Jessica's Diary!

[Ghostwriter1983]

Jessica's Diary!

My name is Sue McCaffe. When The Police investigation was completed, I was one of the volunteers who came to clean our neighbor’s old historical house. Blood stains were seen everywhere and the stench of death was over powering. Some of the other's ran out onto the lawn, threw up and never came back. But five of us did stay and did our best to pack up the belongings, which would be shipped to a distant relative, back east. The police were baffled at how and why the family of seven was murdered. Bill and Jessica Jacobson were parents of five children, ages two through nine.

Their phone line worked and the doors were dead bolted from the inside. There were no signs of forced entry and all the windows were found locked. They ruled out suicide. Rumors were that the family’s bodies were literally ripped apart. Tossed around like rag dolls is what I heard. As I looked everywhere, the blood high on the walls practically in every room confirmed it. The peculiar thing that baffled police most was the door leading to the basement.

It had been nailed shut with three heavy boards but the boards now lay on the hallway floor. The light switch to the basement also didn’t work. As I was bringing back another box, I stopped in my tracks in front of the basement door. I saw on the inside of the open basement door, large, deep claw marks dug into the hardwood door and I cringed. My mind forced me to believe that something horrible was in the basement and had forced its way into the house. Something evil.

What could it have been I thought, and where was it now? A dank, coldness escaped from the blackness of the basement as I stared down the stairway. I hurriedly moved away and went to Jessica’s bedroom with my box. Even the ceiling was blood splattered, with dried drops of blood on the bedspread. I began to pick up books by the night stand, mostly western romance novels. That’s when I noticed a small blue book partially hidden between the bed and the night stand.

Instinctively I picked it up and the cover of the book said, ‘Diary’. Out of curiosity I turned to the last page and in shaky hand writing were the words, "I know we’ll all be found dead!" Instantly, I dropped the book and stared at the diary on the floor by my feet. I wanted to scream, yell, cry for help, but I couldn’t, as tears rolled down my cheeks. The answer to what happened to this nice family would be found in that diary, I knew it and I reached down and picked it up with trembling fingers.

As I turned to page one, there was one sentence at the bottom of the page that appeared to have dried tear stains on the paper. The message was, "May God have mercy on all who enter this demon possessed house!" I had known Jessica for years and she was not one to believe in demons, ghosts and the supernatural. But it was her handwriting and her name was signed under the eerie message. As I turned the pages, one by one, Jessica spoke of a lot of things. You know the excitement of moving into a historical old house and restoring it.

Page after page seemed typical ramblings of a mother, a wife with jabbering little one's running everywhere. Towards the middle of the diary, the pages stuck together and were hard to separate without tearing them. I realized they were from Jessica's tears.

The entry date was...
November 2, 2004...
"I heard the voice again coming from the basement and I’m so frightened. Bill, Oh my God! He thinks I’m losing my mind.
There’s no power in the basement for some reason and when Bill went down stairs, I picked up the phone to call the police but the line went dead, no dial tone. Then I heard footsteps running down stairs and the twins rushed to me crying. Bill came back upstairs and told me no one was in the basement and I asked him to check the phone.

To my shock, the dial tone sounded clear. The twins know something, I can see it in their eyes but they won't tell me anything." I read Jessica's Diary, like a bestselling novel I couldn't put down. Over the weeks she wrote about events or what she calls, disturbances. Eerie things that sounded like they were right out of a Stephen King horror movie. She wrote again of Bill going down into the basement to check out sounds. Sounds that he too began to hear.

December 14, 2004...

"Bill heard the sounds too. Finally he doesn't think I'm going nuts! He heard the sounds of some sort of metal can being tipped over, like a five gallon paint can or gas can maybe. Bill searched the entire basement and I watched the beam of his flashlight sweeping the room, from side to side. Suddenly, to the far right, I saw a shadow of something running into the darkness, away from Bill. I called out his name desperately and asked him if he saw anyone?” and he calmly said "No, there's nothing down here darling."
Finally, he came back up the stairs to my relief, but told me in a shaking voice, there wasn't anything metal in the basement, no cans, nothing. Oh my God! I’m scared and I held tight to Bill as I cried. "Bill, while you were down there, I saw your flashlight’s beam. I saw where you were the entire time. There was someone or something down there with you, I saw its shadow!” I really don't know if he believed me or not.

“He told me besides the furnace, there wasn't anything in the basement, not so much as a cardboard box." Jessica wrote. By now tears were rolling down my cheeks for Jessica, because I believed her. I believed every word. And now, now her entire family was dead, murdered by something so horrible; I was too terrified to imagine what it was. The basement door. Oh No! The basement door had been boarded up. But now, the boards were scattered on the floor in the hallway.

I crept down the hallway toward the basement door as I heard other's moving around in other rooms, boxing things up and talking to each other. As I approached the basement door, I was shaking, almost unable to breathe. Then, I was next to the door desperately afraid of the sounds I might hear. But there was nothing but eerie silence and a cold breeze. That seemed odd, because I knew there were no windows or outside doors, leading to the basement.

