THE SECOND SIGHT
Chapter 62
THE LEGION REIGNS
The dog’s head came up, but was stopped short by the restraining muscles of the man, but again Bruno shook his head savagely and pulled in maddened fury.
The man screamed again, and this time his clenched fists beat helplessly against the huge head of the dog, his continuous wail a terrible sound that tortured my eardrums.
BOAT
(groa-ning)
Oh, God!
What was probably the whole of the man’s stomach and entrails were clutched in the dog’s mouth. I was dimly aware that Nicole was screaming behind me, and I was aware that the dark liquid spreading in the dim light was the man’s blood.
The man just couldn’t stop screaming.
Strangely, in that moment of confusion I wanted him to stop screaming more than I wanted to deal with the evil demons.
His screams were that bad, and they made me feel crushingly inadequate.
BOAT
(screaming)
You vile thing!
And then the dog whirled round and saw me for the first time.
I stared into its baleful eyes, and then I saw a flic-ker of surprise, or fear, and then it charged me.
BOAT
(furiously, powerfully)
Stay still!
It je-rked suddenly to a stop, as if it had ran into an invisible wall. Its eyes swept from side to side, desperately seeking an escape route.
And then it whimpered, and began to cower.
BOAT
(wrathfully)
There’s nowhere to flee to, you vile piece of sh*t!
As it cowered I began to move toward it.
NICOLE
(screaming, horrified)
Yaw, be careful!
She moved forward and suddenly clutched my upper arm. I glanced at her, my concentration broken.
That split second was all that the Legion needed. With a growl it bounded forward, away from me, straight at the pastor and his wife.
Screaming, the two of them fell down on the bed. The body of the dog crashed into the tall French windows behind them, shattering them, and then it was out unto a small terrace.
I shook myself free of Nicole and bounded after it.
I was aware that I was running ba-refoot over broken gla-ss, but I felt no cuts. The dog vaulted over the railing and fell off.
I followed, and leapt off the railing.
The dog’s head seemed to twist round entirely and glared up at me. The anger was the adrenaline that drove me forward.
Gone was the fear. The only thing I wanted to do was to get hold of it and tear it to pieces.
We fell two floors unto the soft green gra-ss below. The dog whirled at me, growling, and saw the look on my face. It took frantic steps back, its growls reduced to whimpering again. I was still crouching, and my right hand came up, pointing at it.
BOAT
(wrathfully)
You vile sh*t! This night you shall know the power of the Lord.
Basically that was all I got out.
Suddenly Bruno’s ne-ck began to elongate. It was as if a giant had taken hold of his head and was pulling it off.
I knew I had to act, to do something, but I was once again paralyzed by the sheer evil of what I was seeing. The dog’s ne-ck became longer and narrower as its head was forcibly pulled outward.
BOAT
(horrified)
Oh, God!
And then the huge head was torn off the dog’s body. It fell on the gra-ss, rolled a few feet, and came to a stop, tongue still beating rapidly in its delayed agony throes.
The body of the dog fell, blood pumping out of its ne-ck, its legs je-rking spasmodically, its tail beating a rapid tattoo on the gra-ss.
There was a flap of wings above me, and I looked up to see a huge crow … the big ugly white crow … pa-ssing just over my head.
And then, thrown vividly against the wall, I saw that shadow – the same three legged, three-fingered horned piece of garbage – and it was moving swiftly.
The shadow of the crow was also thrown against the wall, and the Shadow-Thing leapt. It merged with the crow, and with another mighty thr-ust of its wings it swung savagely away, gaining height in a kind of diagonal flight.
And I watched it go.
I saw its crimson eyes staring down balefully at me as it rose higher and higher into the night sky.
I could have commanded it down. I could have transported my soul out of my body and gone after it. I could have done a dozen things right.
Instead my limp body stayed on the gra-ss, and my stomach lurched as I vomited all over the green ma-ss and on my own right foot.
There was no strength left in me. All the energy had left my body, and I fell down limply.
My body began to shake hard. My breath was short, and more sweat poured off me.
My stomach lurched again, and I vomited some more.
I tried to push it away, but I couldn’t.
Yes, I had seen those eyes, and beheld what that thing was capable of doing. My confidence suddenly deserted me, and I had very serious doubts now about my ability to stand another encounter with that demon.
I didn’t know how long I stayed crouched down in the gra-ss whilst the screams of the gutted man washed down to me throu-ghthe broken window.
The nightmarish stupor only left me when I heard the sirens.
Medical staff … and cops!
I got to my feet instantly.
I dragged Bruno across the gra-ss to the edge of the trees, and came back for his head. By the time I got to the edge of the trees again the ambulance had rolled into the yard and white-clothed medical guys were getting out their gear.
When I returned to the house I saw Bonner and Paul Anderson Junior walking toward me.
The young Paul was holding a shovel.
