Dead Village (16 page)

He quickly turned without thinking about it, and ran. This was purely a self preservation exercise, and he wasn't even sure what direction he was going in. He simply ran on and on, until he could run no more. Exhausted, he flopped down behind a large tree and swallowed hard at the welcoming air filling his lungs.

Ten long minutes passed, until he finally got his breath back, and then he was ready to move on. The clouds though had once more covered the moon, and all around him there was darkness. He was sorry he'd never given the smoking up years ago. Maybe then he'd have been out of the forest by now, instead of fighting for breath like this. But he hadn't, and now he craved a smoke more than anything. He stood up, pulled out a cigarette, and squeezed it tightly between his lips, but lighting it was another thing. Why in this darkness a naked flame would show up to hell and back, he knew. His hands shook violently. A noise, something, frightened him, and he put the lighter to his side and walked slowly on.

As he turned out passed a large tree, he noticed a movement. Something was hiding in the bushes, in front.

He whispered to himself without even realising he was doing it. Then a quick movement to his left, startled him. Up in front, another. He spun around as bushes and shrub everywhere started to shake. Louder and louder they became, the shaking increasing by the second.

The small familiar figures moved from the bushes, followed by more and more.

“Badgers,” he whispered.

Suddenly badgers were appearing in all directions, scraping, snorting. He had never seen as many badgers in the one place before, and as they continued to appear from everywhere, he put the cigarette to his mouth and lit it up. The badgers were getting nearer, and as he puffed hard, he held the naked flame of the lighter out toward them and swung it in an arc. The badgers ignored it, and came on.

“Yaaagghh,” he yelled loudly, in a bid to frighten them off. But still, the badgers came on. Now Adam felt real fear. A fear of something unknown. He had hunted these animals for most of his life, and he had never seen these docile creatures act like this before. Closer they came, closer, hundreds of them.

“Get back, get back,” he yelled, as the last little flame of his lighter died away.

A large badger rushed forward and bit down on his leg, hard. The pain shot up his body as he kicked out with his other heavy boot, into the badgers face, but he slipped awkwardly and sprawled down onto his back. The badger held on though, and he kicked out, again and again with his heel. Now he really knew just how tough these little sons-o-bitches could be. And now he realised just how these shy little vegetable eating rodents could fight back against him and his kind.

Suddenly two more badgers lunged toward him and gripped his other leg, tearing hard at his flesh. “Arrgghh,” he screamed, as his adrenalin kicked in, and he fought to stand up. He managed to get to his knees, when three more badgers leapt onto his back, biting and ripping through his coat. He could feel the warm blood as it flowed over his cold skin. He swung his body, like some maddened rodeo bull, as he tried to force them off. But their powerful jaws held tight. Now there were more pulling at him in some mad surreal, killing frenzy. He went down for the last time, but suddenly the badgers moved back, away from him.

He struggled, bloodied, to drag himself to a tree, and leaned back against it. With a bleeding hand he reached to his pocket for another cigarette, but the packet had been crumpled. He swore loudly as he stared ahead. Then he saw it. It was the large badger he had injured with his shovel, earlier.

It was some distance away, but the clouds were dispersing and in the moonlight he could see its bloodied torso, as it dragged its mangled rear leg behind it. It slowly moved menacingly forward, toward him.

It was sometime before the old badger reached him, and it struggled hard to climb up onto his chest. Adam was fighting to breath now, and he knew death was fast approaching him.

The old badger moved to within six inches from his face, and stared hard. Its somehow friendly looking face seemed to show no anger toward him.
This is a look of pity,
Adam thought.
This bloody old burrowing animal is actually showing me some pity.
Of this he was certain, and he laughed. It stared into his eyes and cocked its head slightly, and now he could read its thoughts.

Adam felt a tear roll down his cheek, as he felt the memories of a thousand years of torture to these innocent creatures burn through his mind. Now he didn't feel fear anymore, because now he felt sorrow for what he had done.

“I-I'm, s-so sorry, please forgive m-me,” he choked, as though the badly injured animal could understand him.