Once more I looked at the marks on the inside of the door. Who or what could have made such deep marks in a hardwood door? Then I heard it and tried to block it from my mind, pretending that my ears were playing games on me as I grew hysterical. I heard the same familiar scuffing sounds Jessica had heard made across the basement floor. The sounds that made Jessica cry out and call to her husband. I didn't wait another second as I slammed the basement door shut.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and as I did, I heard footsteps on the stairwell. They were heavy, solid, but slow. Something was taking it's time to reach the door. I heard the other's rushing to the hallway frightened, looking in both directions until they saw me on the floor with my back against the door. As my four friends rushed to my side, I pleaded, "Hurry, push if you want to live! Push as hard as you can against this door, don't let it in!" I shouted.

Everyone got down on the floor and leaned against the door and then something hit the door hard! Something hit the door so hard Becky screamed. Again and again we felt the door being pounded as the force pushed us away from the door. Each time we were pushed away, we pushed back as if our life depended on it. The look on everyone’s faces reassured me that they knew what ever had killed Jessica and Bill's family was now trying to kill us.

I looked down at my feet as I strained with all my strength to keep the door shut and I saw the heavy wooden boards with nails protruding in a pile. Jo Ann was crying she recited the Lord's Prayer. Soon everyone staring at me followed my eyes to the boards and had the same idea, to re-board the door. But we dared not let go of the door. Suddenly, we were all reciting the Lord's Prayer together and then came the smell.

The most horrific, indescribable stench of rotting flesh filled our senses. Like something that had laid rotting out in the summer sun for a month. Then I heard it, well, I think we all must have heard it, the sounds of something going down into the basement slowly, limping. Whatever was at the top of the steps was going back down into the basement as I felt my tears rushing down my cheeks.

My eyes looked at John and then to the nearest board and he nodded nervously. But then he hesitated and I nearly went insane. "I know where there’s a hammer. It's on the kitchen counter, but one of you must get it." John said. No one moved. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Becky was the smallest of us and she reached over and clenched my hand hard.

"I'll be back in a second, I promise." she said in a trembling voice. Slowly and quietly she made her way towards the kitchen. The hardwood floor not so much as making a squeak. Twice she turned her head back and looked at us and I will never forget the fear written in her eyes. It seemed like minutes, no hours before we saw her with a hammer in hand coming back to us. When she sat down and leaned back against the door, she almost collapsed as she handed the hammer to John.

It was a calculated risk I took to scoot the nearest board towards John with my foot. I knew we wouldn't have much time to make room for John to pound the nails in fresh holes. “Listen to me.” John said. “When I pick up the board, you four duck down and I’ll nail the board in. Keep scooting the boards over to me.” he said. Then Becky lost it. Her eyes looked wild with fear as she shook her head no. "We can't let go of the door, let's all just run like hell.

We can get away, I know we can!" she said with tears streaming down her cheeks. With my right hand, I slapped her face hard and told her to pull herself together. "We can't run Becky, we'll never all make it to the front door, there's too many of us. We have to board the door first to buy us time to escape. Just do as John says, stay low and push hun!" I said.
But secretly, I knew there was a drawback to John’s plan. Something he never mentioned. Perhaps the others knew it too, but were just too scared to say anything! John weighed 320 pounds. He was the heaviest one of us. Without his weight to hold the door shut, I knew we couldn't keep the demon in the basement. Once we were knocked to the floor, no one was running anywhere.

But we didn't have any other choice but to go for it. Deep inside, I knew the boards hadn't kept this thing in the basement for long. It had killed an entire family. But maybe, just maybe we would have just enough time to make it out of the house. Becky and I were crying as Sam and Steve pushed against the door hard. Slowly, John leaned down with one big hand and picked the board up as we leaned down, to give him room.

I knew that as soon as the pounding started the footsteps would return and all hell would break loose. I had never felt so close to dying before. John positioned the board just above my head, the strongest part of the door and as he pounded, the sound was deafening to my ears. With each thud against the door, my back ached. He placed his huge boot against the bottom of the door which was the only source of comfort I felt. I hoped it was enough to save us all.

By the time the second board was nailed, my ears were still ringing. If the demon was on the steps of the stairway, if it was standing on the top step inside of the door, we couldn't have known it. I think we were so scared it really didn't matter at that point. Two boards were left to be nailed against the basement door. Finally all four boards were nailed as we all sat on the floor, our backs against the door, shaking, crying, as Becky hugged my neck.

We sat there in stark disbelief at what we had witnessed and not a word was spoken. But the look in each of our eyes told the same story, that later, we knew would be part of a haunting nightmare. There was an evil spirit in this house, a doorway from hell and something wanted to enter our world. Would it or could it leave this house? I thought about Jessica and Bill, wondering why they didn’t just flee this house when they had a chance when things began to get unexplainable.

