Hell Calling II
Authors: Enrique Laso
Hell Calling II
Enrique Laso
––––––––
Translated by Gordon Downie - Valeria Lagos Terrizzano
“Hell Calling II”
Written By Enrique Laso
Copyright © 2015 Enrique Laso
All rights reserved
Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.
www.babelcube.com
Translated by Gordon Downie - Valeria Lagos Terrizzano
“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.
Hell Calling II
E
nrique Laso
F
ather Salas, after several hours praying at the altar, left the church purposefully. He might have finally understood what was really happening, or it may have been that his discernment and experience had not quite revealed the whole truth to him, but certainly a fundamental part of it.
Night had fallen over the city of Madrid, and his car, which he'd left partly crushed against a lamp post at the door of the temple, still had the driver's door open and the keys in the ignition. He started it up and knew exactly where to go: Esteban's place, Carlos's father. He was going to need his help, and that of Elena, to face the most complex challenge of his entire life: saving two souls unfairly condemned to a life trapped in Hell.
While he flew through the streets of the Spanish capital, he was very careful not to look in the rear view mirror. From now on, he would have to avoid mirrors, for his mental, physical and emotional wellbeing.
Despite the absolute resolve that pushed him forward, he felt that evil was spinning around inside him, an evil he know well and that had already attacked him in the past. Facing the devil and his acolytes involved enormous risks. He could have taken refuge beside the image of the crucified Jesus, surrounded by holy water, and thus continue his life in a retired manner, away from any danger. But that was not him, he'd never been like that, and if God had sent him there, it was because He surely needed his servant to be in that predicament. And he was not about to let his Lord down, even if he lost his earthly life in the process.
E
lena couldn't get back to sleep. The effect of the tranquilisers had vanished as soon as she heard Carlos's voice, pleading through her small radio. She tried to fall asleep, she tried to relax, but it was impossible. She finally decided to get up and start working: somewhere in the hundreds of notes she'd taken, she might find an explanation for all this chaos. Had she lost her mind for good? Was it really Carlos who had spoken to her from hell? How could all of it be explained?
Before endlessly tormenting herself, she thought that the best idea was to phone Andrés. He may be more lucid and able to calm her down or indeed to start a new investigation.
"Good evening, Andrés, it's Elena," she whispered, her voice broken.
"What is it? Are you all right? he asked, noticing the sad tone in his colleague's voice.
"You won't believe this..."
"You know I can take anything," replied Andrés, with temperance, certain that something completely out of the ordinary had to have happened for his friend to speak in such a dejected voice, full of doubt.
"Carlos... Carlos has just spoken to me through my radio receptor..."
An uncomfortable silence came over the line for a few seconds. Andrés was wondering what to say next.
"Are you entirely sure? We've all been under enormous pressure these last few weeks..."
"I am one hundred percent sure, and that is what worries me the most: I may well be going crazy."
"Did he say anything?"
"Yes. He asked for help. He said he's in Hell."
"Is that not exactly what his daughter used to tell him?"
"Yes. The same..."
"Well, for the time being, try to calm down. I'm coming over to your place right away, and we'll try to look at the situation calmly, what do you say?"
"That's exactly what I was hoping for."
"We'll try and find out what the hell's going on."
"This is so... demented."
Andrés felt tension at the top of his stomach, a sort of flashing idea that came from his gut.
"Maybe not..."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Call it intuition. We shall see. We may have been missing the point all this time, going to the wrong direction."
F
ather Salas had managed to gather them all in the large living room at Esteban's. There was Elena, Esteban and Andrés, who the former had insisted on taking along. She thought his implication in the case was absolutely vital. The first thing she did, as soon as she arrived, was tell Carlos's father and the priest what she'd heard through the radio.
"This confirms my suspicions," mused Father Salas.
"What suspicions?" asked Esteban, who felt totally overwhelmed by the circumstances.
"We've been confounded all these weeks. I never took anything for granted, although I think I added to all the confusion."
"That's what Andrés thinks," Elena said.
Father Salas felt comforted to see that he no longer was the only one who suspected they'd probably wasted some precious time.
"And what exactly is it that you think, Andrés...?"
The technician looked at the people in the living room, feeling unsure how to proceed. His shy nature made him feel uncomfortable in this situation, but he knew he had to share his intuition, however mad they'd be.
"That psychophony we recorded from Laura's mother, I've been thinking about it a lot..."
"Go on, please," Esteban encouraged him, restlessly.
"When Elena phoned me and told me that Carlos had spoken to her through her radio, asking for help from Hell, I had a hunch. Right away, I thought Alicia was actually behind all this mess".
"Alicia?" asked Esteban, totally perplexed.
Father Salas could not hide a slight grimace of satisfaction. Despite the fact that what Andrés was saying was absolutely terrible, it fully coincided with the vision he had had at the altar, while he was thanking the Lord for having come to his servant's aid.
"That's right. I've had the same... let's call it a 'revelation'."
"That can't be true!" Esteban exclaimed, sick of having to bear so much grief.
