The Banshee (11 page)

Another bending willow tree caught his attention, diverting his thoughts. The beast neared the horses. He took the revolver from its holster and fired two shots into the air.

“Goddamn it, behind you…behind you!” he screamed.

“What the hell is he shooting at?” Murphy stood curiously. The horses began to whinny and stomp their hoofs into the soft earth, tugging wildly at the tied reins. They tried desperately to free themselves from the rope.

“Something's spooking the horses.” Murphy ran to them.

“The gun fire perhaps?” Father Ahern suggested hopefully.

The beast stood by the terrified horses. Without any effort, it lifted one off the ground as it kicked and neighed wildly until the beast tossed it like an apple against a tree. The sound of its back snapping was horrendous. The Chief, Carl, and Father Ahern now stood face to face with Satan's own.

David could only watch from his perch as the slaughter unfolded. Murphy fired his revolver at the scaly creature as it approached Carl standing frozen in fear. It quickly engulfed him in its powerful, deformed arms before Carl could fire a shot.

David was in shock, his eyes welled, and his stomach turned and thumped against his esophagus, retching from the frustration of not being able to warn them in time.

His mind swam in confusion and nausea watching the beast's talons slashed his Uncle's inert body. It tossed him aside and eyed the Chief. Murphy turned to his rifle, firing until it emptied, then he frantically began to reload the revolver.

“For Chrissake, Father, use your gun! Shoot!” Murphy cried out as the animal made its way steadily toward him, blood, and flesh clinging to its talons outstretched to take hold of Murphy.

Father Ahern fell to his knees clutching tightly the crucifix swinging from his neck; he prayed loudly. His eyes pressed shut, awaiting the terrible execution he knew was at hand.

Murphy threw the rifle at the beast. It bounced off it like a gnat against an elephant. He stepped back, realizing the hopelessness of the situation. The witch had returned and taken his wife and now it was his turn, all in the name of evil vengeance. He held out his revolver, a last attempt to thwart Isabel from securing her vengeance on him and take his soul.

Murphy called out to the horrified Father Ahern, kneeling with hands clasped together, head bowed, eyes tightly closed, reciting prayer. “Father, ask Jesus for forgiveness. I have no other recourse.”

Murphy then made the sign of the cross, placed the barrel of the revolver against the roof of his mouth, and then pulled the trigger.

* * * *

David slid off his perch and resumed the climb to the top as the beast casually neared the priest. He climbed, pulled, pushed, and crawled his way along the cliff's fragile face as best he could. Finally reaching the grass-covered earth of the crest, he knelt behind a large rock and peered at the scene below. To his horror, the animal gazed up the slope at him.

“Oh no, oh no.” The perspiration flowed, his heart banged and his eyes were nearly popping from their sockets. Fear had taken hold of his being as he watched the animal walk effortlessly over the rock formation. It climbed, never faltering, as agile as a mountain goat. Its eyes remained aimed at him with every step.

David pumped his legs as fast as they would carry him along the cliff edge overlooking the carnage and the beast below. His feet led the way, to where he did not know as long as they were moving. He trampled bushes, ran into trees and rocks, tripped over fallen logs, and stumbled into a ravine. Righting himself, he continued putting distance between him and the beast.

He fell again, into a gully filled with fallen leaves and covered with a thick thorny brush. His foot tangled in the thicket, a pain shot through his ankle. He listened for his pursuer as he twisted the foot free but there was no sound other than his short quick breaths.

David wondered if maybe he had lost his pursuer. The sun was closing in on the horizon and he had to find the road back to town. He stood, feeling the warm air of the oncoming summer evening settling on the heights; then he heard branches snapping from behind. David ran.

Shortly, the forest broke away and the terrain became solid rock with a steady downward pitch. David did not slow, continuing his pace until he tumbled, landing upon a paved surface. He lay exhausted and weak until realizing he had fallen on Route Eight; the lights of Wexford shone not far off.