I knew the answers were in Jessica's diary, within her tear stained pages. Pages filled with anguish, of tearful prayers that this couldn't be happening. Suddenly, I realized to my horror that Jessica's diary wasn't with me. I had left it back in Jessica's bedroom. Before I could speak, John whispered, "Listen to me. I want you four to stand up and calmly walk out the front door while I stay and hold this door shut. We can't all run like frightened mice down this narrow hallway.

You all can do it, if you don't panic. I'll be fine. I can run once you all have made it outside." John said. I guess the look in my eyes told John something was wrong and I began to shakily whisper. "I can't leave, John, I can't. Jessica's Diary tells everything that happened in this house. I left the diary in their bedroom and I'm not leaving this house till I go back and get it." I said in a frightened voice. Everyone looked at me like I had gone mad. But after a moment, John told the other's to leave and motioned for me to head toward the bedroom.

Everything was going fine and as I reached the bedroom door, I saw the blue diary on the floor and I ran to it, reached down and picked it up. But no sooner had I held it, then a horrific thud hit the basement door and I heard a board hit the floor. John was putting all of his body weight against the door as thud after thud hit the door. I was running back down the hall now, getting closer to John with tears rolling down my face. I saw the look of terror in John's eyes as he motioned for me to run faster. Then I heard the sounds of wood splintering behind me.

As I turned back towards John, a fist size hole was made through the door and a grotesque clawed hand gripped John by the throat as his face turned red. Blood was spurting where each claw, punctured John’s throat, as he desperately kicked his feet, trying to pull away, but couldn’t.
My feet froze just past him as I screamed and he frantically waved his arms for me to get out. Then I almost jumped out of my skin as the pounding continued. I looked up and saw the nails working their way out of the last wood board.

In a desperate last chance effort to save my life, John kicked me in the leg and with a voice that barely could speak he gasped, "Run!" Blood was running down John's chest, soaking his shirt as a second hole was ripped through the door as both clawed hands ripped away at John. I ran, Oh My God! I ran as if Satan himself was right behind me and as I rushed onto the porch I saw the other's huddled around each other, shaking.

"Where's John?” asked Sam.” The more I tried to speak, the more I realized I had lost my voice. Sam began to race back up the steps and I grabbed his foot and held on tight to his leg, shaking my head, but he broke free. When he reached the doorway, he stopped in his tracks, as if he hit an invisible brick wall. He saw John’s lifeless, blood drenched body being pulled through the basement door by the two clawed arms and he was gone.

Sam ran back to us and yelled, “Get in the car!” and we needed no encouragement. Sam drove us as fast as he could to the police station! The Tulsa Police Precinct was in chaos when all four of us burst through the front door, screaming, wild eyed and terrified all talking 90 miles an hour of a murder. Officers were rushing up to the counter from the conference room, trying to calm us three women and one man down.

Because of all the confusion, an officer was assigned to take a report from each of them and to report to me, Detective David, as quickly as possible. It was clear that whatever these people had seen was terrible and they were distraught. I called the police psychologist, Sgt. Baker to the lobby immediately. Within an hour I had each witness statement regarding an alleged murder of a John Appleton and I had the time and location.

What unraveled before my eyes was a theory I had been working on since the family had been murdered last week. I hadn’t discussed my theory of a demon or supernatural spirit being the prime suspect to my superiors. Like many unsolved murders, the case simply remains open until it is solved, which in some cases can be 30 years. The Statute of limitations does not run out for the crime of murder.

But this was no ordinary murder. Two parents and five children were brutally murdered and now, according to witnesses, a third adult was dead. However, there was a new piece of evidence not discovered at the crime scene, by myself or the other detective working the case, Jessica’s personal diary. I had already confirmed the hand-writing was in fact Jessica's.

Before I headed to the crime scene with a swat team, I wanted to read her diary from beginning to end. I didn't know what I was going to find in the basement or in any other room, but I wasn't going to rush in blindly. I called Sgt. Olson, and informed him we had a tactical situation and want his men suited up within 30 minutes and to notify me when they were at their van.

I notified the watch commander of where we were going and the barest details possible at this point. After I read Jessica's diary, I opened the file and looked over the photographs of the basement door with the deep claw like marks. I looked at the boards and nail holes meant to keep something from leaving the basement or someone from going into the basement.

I took my radio out of the charger just as the phone rang and Sgt. Olson said he and his men were ready. I walked out into the police parking lot and approached the swat van as five officers looked at me anxiously. Every situation and every location has a different set of circumstances, scenarios and of course endings. I took Sgt. Olson aside for the moment and gave him a background of what had originally happened at the location we were going to.

I also updated him regarding what occurred today. I held in my hand copies of the layout of the house, doors, windows and where each room was located. I showed him the photo's that made his jaw drop open. When we had finished discussing our options, he nodded and we joined the swat team. All were seasoned officers, well trained, heavily armed and handpicked for their psychological adeptness to crisis situations.

I wanted Sgt. Olson to address his men, but he told me that I should explain and nervously I began. "Each of you I’m sure are aware of the murder of the Jacobson family on Larch Lane last week and I saw them nod. Well, according to witnesses packing up the belongings of that family, one of them was murdered a short while ago at that same location.

