The Banshee (12 page)

The motor hummed steadily, moving the patrol car along the pavement and bringing the cool night air through the open window. The breeze eased the pain that ran rampart throughout David's body. Slowly his muscles began to relax, the tension eased and his shoulders sunk from the tension release. Rational thinking returned replacing the panic and fear he had at Nancy's.

He thought of his Uncle and the others murdered horribly for the sake of vengeance within a nightmare world that invaded Wexford. It seemed impossible but he had lived through it, witnessed the carnage, the beast, and the evil that sucked the human spirit out of the worshippers. How would he explain this to the police in Plymouth? They would not, or could not, believe such a story.

Nancy and her mother will claim I went nuts with a chainsaw and killed everyone. The rest of those Satan freaks will vouch for anything that comes out of Betty Flanagan's mouth. The cops will lock me up as an insane killer.
Up ahead, the Welcome to Plymouth sign was coming into view. He pulled onto the road's sandy shoulder and stared at the sign just a few feet away from the front bumper.

He felt a tugging sensation inside his body, a force commanding him to return to Wexford, go back and warn the others. Why did he have this desire to return? His conscience busily convinced him of an obligation to turn around and help those about to die.

David shook his head and tried to squeeze the thoughts out of his mind by pressing against both sides of his skull. It did not work. Voices called through his mind, like trapped miners in a deep hole, begging, pleading for his return.

“No, no, no!” he shouted, attempting to cease the voices from continuing, yet they did.

He wrapped both his arms around the steering wheel and rested his weary head on top of them. His body was drenched in perspiration against the cool night air. His body ached and his mind was a jumble of surreal visions, visions of the past twenty-four hours of hell on Earth. He questioned his feelings, wondering if they were genuine or induced by a spell. The lure to return was too great. He wanted to destroy Isabel's grave and end her reign of terror.

The road was quiet and empty, a blackness that punched through the forest and opened a shadowy hole into the next town. He accelerated, spinning the back tires in the soft sand. When they struck the roadway David pulled the wheel hard to the left, bringing the car into a one-eighty turn. Smoke billowed from spinning tires skimming over the asphalt, propelling the car back to Wexford. The car dashed along the empty streets heading straight for Whiting Field.

“The grave,” he said to no one in particular. “If I can get there then maybe…”

He neared the bleachers and noticed a band of worshippers by the town hall. They watched the car speed by, not slowing as it reached the field's entrance.

David tightly gripped the steering wheel, bracing for impact against the granite curb. A front tire immediately blew out, sending shards of rubber into the air.

He bounced about the front seat, holding onto the steering wheel as the car continued along the infield of the baseball diamond. He struggled to aim the vehicle in the direction of the Oak tree and the grave across the sediment-filled shallow section of river.

The damaged front wheel dug into the sod, leaving a furrow as it crossed the field. David kept the accelerator pressed to the floor while he bounced up and down, striking his head on the ceiling and interior light, his arms and legs repeatedly slamming into the steering wheel.

Finally the headlights picked out the ancient tree just as the front wheel sank deep into softer earth along the bank, causing the car to veer sharply to the left still under full power. The motor roared and careened the patrol car up and over the embankment.

The car became airborne, jumping the narrow width of the river and landing with a loud splash, sending a cascade of water in all directions. The car struck the silt and gravel sediment which sustained the vehicle's weight causing it to travel additional yardage. Then the flight came to a sudden and abrupt halt.

David remained gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles were white, blood seeped from scraped fingers and broken nails. He stared in disbelief at the bent hood. The only sound was the hissing radiator and motor still humming under the destroyed hood. One headlight illuminated the top of a birch still wobbling from the ground-shaking impact.

David pushed on the door until it opened with a thud. He stepped out, stumbling to the wet ground. A warm stream ran from his forehead onto his cheek from the cut on his head. Opening the trunk, he found a flare, flashlight and shovel from the emergency supplies the police department wisely placed there.

He flicked on the flashlight and scanned the embankment, seeking to recognize where he had landed. Soon the beam showed a mound of freshly -packed earth near the front of the car. Then he heard the animal.

It was close, coming directly for him from the line of trees just yards away. He turned off the light and held the shovel in a batter's position. It neared steadily, its snorting and labored breaths telling where it would break from the underbrush.

David jumped to the spot and delivered the first blow. The shovel missed its mark but caused the animal to stop. The flashlight beam flashed onto the priest atop a horse.

“David, it's me, Father Ahern.”

“You're alive, you're alive…” David ran to the horse. “I heard you scream, I thought you were dead…the worshippers…Nancy and her mother…everyone dead…”

“Bless you, David. I am sure you have quite a tale to tell but first, please help me off this fine animal.” Father Ahern must have read David's mind concerning the others and stated, “I'm the only one, David, I'm sorry.”

David looked disheartened. “I tried to warn you.”

“I'm afraid I have broken my arm in the tussle,” answered the priest, holding his arm.

Tearing off the remainder of his tee shirt, David made a makeshift sling around the Father's neck to support his injured arm. “That will have to do until we get out of here. What happened to you, Father?”

“I was certain the creature was about to destroy me so I knelt and prayed, expecting the death blow any second. I felt nothing. When I again looked, the beast left me to begin climbing after you. I jumped upon my friend here and rode like the wind. I did not know where I was and let the horse lead. I witnessed your flight across the field, quite impressive.”

David picked up the shovel and returned to the grave at the front of the car. “We must destroy this grave, Father.”

“What can I do?”

“Hold the flashlight. We have to be fast, we're going to have company.” David nodded back across the river toward the town.