"Please, my friend, calm down, I beg you. Now we need to join forces to save your son and your granddaughter, if we still can."
"But, how can we do it?" asked Elena, who could barely follow the course of events. She was very emotional and still deeply shocked by what Carlos had told her through the radio.
"We have to find out why Alicia condemned them to Hell: firstly, her daughter and then, her husband."
E
lena soon made a list of Alicia's closest friends. Despite Carlos having said that she had only one friend - Ana, the parapsychologist had soon discovered that her inner circle was actually somewhat wider. This also proved how distant this man and his wife had been, in every way. It was quite sad, seen in perspective.
With Esteban's permission, Elena and Andrés had set themselves up in Carlos's flat. They could work better there and be in direct contact with the place where the three main characters in this truculent story had lived.
"We'll need more sophisticated equipment," said Andrés, while testing the highly sensitive microphones.
"What do you mean?"
"There's something here that's escaping us, and this equipment isn't enough."
"That's your intuition again..."
"Well, yes. You hear voices speaking from Hell in a radio, and I have become more sensitive. That's the way things are."
Elena went closer to Andrés and ruffled his hair affectionately. This was not the time to generate tension between the two of them.
"I'm sorry. We are all edgy. I'll make some calls to try and get you some state of the art equipment. This case will catch people's imagination and there will surely be people willing to give us a hand."
"But I wouldn't want a bunch of strangers to come along and take control of the situation..."
Elena took some time to answer. What her colleague was suggesting was more usual than she imagined. She didn't want that happening either.
"Don't worry. I'll find a way to keep us in charge of everything."
"And now... what?"
"Have you finished installing it all?"
"Nearly there..."
"Well, now I need you to give me a hand. We're going to do something I probably should have done first of all."
"What's that?"
"After Laura and Alicia died, and with the sensible purpose of keeping memories away, Carlos closed two rooms in this house. One of which was his daughter's bedroom, which I have scoured from top to bottom since the day I became involved in this story. But, even though he gave me his permission to look in the other one, I haven't done so, and now is the time to go in there and see what we can find."
Andrés was quite surprised. Although he'd spent a long time in the place, he had hardly moved from the living room. He knew that some doors were closed and through prudence and discretion, he had never thought to open them.
"And what's that room?"
"It's a room that Carlos turned into a sort of junk room. Or I should say, a sort of shrine. In it, Carlos put anything that had to do with Alicia, to keep it out of sight as quickly as he could. Incredibly enough, at the time I deemed those things to be unimportant. However, I am now convinced that we'll find some clues there. Or, with a bit of luck, even some answers".
F
ather Salas was in the church with Esteban. They had both been praying in silence for a few minutes, in a temple that sheltered them in absolute intimacy. They had decided to repeat that ritual every day, as a token of their religious devotion and their faith in God to help them get through this crazy situation.
"This is the only place where I feel safe," stated Father Salas, breaking the moment of reflection.
"Are you scared?"
"Yes, I must admit, I am. Esteban, I ran away from Mexico because I had faced evil on too many occasions. Us exorcists aren't extraordinary beings... we are simple people, like anyone else. But our work does require a prodigious fortitude. And I think I've depleted mine."
Esteban, almost instinctively, put a hand on the priest's shoulder. This gesture reminded him immediately of his son Carlos and the last days he'd spent with him.
"Father, you are an exceptional man. And you have no idea how pleased I am to be able to count on you in these hard times."
The priest was comforted by those words. He could see in Esteban's eyes the hope that, maybe one day, his son and his granddaughter would be back with him.
"I cannot guarantee anything. I can only assure you that I will do everything within my power."
"I know..."
"Praying together every day, at this altar, will give us the strength and the faith we shall need to trust in God and the future. This will also heal our wounds."
"Our wounds?" asked Esteban, not understanding.
"We are facing an evil entity that will try to confound us and, if it's within its reach, to take our souls."
Esteban knelt down again on the cold ground. He put his hands firmly together and whispered a short prayer. He was no longer afraid.
"You can count on me. I feel like I've failed my son and that is tormenting me. No goddamn demon will stop me now that I know I can make up for my mistake."
B
eatriz's house was on the outskirts of Madrid, in a leafy residential area made up of large gardens, nice streets and carefully maintained terraced houses, which formed a sort of labyrinth. Elena already knew that she was one of Alicia's closest friends. Possibly the closest, except for Ana, and that was the reason why she'd decided to begin her investigation on Carlos's wife there.
"Hello, I'm Elena. I called you a while ago."
A woman with a pleasant, beautiful face was looking at her from the doorway. After processing this information, she let her in with a formal smile.
"Of course, come in please. As I said before, my husband has taken the kids to the cinema and so we can talk in peace."
"How many children do you have?" asked Elena politely, and also trying for an atmosphere of relative confidence between them.
"Three. They really are a bunch of cheeky monkeys, but I adore them. To be able to have some peace, my husband and I have an agreement: each week, one of us takes them out: to the park, to the cinema, to the zoo, so the other one has a few hours to be on their own at home. And, to be honest, I love the day I have to take them out as much as the day I can enjoy my time alone."