However, this house raid you are about to go on may be unlike anything you’ve ever encountered.” I said as I handed out the pictures of the basement door, the damage, claw marks and spoke again. "Something is in the basement gentlemen and whether you believe in spooks, ghosts or demons isn’t important. I'm telling you there are four witnesses in the station right now that are terrified to death.

There’s no question all of them are going to need mental health counseling. Whatever they saw in that house a few hours ago is beyond anything you’ve encountered before. You may not find anything and you may be in for the fight of your life." I told the swat team. As Sgt. Olson went over the layout of the house with his team, I paced back and forth next to the van.

I radioed for a marked car to meet me at the swat van. Within a few minutes, Sgt. Olson said his team was ready and the uniformed officer and his car were waiting for me. I notified dispatch of where we were going and everyone switched to tact 2 on our radios. When we turned onto the street near the house, I pulled over to the curb and stopped. The swat van pulled in right behind me.

I spoke to Sgt. Olson and asked him how he wanted to handle the house search. Based on what we knew, he felt the most effective way to enter the house was through the front door and kitchen door at the same time and converge on the basement door. He said two officers would do a room to room search as a standard precaution, with one officer and me converging on the basement door.

The uniformed officer and I were to enter through the front door as quietly as possible and wait inside until the swat team was in view. Under no circumstance was any officer to approach the basement door or go into the basement until everyone was in position. The last question I had was how we were approaching the house. Were we parking within view of the house or just down the street?

Sgt. Olson decided to get as close to the house as possible. So we got back in the two vehicles and drove up to the house, parked on the street and got out. I took the officer I was riding with and we approached the open front door cautiously. We stopped at the bottom of the steps with guns drawn. All five of the swat team ran along the side of the house where the kitchen door was located while we waited nervously.

I wanted to give them time to enter the house and split up. Then, we walked cautiously up the steps and got closer and closer to the front door. The hair was standing on the back of my neck and the worried look on the patrolman's face, I’m sure was same look on mine. Once at the doorway I could see boards, scattered on the hallway floor and the blood splattered basement door half open with a gaping hole through the middle.

I saw a blood stained tennis shoe and blood on the floor, a lot of blood, leaving a smudged trail down the stairwell, leading down into the basement. I could hear noises at the other end of the house and knew the swat team had made it inside. In less than a minute, Sgt. Olson and two officer's came into view and he motioned them to stop. He pointed down to the boards, tennis shoe, the door and blood.

One swat team member carried an AR-15 assault rifle, another held a pump shotgun and they took position on both sides of the basement doorway. Each weapon had a powerful flashlight attached which was good because I knew there was no power in the basement. We met the three officers at the basement doorway and the sergeant examined the claw marks, dug halfway thru the heavy door and showed them to his men.

I looked behind the sergeant and saw his other two officers coming quietly down the hallway. So there we were we were, eight armed officer's waiting, not knowing what we might encounter in the basement. Maybe we’d find nothing just like the first time we searched the basement. Sgt. Olson gave the signal and two officers began walking, step by step down the basement stairs.

Each step made an eerie squeak and then ‘all hell broke loose.’ As officer's Woods and Cramer reached the third step, both slipped on the blood stained stairs and fell. Woods began to turn and as he landed on the steps, his rifle went off, striking his partner and two other officers at the top of the stairs. Cramer, I guess, fearing he was being fired on, opened fire and struck Woods mistakenly with his shotgun blast as they both tumbled to the basement floor.

In those few seconds, four members of a seven man swat team had been either wounded or killed. I pulled out my radio, and called dispatch, shouting; “Code three shots fired, multiple officers down, 925 Larch Lane, request aid units and all available back up units.” It was the only call I made as I applied direct pressure to entry wounds, trying to stop the bleeding of one of the officer’s laying on the floor closest to me.

As I looked down the stairwell, I could see the assault rifle and shotgun's flashlight beams shining on the floor. I couldn't see either officer as I repeatedly called their names, but got no response. In the mean time, Sgt. Olson ordered one of his team to get out to the swat van pronto and bring back more assault rifles with flashlights and some flash grenades.

There was nothing but silence coming from the basement. It was an eerie feeling given the bloody mess we found when we arrived and now. I know from experience the worst fear of any police officer, especially assigned to a raid of any kind is to have things go bad. Usually, it's running into heavily armed multiple suspects, not accidentally shooting fellow officers.

The sounds of sirens were getting closer and closer. Whatever had been in the basement hadn't chosen to come at us, at least for the moment or it was already gone. I tried not to think of what would have happened had the creature chose to attack the two men in the basement. The first to arrive on the scene was Simmons, Jarvis and a rookie whose name I didn’t know.

Behind them was Phillips, with three assault rifles from the van, plus a belt with eight flash bang grenades over his shoulder. The sound of the siren's I heard now were from aid units as Simmons radioed that we needed additional aid units. There were six officers on the scene now carrying three assault rifles with flashlights and they were handed out. Sgt. Olson took the belt of flash grenades used to create a loud distraction like concussion in a small room, followed by a flash to disorient and confuse suspects in a room or as a diversion to gain entry.