PAUL ANDERSON
(gravely)
Thought you might need this.
Bonner said gravely, indicating the shovel with a slight thr-ust of his head. The harsh lines of his face revealed the de-eper sorrow he was feeling.
Also read – The Second Sight – Episode 58
BOAT
(sadly)
Who’s that man? How’s he doing? Will he pull throu-gh?
I asked as I took the shovel from the trembling hands of the young man
CHARLES BONNER
(quietly)
His name was Bruce Andoh. He was one of our pastors. He was stationed at Apremdo. We recalled him for re-posting because he ran into some headaches with the local congregation. He reported last night, and we were going to meet him this morning, you know, point out a few of his shortcomings and stuff like that before posting him to another a-ssembly.
I shuddered and exhaled, staring at him with my face all screwed up.
BOAT
(hollowly)
Was?
CHARLES BONNER
(painfully)
He bled to death. Do what you got to do, Yaw. The cops’ll be here pretty soon.
For a moment I stared at him, my gaze questioning.
CHARLES BONNER
The cop – if it is that Chief Inspector Frost – might want to know how the dog died. Just bury Bruno, and we’ll tell him you shot him with Andoh’s gun. I figured that a blast in the ne-ck from a double-barreled gun might just explain the decapitated head of the dog.
I stared at him dumbly.
He had not even seen Bruno’s body, but he knew how the dog had died.
Of course.
He was a Seer.
WHITE LIES
BOAT
(quietly)
You saw what happened.
CHARLES BONNER
(nodding his grey head)
I saw. I just think it might be a little awkward explaining what really happened to the dog to Frost. He’s a pagan who believes in evolution. God doesn’t figure in his scheme of affairs.
BOAT
I thought the cops here were selected by some special kind of council, and that they were all Christians. Explains why Portville has one of the lowest crime rates ever.
CHARLES BONNER
Frost’s good at what he does. He was transferred here after he lost his wife. A demented man he sent to jail was released on parole and the first thing he did was follow Frost’s missus to a supermarket and strangle her. The murdering devil claimed in court later that he was a self-proclaimed Messiah of God sent out to clean the world of filth, but actually he was a mad man throu-ghand throu-gh. We thought having Frost here would give us the opportunity of turning him toward God, but the loss of his wife affected him too much, and now he believes all Christians are criminals un-derneath. Would’ve been unfair to request that he be transferred out of Portville again after fruitlessly trying to convert him for years. We still have hopes that one day he would turn out a true believer. Remember to handle the shotgun when you get it. You have to get your fingerprints on it.
I stared at him a moment longer, and then I nodded with un-derstanding.
I turned and left them.
The hole I dug was de-eper, and I pushed Bruno into it gently. I had to lean forward to drop the head, and then I covered it up, stomping all over it to give it a good solid look.
Finally I stood back and surveyed my handiwork, nodded with satisfaction, and then headed back toward the house.
From far away I heard the sirens again, and I wondered if Chief Inspector Frost was on his way to the grounds.
It was time to get my fingerprints on the shotgun.
Police Chief Inspector Jack Frost turned out to be a tall narrow man who chain-smoked.
Even at dawn he was impeccably dressed in a dark suit, clean shirt, grey tie and a dark Stetson. His long narrow face was completely cold, and his dark eyes were sharp, at times appearing to be staring straight into one’s soul.
There were huge bags un-derneath his eyes, and his complexion had the dark glint of one who spent a lot of hours outdoors. He didn’t take off his hat, but I saw that he was graying at the temples. I put him in his late fifties.
Chief Inspector Jack Frost was not only cold and apparently competent, but also a very ha-rd man indeed.
His a-ssistant was Sergeant Kweku Abbiw.
He was the complete opposite of Frost. Short, fat, pot-bellied and wearing a crumpled dark trousers and a green cardigan over yellow shirt which poked out unfashionably un-derneath his cardigan simply because the cardigan was inches too small for his obese frame.
He had a double chin, was bespectacled – he had one of those gla-sses which had round thick lenses which made the eyes appear recessed and foxy – and had the annoying habit of lic-king his li-ps rapidly and poking the tip of his tongue throu-ghhis li-ps as he listened or thought of something.
I was in the shower when Junior came and told me they had arrived and were waiting in the living-room. I dressed quickly and stepped out.
Bonner had organized a quick meeting where we had all agreed on what to say, and when I entered the living-room I sought out the old man. He was sitting in a manual wheel-chair by the tall French windows, and he gave me a little nod as the cops moved toward me.
I could feel the fear in that room.
Pastor Anderson and his wife were sitting in a wide sofa, and Nicole perched on the arm of the seat and was holding unto her mother’s hand. She had pulled on a white bathing robe over her negligee, and she cut a spectacular figure even at that time of day.
The servants were huddled close together, still shaking.
TBc…