He listened but did not hear the beast. David did not know where it was and was not going to wait for it. Once again, he ran and continued until reaching the stairs of the town hall where he found the police office lights on. Hopefully, Keith was still there.

David rested at the base of the stairs, holding the railing as his lungs filled. They felt as though they might burst at any moment, as an over-inflated balloon, then emptied only to refill quickly.

The thumping within his chest held a steady beat, like a runaway train careening along a stretch of track. He rested on the bottom stair, allowing normalcy to return to his overtaxed system. His arms and legs scratched and torn from his flight through the forest–his clothing had not fared any better.

His ears strained to hear. The pounding of blood through his arteries echoed through his brain. As it leveled off, he noticed there was no sound at all, no automobiles, night insects, or laughter from Kelly's around the corner; nothing. He called up the bit of extra strength he had left in his legs and climbed the stairs.

At the entrance to the office, David cautiously pushed open the swinging door that separated the waiting vestibule and office. It was quiet and reminded him of Mrs. Toomey's house. Across the room, from the Chief's opened office door, a faint light from a desk lamp illuminated the office. David approached while constantly moving his eyes in all directions. He once again sensed a strange surge of suspense, that ‘something is wrong' sensation.

At the doorway, he found the telephone smashed and strewn across the floor. Keith lay across the desk on his back, arms outstretched, crucifixion style. A silver blade penetrated his chest, impaling him to the wooden desktop. His head cocked toward the door with his eyes open and dull as if watching David approach. He reached and closed them.

A chill went up his spine, realizing he was alone against the witch and her demon. The only people who had known about the return of Isabel were gone, except for him. He now wished they had enlisted the help of the State Police or at least told someone, anyone. Leaving Wexford was the only option but Nancy, along with as many others as possible had to be warned of the beast.

David jumped in Keith's patrol car, turned the key, and left for Kelly's.

The car went slowly along the quiet street. The only sound came from the tires rolling over the paved surface. David steered into the middle of the street allowing a better view of all sides.

The usual level of voices and laughter was missing from Kelly's as was the pinball machine, television, and pool table. The business was like a graveyard except for the flashing Bud Light neon sign, the only source of light over the bar.

David left the car in the middle of the street and went carefully to the door of Kelly's. Pushing it open, his mind tried to register the vision that greeted him. Bodies littered the area; tables and chairs and an overturned pool table covered the floor.

Blood mixed with alcohol and beer painted walls and ceiling. Alongside the smashed telephone booth lay a decapitated body wearing a blood-soaked apron with a large green shamrock in its center.

David gagged and backed out, vomiting before reaching the patrol car. His head swam in nausea. He could not tell if Nancy was among the dead but felt compelled to find her, take her away from this madness. The tires poured smoke as he pushed the accelerator to the floor and prayed she would be home.

Insects seeking warmth steadily circled the light illuminating Nancy's front porch. Occasionally one would defy the heat and land atop the bulb, quickly falling to the bottom of the fixture, dead among many others; instantly baked. The light also illuminated the front yard down to the sidewalk and curb where David sat in the patrol car.

He studied the house and the darkened yards on both sides. It was too quiet, the other homes along the small street were dark, vehicles sat in driveways, and the evening breeze stopped rustling through the treetops. Except for the zapping bugs burning on the light, the street seemed dead.

David walked to the front door, alert for any surprise movement. He found the door open a few inches and pushed it open further, allowing the porch light to enter before him. Its rays fell upon the stairway across from the door and dimly brightened the adjacent living room.

His eyes barley made out the image of Nancy's photograph upon the mantel. The shape was like a shadow in a frame but her eyes glowed from the reflecting porch light.

“Where the hell are you?” he whispered at the photograph.

“I'm here,” she answered from behind, startling him. He fell to the sofa then rebounded quickly to his feet, staring wide-eyed at Nancy in the room's entrance. She was nude.