Quickly he gave a rundown of what happened as I saw medics coming down the hall. Simmons and Jarvis helped pull the injured officer's farther away from the basement door. That allowed more room for the medics to treat the injured men. Sgt. Olson, not wanting to make the same mistake, cautioned the swat team to step slowly and cautiously one at a time down the steps as we moved out of the line of fire.

Sgt. Olson got into position and tossed one grenade to the left of the stairwell and as it went off, tossed another, to the right. Now the basement was even more dangerous, because it was smoky and hard to see. Sgt. Olson was the first to begin making his way down the blood stained steps. Once at the bottom, he gave a whistle, a signal for another swat member to come down and soon all three men were in the basement.

They found Officer Woods first, face down on the floor with a pool of blood around his head. He had taken a shotgun blast to the throat and was dead. Cramer's body was less than five feet away, curled up in a fetal position. He had at least one gunshot wound to the head, and several gunshots just below his bullet proof vest Sgt Olson radioed.

Now they began a careful sweep of the basement for any suspects. In a few moments, the Sgt. radioed they were coming back up the stairs and to hold our fire. Sgt. Olson called dispatch for an officer to bring back some sand so we could remove Woods and Cramer from the basement. Phillips told me that the other two swat team member's Conklin and Henry were at the hospital, awaiting surgery and that they were stable.

No doubt reporters and TV crews were gonna have a field day on this one. The watch commander was going to need a full report as well as internal affairs, who review all police shootings. I knew that it was going to be a long night for all of us. Once the bodies were removed, everyone went back to the station for debriefing. As I entered the police station, my suit, stained with blood, dried blood on my face and brow, I asked the front desk where the four witnesses had gone.

I was told that one was under hospital observation, two were given sedatives and sent home, but the fourth had said she was leaving town. What in the hell was going on I asked myself? I found out Sue McCaffe was the person who said she was leaving town and I got her address. As I pulled into the drive way of her residence, I saw the front door wide open. Next door was a heavy set man emptying the bag on his lawn mower into a trash can.

I knocked on Sue's door and heard, "She ain't home, left out of here, lickety split. Darndest thing I ever saw." The man took a look at my suit and said; "What the hell happen to you?” as I showed him my badge. "Never mind about me, tell me about Sue. Where’d she go?" I asked. "Said she was going to Billings I think, yes, Billings, Montana, by bus and that she wasn't coming back. I tell ya, I never seen such a scared gal in all my life.

It was like the devil himself was chasing her." he said. I thanked him and went back to the station to get cleaned up. Sue McCaffe had been the one who found the diary. I recalled it from her statement. She had also been the one who allegedly ran past some creature that killed her friend, John Appleton. Were the other three going to leave town too I asked myself as I backed out of the driveway.

When I reached the station, I showered, got into some clean clothes and finished my report. Then, rather than go home, as late as it was I drove thru the McDonald's drive thru, parked and ate as I tried to figure out what to do. I decided to stop in at the hospital and check on Donald Wigby who was admitted for observation as a patient on the psychiatric ward.

I doubted I would find out much, if anything, but the hospital was close by. The other two witnesses, I would try to contact tomorrow. When I reached the eighth floor, I went to the nurse’s station, showed my badge to the nurse and inquired into the status of Mr. Wigby. I waited patiently for her to read the chart notes and tell me what she could. All she would tell me was that the doctor who examined him found him to be incoherent, paranoid, frightened and was sedated.

I couldn't see the patient until I spoke with Dr. Brown, during the day shift. I made a note of the doctor's name and went home. Before the swat team had arrived at the Jacobson home, Sue had already gotten her one-way bus ticket bound for Billings, Montana and was pacing in front of door number seven waiting to board it. She was shaking, her eyes tearful and her movements drawing the attention of other passengers waiting for their buses.

Anxiously she looked at her watch and then the terminal clock, wishing the time would hurry up. She wanted to get as far away from Tulsa as she could and the nightmare that haunted her mind. She tried to block out the images of John being murdered, the diary, Jessica's tearful words and the grotesque claw hands tearing John apart as she ran for her life.

When the announcement came over the loudspeaker for passengers to board the bus for Memphis, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Soon, more and more people stood in her line, bound for Memphis and further on to Billings. She was unaware of the concerned glances people gave each other as they watched her movements. A lady behind her touched her shoulder to ask if everything was okay and Sue tearfully said, "No."

Then, she tried her best to apologize as tears flowed down her cheeks. The lady with a soft southern accent asked if there was anything she could do, but Sue simply said, "No. I'm sorry, I'm okay." But Sue wasn’t okay. She was terrified. Her heart was pounding and felt like it was about to burst. Finally, the bus driver bound for Memphis opened the door and announced they were ready to board. One by one he greeted passengers, checked their ticket and tore off his portion and pointed to the bus door.