The old badger looked around at the others and snorted loudly, as if commanding them. They moved off, back to where they had come from, as the old badger slowly dragged itself away, leaving a bloodied trail as it moved off, into a hedge, to die.

Adam looked up to the sky, as a shooting star moved quickly overhead. He wiped his tears away with a bloodied hand, and he thought one last time about his wife and children, and as he smiled he lowered his head for the last time.

CHAPTER 18

Back at the church, Tully was trying to prepare himself for the task ahead. He wrung his hands nervously and stared at the ceiling before speaking.

“What a bloody situation, we've gotten ourselves into,” he moaned.

“No Tully, you people didn't ask for this,” the priest stated. “This was brought to you by a force of evil. Don't blame it on anything you think you may have done. Evil thrives on this sort of negative thinking.”

“What can we do, Father O'Neill? Do we really have a chance? Remember, we have no mine to bless this time, and no cameras to warn us,” Donald asked.

Francis quickly butted in.

“Well, Donald, if you think back on it, the blessing of Lamont's mine wasn't really a success either, because the demon broke out from it.”

“I wouldn't call it a complete failure though, because the evil Reverend Collins was destroyed inside of it, and the creature was injured badly, although it did escape,” Tully stated.

“Yes, but if you recall, it was only with the help of others of its kind that it broke free from the mine, but I suppose this at least gave us some time,” Dan argued.

“All of that doesn't matter. What really saved us was Griff, and we really need him here now. If he hadn't been there at the mine back then, we'd all have been scattered across the forest floor, in bloody pieces,” Tully stated.

“We can't have him guys, so get used to it,” Dan argued. “I searched everywhere for him. But I truly believe in Thomas here. Don't under estimate the power of the Lakota.”

Thomas stood staring out from a window, ignoring them, but everyone could see he was talking to himself.

“He um, he chants a lot,” Francis whispered.

“It's his way,” Dan answered.

Suddenly Thomas turned to face them.

“We must be brave my friends, and we must unite in our strength. No one must show any fear. Evil will always attack the weakest first.”

“That's why I don't want Francis to go, she's a woman,” Tully moaned.”

“This means nothing. I am not talking about bodily strength Tully,” Thomas stated. “Bodily strength alone will be of no use to us in this situation. It will be our thoughts that will see us through this struggle,” he added.

*  *  *  *  *

The band agreed that they would have to meet this challenge, sooner, rather than later, and for some of them they simply had no choice. Dan Winters would have to try and destroy this evil, if he was to have any hope for his wife and children. Tully had no choice either, as he was beyond certain that the demon was going to return for him. Francis was also aware of Mr Cliff's threats, and she had no doubt that he had planned to kill her also.

None of them though, were aware of the path Donald O'Shea had already decided on.

The others had simply been victims of circumstance, but Father O'Neill and Thomas were needed more than the rest. They would be their only hope, they believed.

Everyone agreed that they would enter the forest the next evening, just before dark, led by the priest, with Thomas in the rear.

Thomas suggested they all try to get some sleep, and he and Dan bade them goodnight as he and Thomas left for the guest house down the street.

Father O'Neill prepared his room for Francis, and she immediately went to bed down, while he again offered Tully the couch. This hardened outdoor man would be quite all right sleeping in the chair for tonight.

Father O'Neill entered the kitchen and prepared some tea for Tully as a nightcap, but when he returned Tully was already fast asleep.

“The poor man is exhausted,” he stated to Scraps, who ran back and forth, tail wagging.

“Yes, Tully could do with a good nights sleep,” he whispered. “He's a good man, who didn't deserve this.”

Sister Dorothy would be returning to the church in two days time, for an appointment, which was just as well, as she wouldn't have approved of him using the church's personal accommodation almost as a hotel, Tim knew.

But what could he do. Lives were in danger here, and this was just a small sacrifice he would have to make. However, taking these demons on and going against church procedures would put him in hot water with his superiors. Maybe he would be excommunicated. He put the thought from his mind. There was just no time for red tape, and it was something he felt he just had to do.