“What the…what are you doing?” His heart raced from fear and anxiety. Her sudden appearance was more than his speech and thought patterns could handle. They just would not work together.

“Why are you naked? Everyone at Kelly's, is dead, a beast is…”

“Come, come, David,” she replied with a sensuous grin that brought a stir from deep within. “Are you that confused you can't think straight, or are you really that naïve?”

He circled back to the front door, near the stairway. “You're with those Satan worshippers, that's how you knew Finley was in jail, you were at the farm when he was caught.”

“Give that man a prize. You are correct, sir. What an amazing wit you are,” she teased him sarcastically, her voice suggesting she knew a secret and he did not.

She stood in the middle of the living room where the porch light displayed her beauty in all its glory. Her eyes were like small pools of oil, shiny and deep above a sensuous mouth with lips moist and open. The body moved like a cat, sleek, shapely, firm and inviting.

She knew David was resisting but his will was waning. His mind opened, becoming tranquil, his emotions desirous of her. She felt his desire. Lifting her breasts, she offered them, beckoning him to taste their dark, erect nipples.

He drifted close to total surrender. Nancy's eyes reached into his swirling mind and tugged playfully at his manhood, pulled at his sexuality to yield, take her. He felt the rise of an erection, his hands moved toward her breast, his eyes unable to leave the swirling pool of blackness of her eyes luring him to predestined penance. She was confident and content.

Another insect fried against the porch light. The split second flash twirled David's mind from the near-fatal trance. He shook his head, removing remnants of the spell, assuring himself nothing happened in the time spent within her hold.

“You killed the Chief's wife?” he asked angrily.

“She was a necessary offering. I was not aware she tried to warn you of your fate,” Nancy grinned.

David now understood why Nancy was upset when he told her of his dream. She did not know Colleen was trying to alert him of the danger about to descend on Wexford.

“You are a descendant of this town and therefore you must feel the wrath of Isabel's vengeance,” she added.

“My Uncle, Chief Murphy, Father Ahern…God knows who else is dead because you and your pals want revenge? Everyone with the same blood as those who executed her three-hundred years ago has to die? Everyone born since that time has to join you, is that it?”

“Once again I have to admire your intelligence. You have certainly hit the nail on the head, but of course, you are seeing just a portion of the picture. There are many others since this morning,” Nancy said moving seductively to divert David's attention. “The answer is yes, as you stated, all those at the bar including Kelly. And we can add those at the lumber yard, the gas station, the flower shop, Eric and Phyllis Porter, everyone at the McCain farm, your precious big mouth Mrs. Toomey. Oh the list grows by the hour, David.” Nancy sighed, sounding like a proud schoolgirl reciting homework.

“How many more will die, when will it stop?”David focused on her knees, keeping his eyes off hers.

“More must die,” answered another voice from atop the stairs. He turned and saw Nancy's mother on the top step. What little light filtered up the stairway glittering off the diamond and ruby encrusted pentacle around her neck. The darkness at the top of the stairs blurred her form but he could see well enough to know she was also naked.

“Jesus Christ, do you have any more relatives in the wholesale slaughter business?” David asked.

“I told you my father was a Prince,” Nancy laughed. The house filled with the laughter of thousands of voices, reverberating and multiplying as if they stood within a deep cave. David covered his ears and blocked out the hideous sound. Nancy lifted her hand and the deafening clatter ceased.

The mother took a few steps down the stairway. “You ask many questions. I am sure you have many more. Since you have been attentive to my daughter, I will grant you the answers you seek before you are destroyed.”

Perspiration dripped from his forehead. His mind raced with questions and thoughts of what was going on, everything he had heard, learned and sensed since arriving in this frightening place. It was a nightmare pulled from his dreams and made reality.

“Father Ahern told us your husband died at the hands of those worshippers the night you discovered them. I have a feeling you didn't tell him the whole story.”