The priest noticed lights entering the field across from Kelly's destroyed bar. David quickened his pace and soon the shovel sunk into something other than earth. Father Ahern aimed the flashlight beam on the spot.

The shovel broke through Colleen's decaying chest. David continued shoveling away as much earth as possible. The worshippers neared the Oak tree and their lights shined on David and the priest.

“There must be two dozen,” Father Ahern's voice was anxious as he watched their progress.

David swung the shovel up under the car, striking the fuel tank several times until he could smell fumes from escaping gasoline. He lit the flare and handed it to the bewildered priest.

“When I tell you, toss the flare into the gasoline,” he explained, pointing to the growing puddle under the car. He jumped in behind the steering wheel and once again urged the motor to carrying the heavy automobile.

“Just a few more yards,” he begged, looking behind at the nearing mob. “Come on baby, you can do it!”

The motor roared to life. He put it in low gear and pressed down on the accelerator. The car lunged then stopped. The bent front wheel sunk into the earth.

“Merciful Lord, please help us,” David whispered. The car jumped forward then rolled backward into the hole. “One more, that's it, rock your ass free.”

David gripped the wheel and rocked back and forth with the motion of the car as if he was freeing the vehicle from a mound of snow. Suddenly the motor screeched, smoke billowed from under the hood and the front end lifted. The car jumped forward so fast he nearly missed stopping the car atop Colleen's body.

“Now, Father, now!” David shouted as he jumped from the car. The priest carefully tossed the brilliant stick of burning light into the gasoline. It ignited into a blue, almost invisible flame that flashed along the path left from the hole in the tank.

The tank exploded in a bright orange ball of heat and light. The worshippers, thundering across the stream like a herd of wildebeest, dropped into the water, as did Father Ahern and David. After the blast, David shook his head clearing his blurry vision and noise from his ringing ears. Father Ahern stood next to him swatting a small flame on his pant leg.

The explosion lifted the patrol car and repositioned it atop the grave, incinerating Colleen's corpse. The mob of worshippers who had tried to stop the destruction of Isabel's portal from hell remained in the river. Some had remained in the water, others walked back towards town; a few watched the fire consume the grave.

The bright flames turn into a thick gaseous cloud. A figure floated, almost translucent, weaving within the black smoke rising high into the clear night sky. From under this specter rose other smaller forms floating among the larger. Hellish moans and screams came from all of them. They drifted higher, the din nearly unbearable.

David knew he hit his head during the wild ride and was certain the explosion's shock had caused momentary loss of senses, but had it also caused temporary insanity?

The priest moved next to David. He nodded at the specter in the smoke towering over them and asked, “A monk named Pelagius once stated that if you choose to disobey God's laws, then God will visit upon you. Do you know what he meant, David?”

David sat on the riverbank gazing in bewilderment at the rising blackness towering over them. His eyes told the priest he had no idea what he was saying.

Father Ahern continued, “Pelagius suggested that mere mortals had the power to ruin God's creations and if men chose to act wickedly then God was forced to punish them. The wind of human sin begets the whirlwind of divine vengeance. Because of human action we are punished by divine reaction.”

Still David watched the scene through confused eyes, his face splattered with dirt and blood. Father Ahern looked up at the specter encircled by hundreds of grayish blurs in the rising cloud.

“What you see is the spirit of Isabel Shea and the souls stolen from the Book of Life; souls not judged by the Almighty. They will spend eternity searching for peace due to Satan's damnation of this town, including us David. We are of Wexford heritage. We have the bloodline of those before us.”

David gulped hard, trying to bring moisture to a parched throat, causing his voice to become barely audible. His lip quivered as he spoke.

“How do you…know all these things?”

“I suffer as you and the others have, David.” Father Ahern placed a reassuring hand on David's shoulder. “But my memory will not be tarnished nor removed. I will recall the events, register the dead, and monitor the moments of discovery that will return Wexford to its beginnings. There we will regroup and with the same results, find ourselves once more in search of the evil that has permeated this town. And again, as I have numerous other times, will take you by the arm and lead you toward the light.”

David turned his head, gazing around the bank of the river and the field across the water. Both were dark except for the dancing shadows caused by the burning patrol car.

“The light…?”

Father Ahern made the sign of the cross with his good arm while watching the swirling mass of opaque wisps of smoke twitching alongside the form of the Banshee. “Still un-judged and still seeking release unto heaven or hell.”

He sighed heavily then stood. His body was tired, his mind exhausted, but he knew his duties. He looked down at David. His forehead was bleeding and the blast had splattered dirt over his body. The priest held out his hand to him.

“Come, we must go, it is time.”

“Go…go where?” David asked almost comatose. “I…I don't understand…you will remember but I won't, what does that mean?”

Father Ahern grinned at David's innocence and ignorance. He put his hand under David's arm and helped him to stand. He wobbled for a moment then regained his balance.

“We all hold a subdued sense of guilt.” The priest took hold of David's elbow, leading him gently back toward the town. “And are in need of punishment for believing in our hearts that destroying evil in the name of our Lord was justified. We suffer because we blundered, we blundered when we murdered in his name, and it was not righteous. The witch seeks her vengeance and it has been granted…Come, David.”

David was not sure of the priest's words or their meaning but strolled with him along the riverbank. His head throbbed and ears still reverberated from the blast. He looked once again at the fog-like figure floating above the smoldering patrol car and burning grave. He thought he saw a grin within the dark mass of evil, and then his eyes rolled back into his head, releasing him from the pain.