But Father O'Neill was certain that when Stazivore came, there would be very little hope for any of them anyway.

*  *  *  *  *

Next day, after a hearty breakfast, Donald and the others returned, and they prepared themselves for the showdown that lay ahead. It was late afternoon when the door rapped loudly. Officer Fagan stood, grim faced and nervous looking, but he held himself together.

“Hello again, Father O'Neill,” he said.

“Hello Jeremiah, what can I do for you?”

“I have come to ask if you know the whereabouts of some people.

They seem to have gone missing, and well, we're trying to find them.”

“People!”

“Yes, the Kavanagh brother's, and a man by the name of Samuel Blake, Madge Tully and Eri…”

“What do you mean, missing?” Father O'Neill interrupted.

It wasn't that he wanted to lie, but under no circumstances could he let Jeremiah know that he already knew what had happened to Madge and Erin.

The Kavanagh brother's were well known for their activities, and he was now certain that the creatures must have come upon them also.

“No, I know nothing of these people's whereabouts,” he lied.

“We have already been searching the forest, Father, and we have found a damaged discarded camera in the trees. It belonged to Samuel Blake, he's a freelance photographer, and he's also gone missing. Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Father O'Neill replied. “I know Mr Blake.”

Well they checked the film in his camera and…”

“Yes, go on,” Father O'Neill urged.

Jeremiah cautiously removed two photographs from his pocket and stared nervously at them for a moment.

“I know I shouldn't have, but I took these photos from the station. No one there is really sure what they are looking at though. Here, check them out.”

As soon as Donald saw the photos, he knew instantly what it was. The full creature wasn't in any of the pictures, but Donald could make out its cape, flowing in the wind. He had seen this before

“Good God,” he whispered. “That's it!”

He passed the photos around, and Francis and Tully nodded in acknowledgement that this was indeed a demon like the ones they had faced before.

“There's something else Father,” Officer Fagan said as he stared hard at the young priest.

“Go on.”

“Well, its Mrs Greta Casey, she's um, well, she's dead. Her neighbour, Mrs Dempsey, she heard…” Jeremiah paused for a moment. “Well um-Mrs Dempsey, she heard Mrs Casey's house being ransacked, wailing and stuff, so she called us.”

“How did she die Jeremiah, do they know yet?”

“Well, we found the poor woman dead in her bed, but the house inside was a mess. To look at it you would think it had been pounded by a tank. I mean I have never seen anything like it before, ever. The sergeant also thinks Gre-um, I mean Mrs Casey was murdered.”

“Murdered, you say.”

“Yes, it looks like her neck may have been broken.”

Donald, who had been standing behind the priests shoulder, spoke up.

“Do they have any suspects yet Jeremiah?”

“No, but extra police officers have been sent for, and they are coming soon, from as far as Dublin. Oh, and Sergeant Hutchison and Officer Watson were seen leaving Cappawhite at great speed, with their families. The inspector thinks they may be somehow responsible and he's put out an alert to have them stopped.”

“They didn't do anything wrong, Jeremiah,” Donald stated. “They are as much victims in this as the people you are looking for.”

“Come inside,” the priest urged.

It had taken them a good half hour to explain everything they knew about the situation to Jeremiah. They also informed him that they would be going into the forest to confront the demons.

“This place will be buzzing with police and perhaps army personnel in a couple of hours,” Jeremiah croaked. “You won't get near the forest when they come.”

“Then we must go now,” the priest urged. “We have no time to lose.”

“Can you give us time to get into the woods Jeremiah?” Father O'Neill asked.

Jeremiah looked at each one of these people with concern.

*  *  *  *  *

He believed what they had said to be true, because he remembered back to when he had taken Greta's son to the station some years previously. Brian had claimed he had seen a demon then, and Charles had verified his brother's story from the hospital.

He hadn't thought much about it since then, but after this affair with Mrs Casey, and what he had just been told, he changed his mind. Now he believed everything they said.