Betty Flanagan gazed at David with the same zombie-like features Finley and Nancy wore. “When I saw my husband collapse I screamed and gave away my location. They found me and brought me to the circle, to kneel before the Master. I looked into his eyes and never felt such power…I was spellbound and gave myself to him, conceiving his daughter.”

“Your one and only,” David said, sarcastically nodding to Nancy.

“A beautiful daughter to fulfill the destiny of the damned who reside in Wexford, completing Isabel's vow of vengeance,” Betty said.

“You didn't realize it,” Nancy spoke, continuing to approach nonchalantly, “when you found Colleen's body, you found Isabel. Her spirit dwells within the body of Colleen. As long as the body lies in the grave, Isabel can enter this world unscathed to seek victims.”

David's mind tried to digest the information. He recalled Mrs. Toomey's advice; burn the body in the grave in order to disable Isabel from leaving hell.

“What about the beast?” he asked.

“At our disposal,” Mom said.

“If Isabel goes back to hell the beast goes with her?”

“You were right, Nancy,” Betty spoke to her daughter, “he is smarter than he appears.”

Nancy began to approach him. “What does it matter where the familiar is or ends up? You will be long gone, but not forgotten, David.”

“Stop right there,” he shouted, holding out his hand like a traffic cop.

“Or what, David, what will you do?” asked the mother, taking a few steps downward. “You are the son of a man born in Wexford and carry his blood. You are part of Isabel's agenda. Make it easy on yourself, David. Do not resist; obey and submit to your fate.”

He felt the sudden warmth in the air. A humid dampness filled the interior of the house like a pizza oven opened. At the top of the stairway, he heard a low, thick grunt. Two eyes like burning matches glared at him. The beast moved one of its cloven hooves onto the first step. The wooden tread moaned under the weight.

David did not experience the curiosity effect that usually made him second-guess his decision. He swiftly did not hesitate like he did at Mrs. Toomey's house. He ran as fast as he could from Nancy's, jumping from the front porch onto the lawn.

Shadowy forms emerged from all sides of the street; neighbors and friends who neared with the same wasted expression and venomous smile on their faces as the others, all intent on David's destruction.

He ran to the patrol car, pushing aside an older man who fell backwards, striking his head on the concrete sidewalk with an awful thud. He remained down and silent, a dark puddle forming from under his skull. David did not care as he turned the ignition key. There was no response.

“Goddamn it, start you bastard,” he shouted at the dashboard, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

The mob neared with a goat-headed figure leading. Arms reached in through the window, grabbing at his shoulder and steering wheel. Nancy and her mother stood on the porch watching the mob surround the car. Behind the daughter of Satan appeared the beast, looking intently at David. It seemed to smile, knowing it would soon tear him to shreds.

He turned the key while tearing away hands from his body. The motor roared to life. David dropped the shift lever down and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The vehicle raced forward, carrying with it a worshipper hanging on to the door. The goat-headed man clung by his fingertips to the hood.

The car increased speed away from the house and sped toward a telephone pole. Seconds from collision, David swung the wheel sending the car alongside the pole and scraping the man off the door with a sickening sound, like a bug splattering against the windshield.

David turned the wheel left and right as the car accelerated again, trying to free the man still on the hood. The goat head fell off from his shoulders revealing Art Finley. He laughed. “Stop, David…you have lost.”

“You are what I am going to lose,” David shouted, driving towards a picket fence. He angrily remembered what the beast had done to his Uncle and pressed hard on the brake; the tires smoked and screeched.

Finley flew forward from the abruptly stopped vehicle. His body burst through the fence. The cars headlights showed several wooden pickets impaled into his body and the dullness in Finley's dead eyes.

“Go kiss your master's ass.” David brought the car toward the highway.

In the rear view mirror, the naked crowd danced in front of the porch where Nancy stood. He watched the distance grow between them until he drove around the corner and lost sight of her. Reaching Route Eight, the car sped toward Plymouth.