impression that my feet do not touch the ground.
I hear a horn by my side and I turn while I keep running. It’s Jim, who has managed to pass the intersection and has placed the truck beside me. I think that, as he stops, I get back in and we start again, I would have arrived already.
“What are you doing?” Jim yells at me. “Get in.”
“No, go on to the motel. See you there.”
Jim accelerates and overtakes me, but I’m already seeing the motel gardens. I enter into the parking lot right behind his truck. My fears are confirmed. Dunning’s car is there, crossed in the middle of the parking lot, in front of the room where my family is staying. The door to the room is ajar. I stop dead and look at it like if it was a horrible monster. I fear that I have arrived too late again and that when I enter there, I will only find blood and death.
I notice that Jim has placed himself beside me and that gives me the strength to move again. We go together to the door and this one opens, letting us see Brad, who comes out with eyes full of tears and the mouth opened in a grimace of terror. Right behind him is Dunning. He only grabs him with one arm because the other is busy holding a huge kitchen knife at the height of my nephew’s neck. As soon as he sees me, he recognizes me and directs me a smile of satisfaction.
“How soon have you found me! Now we can play my favorite game.” His smile is widening even more, too much for a human mouth. From the right corner of his mouth, a thick blackish liquid emerges that reminds me of the mud at the lake’s shore. “Do you want to save this kid? Give me the life of three other children.”
XIV
At first, I don’t know what to answer. I can’t believe he still wants to play that. He hasn’t tried to escape, nor kill people with his own hands. He’s still obsessed with that damn game. I remember Eloise’s words about how the spirits are perverted, how they are forgetting who they were and why they were trapped here, how they become lost souls with no other purpose than hatred.
Some childish laughter gets me out of my thoughts. On the other side of the parking lot, under the flag that flutters languidly with the breeze, there is a small playground with a basketball basket. In it, there are three girls playing jumping rope. They must be sisters, because, although they have different ages, the three wear the same shorts and the same shirt, but in different colors. Besides, all three wear the same hairstyle: a long ponytail that floats in the wind every time they jump. A woman in her forties is sitting a few steps away, reading a book. She’s so absorbed in her reading that she hasn’t noticed anything. I feel like yelling at her to get her kids in the motel before he sees them, but this one follows my gaze. His smile expands as he slides a long tongue blackened through his lips as if his mouth watered with the mere presence of those possible victims.
“All right, kid. Those girls will serve me.”
“I’m not going to kill anyone for you.” I scream as I pull the pistol out of the waistband of my pants and point it at him. “The game is over. Get out of Dunning’s body and go back to hell.”
“I’ve never been in hell, asshole. Maybe your nephew can guide me.”
As he speaks, he slides the knife’s blade through Brad’s neck, causing the first drops of blood to emerge. He starts screaming like a pig in full slaughter and his squeals are immediately chanted by my mother and sister, who have left the motel room and are a couple of steps behind Brad and Dunning.
“Mom, Lissie, come here.” I tell them by thinking that I don’t want them to be in my firing line if I finally have to shoot. “Now!”
My scream makes them move and they go around Dunning and Brad to reach my side. My mother puts a hand on my shoulder and, when I look askance at her, she nods, encouraging me.
“Shoot that thing. Kill it!”
“I cannot.” I whisper, trying to make the being not hear us. “I could hit Brad.”
“You’re not going to shoot, you moron.” The spirit intervenes. “You haven’t had the guts in your fucking life.”
The being throws his head back until he almost touches the crown of his head with his back while laughing out loud. Above the sound of his laughter, I hear Dunning’s neck vertebrae snapping. I have to do something before I leave the sheriff’s body useless, but to shoot him is ruled out. Even if I could hit him without hurting Brad, I don’t think Dunning could still be alive with a shot between his eyebrows. I feel that my legs tremble and, although I try to avoid it, the tremor extends to my hands.
“You see how you can’t?” The being mocks again. “You’re just a coward, a nutcase. You’re not even capable of saving your nephew.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that kid,” I say, trying to print confidence in my voice. I’m not playing with you. If you want to play, you’ll have to find someone who cares about your victim.”
“You l
ie.”
“Look in my mind, if you can. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“No, you look.” says Tekarihoga, dragging the words.
A million of forgotten memories invade my mind, leaving me dizzy and breathless. The first time I saw Brad, the first time he smiled at me, the time he took his first steps precisely towards me, the time I taught him to play ball, those evenings in which I was helping him learn to read, the tales I read to him at night, the times I accompanied him to trick-or-treating on Halloween, the Christmas mornings unwrapping together the gifts... That the kid has grown, and we no longer get along does not erase all of that. I feel the tears coming in a flood in my eyes, but I try to disguise it.
“Are you going to play now?”
I don’t know what to answer or how to react. All the alternatives seem so horrible to me that I am unable to choose. I can’t let him kill Brad, I can’t kill Dunning, I can’t give in and play his macabre game. I’m still gasping as if my brain had been emptied when my mother took my gun and pushed me to the side. She aims at the being, holding the pistol firmly while keeping her feet apart and her back upright. She no longer seems the quiet, sweet woman who prepares breakfasts at home. Her hair moves to the wind, her eyes shine with an infinite rage, her hands do not tremble. The being stops smiling and shakes his head in denial.