He was aware though that once outside the safety of the church, they would all be placing themselves in great danger.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You must pretend you have been told by me, that those missing people are with me inside the church,” Father Tim declared.

“You mean lie, and get myself into a heap shit of trouble when they find out.”

“If you don't do it, many more will die,” Tully stated.

“Yes, very many more, you must help us Jeremiah,” Francis pleaded.

Donald nodded in the affirmative, as Thomas spoke loudly.

“We have no time to lose, my friends. The horseman, he comes.” Jeremiah held his head.

“All right, all right,” he repeated. “I'll try, but I don't know if they'll believe me.”

“You must convince them somehow Jeremiah,” Donald said.

Jeremiah nodded, and gave a forced half smile.

“Thank you Jeremiah, thank you,” the priest added.

Thomas, bundle in hand, moved toward the door, urging them to make a move.

Suddenly Jeremiah's radio cackled. It was Sergeant Muldoon.

‘Where the hell are you Fagan?'

When Jeremiah answered, he spoke quickly, much too quickly, Donald felt.

“You can call off the search sarge; they are all here at the church.”

“Are you sure boy, have you seen them?”

Jeremiah paused for a moment, but when he answered he hedged the question.

“They are in the church with Father O'Neill,” he lied.

“What in Gods name are they doing in the church?” Sergeant Muldoon asked with suspicion in his voice.

“Is Madge Tully there?” Muldoon added.

“Um, I believe she is, and Erin.”

The sergeant knew that Madge hadn't attended church since her break up with Tully, and he stared hard at his radio. Something was very wrong here, he felt. Something was very wrong indeed.

The silence on the radio spoke volumes.

“He's suspicious. He knows Madge doesn't attend church. We must do something,” Jeremiah spat.

Father O'Neill wrenched the radio from the young policeman's hand and pressed the microphone send button.

“Sergeant Muldoon, I'm trying to conduct a wedding here. Tully and Madge are having a private wedding. They've patched up their differences, and these other people here are witnessing it. We will be finished in about thirty five minutes, and then you may come down. Do you hear me Muldoon?”

“I hear you Father,” the sergeant answered, “but I'm having great trouble believing what I'm hearing.”

“Do you doubt my word, Sergeant Muldoon?”

“Um, no Father, I don't. It's just that I'll need some statements from the parties concerned.”

“In that case, you may come down to the church in thirty minutes time, and take as many statements as you like.”

The sergeant had seen Tully and Francis just the other day, and he remembered thinking of how in love they seemed to be.

In any event, I don't remember Tully and Madge ever getting a divorce,
he thought.

“I'm coming down there now,” he spat.

“Could you not have thought up something better than that Tim?” Tully questioned, as he shook his head.

“Sergeant Muldoon would never believe that load of baloney.”

Father O'Neill firmly handed back the radio to Jeremiah, and patted his arm thankfully, ignoring Tully.

“Fagan, get back up here now with the car, and pick me up,” the agitated sergeant's voice ordered.

“I'm on my way,” Jeremiah lied.

“I'll do my best to stall him,” Jeremiah said. “I'll claim I've had a flat tyre.”

“You're a good man, Jeremiah,” Dan said.

“Let's go,” Donald moaned. “We've little time left.”

“Good luck to you all,” Jeremiah stated.

Thomas gripped the spear firmly and stared at it for a moment, before making some more chants.

“None of us may come back from this,” Dan whispered to Donald.

“We don't have any choice,” Donald replied. “We must be brave.” As they walked out into the cold, already darkening street, Scraps led the way, tail wagging, like a little Majorette leading the band parade.

“Why are you bringing the dog along Father? Do you think that's a wise choice?” Francis asked.

Thomas spun around, not giving the priest time to answer.

“The dog will be good medicine. He will sense them before we do. He will warn us,” Thomas said.

As they entered the forest, a light drizzle of rain fell, and the wind picked up, but they moved very quickly now.

Father O'Neill prayed while Thomas chanted, and Francis felt as though it was all just some wild dream.