Sue chose a window seat four rows behind the bus driver. She reclined her seat just a little and tried to get comfortable. She knew sleep would not come easy for her as she sat the bottle of Sprite in the empty seat next to her and opened her purse, checking to make sure her bottle of sleeping pills were there. The bus wasn't packed leaving Tulsa, but she was sure it would be as it stopped at other cities.

She hoped that whoever chose the seat next to her wasn't much for conversation as she looked out the tinted bus window. She was leaving her job, her house, everything she owned behind and she wasn't coming back. Nothing would ever make her return to Tulsa. When the bus pulled into Wichita, Kansas, the driver told them that they’d have a 20 minute lay over and to remember bus #2345 and to listen for the re-boarding announcement.

Like other passengers, she used the restroom and grabbed something to snack on. She stood in line with the others and re-boarded the bus. As other passenger’s boarded, one in particular, was an unshaven man in his 60's that smelled like he needed a bath. He hesitated a moment looking at the seat next to her, before continuing down the aisle. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw a small blonde haired girl about 10 come down the aisle.

She was alone and looking a little worried until she saw Sue. She gave a shy smile and asked if she could sit next to her. Sue motioned for her to sit down and two smiles were shared. Her name was Debra. She was nine, but tall for her age and going to the next town to meet her mother, she said. "I get to spend the weekend with my dad twice a month and it's time for me to go back to momma." she said with a smile.

Debra was just what Sue needed to calm down and be distracted from what she was running from. They chatted about the things little girls think about and they laughed. Then, she saw Debra’s smile suddenly fade. Her eyes held tears and Sue asked her what was wrong. Debra’s hand was touching the Sue’s shoulder as she spoke. "He knows you left Tulsa. He knows where you’re going and he's coming for you." she said. Then the little girl looked nervously back towards the restroom at the rear of the bus.

Terror filled her Sue’s eyes as she peeked over the head rest of the seat but saw no nothing unusual. Then, suddenly, the child vanished. Sue was gasping for a breath. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she screamed, "Oh my God!" Startled passengers were looking at her as well as the driver who looked up at his mirror as a man nearby asked if she was okay.

Frantically she asked him if he had seen the little girl in the seat next to her and he gave her a shocked look. “Miss, no one's sat next to you since you got on the bus in Tulsa." he said in a confused voice. Her chest was compressed with fear and it was all she could do to breathe. "It" was following her. It knew where she was going and it was coming for her.

She was unaware of the frightened and concerned glances from passenger to passenger that thought she had psychological problems and how right they were. It was rush hour on the freeway. Lines of cars were backed up as the Greyhound bus came to a halt. Sue was reaching the brink of hysteria as she made her way to the front of the bus and told the driver she had to get off the bus now.

But he just shook his head no and asked her to return to her seat until he made the next scheduled stop. Sue looked back into the puzzled eyes of other passengers. Then she grabbed the bus door handle and pulled the door open. She ran down the steps, falling and skinning both knees as she got to her feet and began running down the freeway emergency parking lane.

Then the driver saw her stop suddenly as if she had seen a ghost. What she had seen was far worse and menacing then a ghost. Standing ahead of her about 12 feet was the demon, which had killed so many people. Sue was slowly backing up now and the bus driver, people in their cars and trucks saw no one but Sue. The demon stood over six feet tall with claw like hands and blue skin. It wore a velvet cloak and was hunched forward slightly. It had fangs and its teeth were rotting in places.

She could smell the scent of death. The same smell that was coming from the basement door. She turned and faced the bus, eight car lengths away from her with a look in her eyes that the bus driver will never forget. The expression on Sue’s face was one of despair and sheer helplessness. Suddenly, he saw her lifted off the ground by unseen hands and as she screamed in agony, claws dug across her throat and shoulders as she kicked her feet in the air.

Bright red blood squirted down her blouse and neck as she dangled mid-air trying to get away, to reach the ground, until she moved no more. Then her body was tossed through the air effortlessly, landing on a blue Camaro's hood and smashing the windshield as the driver in her 70's screamed. Sue's attempt to get away, to forget, to leave death behind had failed as others got out of their vehicle's to see if they could give first aid.

Meanwhile, when Detective David sat down at his desk the next morning, he found a copy of a fax from the Kansas State Police, with the name Sue McCaffe circled with a black felt tip marker. Below that was a Detective's name and number, along with the message, "Victim murdered by unknown assailant on the freeway." He picked up the phone and called Detective Jennings, but he wasn’t at his desk.

He sent a fax back asking for a set of photos of the deceased. Those photos came back to him within an hour. As he looked at the eight photos, he shook my head in disbelief. Detective David understood now, why the swat team hadn’t encountered the demonic spirit. He had been pursuing Sue on her way to Montana. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Only three people were left who had been in that house.

The hair was standing up on the back of his neck as he realized that they were in danger too. He also realized that leaving town would do them no good. So there was only one thing left for him to do. He called Father Janovich at his church. The phone rang twice and to his relief, he heard his smiling voice. "Father Janovich, this is Detective David. I attend mass at your church."

The priest paused for just a second and David heard him tell him it was good to hear his voice. Then he said in a concerned voice, "Yet, I sense something is bothering you detective, am I correct?" he asked. Detective David told the priest he was working on a very unusual murder case and would like his help. "My help?” he asked. “How can I possibly help?" Father Janovich asked. David asked him if he could meet him at his office today. He said sure and that after one pm would be fine.

David told him he would stop by at one. Prior to heading out to meet with Father Janovich, David met with the chief and told him everything that he knew and asked that an officer be stationed outside the room of the witness at the hospital psychiatric ward and a surveillance team on the other two. When the chief asked why, David showed him the murdered pictures of Sue McCaffe. He also showed him the photos of John Appleton, the Jacobson family as well as the claw marks on the basement door.

David told him as bizarre as it sounded that he believed something evil lurked in the basement of the house on Larch lane and was free now. He told the chief he was working on a theory, but had some research to do first. He asked David if it wasn’t a safer idea to place the three witnesses in protective custody at a safe house, rather than three different locations and David agreed. A few minutes before one, David arrived at Father Janovich's office and the church secretary let him know he had arrived.

When David entered the priest’s office, he stood up and told David it was good to see him and asked him how he could help him. David told him with nervousness, "Father, I know you must be aware of the recent murders on Larch Lane and the accidental shootings of several of the swat team officers?” and he nodded. After David sat down, he took a deep breath and said as calmly as I could, "Father, I believe there is a demonic spirit in that house."

There, he had said it. He said what he believed could not be possible, yet saw no other possible explanation. David showed him the victim photos, the claw marks on the door and read witness statements to him as he listened. There was a long silence after David had finished and he wondered what the priest was thinking. "Detective David, can you take me too this house where the murders occurred?" the priest asked.

Now it was David who remained silent as he pondered not only the danger to himself, but to Father Janovich. David vaguely remembered watching the movie, poltergeist on TV and knew that the danger to both of them was very real. When he spoke, it was with hesitation as he agreed under one condition. "You must agree that if I tell you to run father that you will run as if the devil himself was after your soul." David said.

Father Janovich told the detective he had no plans to die just yet with a chuckle and reassured David that if there was a clear danger, that he would leave the house. "When would you like me to go with you Detective?" he asked. David asked what his schedule was and he said "I'm free right now." and David said that would be perfect. The priest asked David if he would wait a few minutes. “There’s a matter I need to attend to before we go. Father Janovich said and David shook his hand and thanked him.

"Don't thank me so fast Detective. I haven't done anything yet.” he said with nervousness in his eyes. David waited outside his office and paced as the secretary watched curiously, wondering why he hadn't just taken a chair. David politely smiled at her a time or two as the minutes passed until finally, he heard the door knob turn and Father Janovich came out with bible in his hand.

"I'll be gone for a while, Sherry. I'm not sure how long. If it’s an emergency you can page me.” he told the woman. “Yes Father.” she said with a smile. Once out in the parking lot, David asked him if he wanted to ride in his car or his own car. "Yours is fine Detective. Saves me gas." he said with a grin and both men laughed. That touch of humor was needed at that moment. Father Janovich saw concern in David’s eyes and he was sure he saw concern in his eyes.

On their way over to Larch Lane, David wondered what they might encounter there. He also wondered what Father Janovich was thinking. Had he faced something like this before? Would he be able to help? Or David thought in a panic, would he run and tell me he was afraid. A dozen other questions raced through his mind the closer they got to Larch Lane. David glanced from time to time at Father Janovich's face looking for a clue, but he showed no expression.

When they arrived, David parked and looked at the house. The front door was shut with yellow do not enter tape across the door and porch. There was also a small girl with shoulder length blonde hair standing in front of the door. She wore a blue dress and she looked sad. Then, before either of them could get out of the car, she turned and walked right through the tape and closed door. When David looked at Father Janovich and he looked back at him the priest spoke. "Well, let's go find her."

He was taking it much better than David was because he had never seen a ghost before. When they reached the porch they ducked under the tape and David examined the tape across the door frame. No one had broken the tape since the swat team had left. David pulled the tape away and unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly, but stayed outside on the porch. This was one time David was taking nothing for granted.

As his eyes got accustomed to the dim light, there she was, standing by the basement door with her hands clasped together. The priest nudged David’s shoulder and in a soft compassioned voice asked, "Well, don't you think we should go in?" he asked. David replied, “Something horrible is in this house father, many people have died. If I tell you to run, please, please run." David saw Father Janovich had his bible in his left hand and nodded for us to go in.

They both stopped perhaps six feet from the ghost of the child they had seen on the porch and she was the first to speak. "He knew you would come back with a priest. He told me. What do you want Father?" the child asked. Father Janovich asked her name and she replied, "My name isn’t important, but why you are here is, isn't it priest?" The little girl and Father Janovich talked back and forth for several minutes and David could see he was trying to seek the answers to the questions in his mind.

But the child spirit was smart, evasive, never moving an inch, not even her hands. Then a light grey smoke, or rather, a mist began to seep up from the basement, lingering inches off the floor, but not rising. Instinctively, David reached to his waist and pulled out his revolver. She smiled at him and her eyes held a laughter, like when a bully was about to beat a smaller boy.

"You don't need a gun." she said, and invisible hands knocked the gun from the detective’s hand. Then David was pushed up against a wall so tight he could barely breathe as the priest looked at him and then back at the girl. By now the mist was surrounding the girl as Father Jovanovich held his bible in front of him with both hands close to his chest. Then he recited a passage he had memorized.

The little girl patiently waited until he was finished, though the priest felt she could have taken his bible away from him as easily as she did David’s gun. Sweat was pouring down his face, yet the house was cool inside. Then Father Janovich reached into his pocket, removed the cap off a small bottle of Holy water and splashed it across the girl’s body with no affect. She merely smiled back at him and said "You look surprised priest!

I’m not a demon. Your words and Holy water cannot harm me. If your faith is strong come with me into the basement, because there are things you must know. Things you must see for yourself. Is your faith that strong?" she asked, as she looked up into the priests eyes. David was helpless to break free. Helpless to speak as Father Janovich looked into his eyes with calmness and told him he had to go with her and that God would protect him.

She smiled into the eyes of Father Jovanovich and held out her hand and he took her hand as he stood next to her. Father Jovanovich flipped the basement light switch on and surprisingly, the light came on. David couldn't turn his head, but he saw the light shining on the wall to the left of him. He knew that the light switch had not worked before. Together the priest and child’s spirit walked down the blood stained steps to the basement.

As the child led him down the steps, the priest recited the Lord's Prayer silently in his mind. When they had both reached the basement floor, she turned and looked up into his eyes. "Does it give you comfort, reciting the Lord’s Prayer priest?" she asked curiously. The look on Father Jovanovich's face was one of surprise and all that he could say back was, "Yes it does my child." She thought for a moment, nodded and then pointed with her hand and said, "Come with me. I want to show you something."

In a moment, they were standing at the northwest corner of the basement facing a brick wall. With one finger she pointed to the wall. "Behind this wall is where ‘he’ buried me after he brought me here and killed me. He was a mean hateful man, a bully and the police never found my body and he went free. One night my daddy followed the man to this house and pleaded with him to let me go but he only laughed.

Then they fought and suddenly the man who killed me was lying on the floor dead too. But like me, his spirit lingers and he is so angry that he gave his soul to the devil. He is coming for you priest. He told me so. But first, he three people who were in this house will die. I’m telling you this hoping you can stop him in exchange for freeing my soul.

You must find my body before darkness comes and you will be safe. Bury me on sacred ground. Only then will I be at peace at last. He draws strength from my anguished tears and that is his only weakness. I do not know if you can defeat him, but you must try, for you and for the others. He will never stop killing. He can take any shape and no where can you hide. You must go now, there isn't much time left before he returns. Will you help me priest?" she asked.

Father Jovanovich wished he could have told her he was unafraid, but he was trembling as he said, "Yes, I will bury you on sacred ground before the sun has set." She smiled as tears flowed down her cheeks and she hugged him and then vanished. At the same instant she vanished, David fell to the floor, exhausted, gasping for the first full breath of air. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and frantically looked for his gun. Then, to his relief, he saw Father Jovanovich.

In a moment he was helping David to his feet and Father Jovanovich saw the gun on the floor by the end table. He reached down and picked it up and handed it back to him. "We have to leave now. We have much to do before sunset. My life and the others who were in this house depend on what we are about to do." he told David nervously. As they reached the front porch, they both squinted at the bright light as they made their way to David’s unmarked car.

When they got ready to leave, David asked the priest, "What are we about to do?" With worry in his voice, he replied, “Detective David, there are times when you must set aside what you’ve been trained to do. To do something you know must be done, not because it follows procedure, but because it protects life. I need your help and together, yes together we have a chance to save four lives, one of them being mine." he said.

"What have you got in mind Father? What did she tell you?" David asked. Father Jovanovich continued, "The little girl was murdered in that basement and the man who killed her was also killed in this house. But the evilness in him, the bitterness, deceit, and anger lives on thru Satan. It will take all my faith in Jesus, the Lord and Holy Spirit, to defeat him. You alone Detective David will be helpless against him.

She didn’t say you will die, but she told me, "He will come for me. We need to drive back to the church. I need a pick and a shovel. I must bury her body on holy ground before the sun sets this day. He will not have as much strength without her soul. I know your training tells you that there should be an autopsy, a morgue, a funeral home, a burial with relatives and friends, but there is no time detective.

The other three people that were in the house are in danger and I’m in danger. I won’t ask you to help me, but I will ask you not to stop me, my son." Father Janovich said. David didn't need to think about what he should do, to choose between right and wrong. "Two can dig faster than one Father, so we'll need two shovels." he told the priest and David saw relief shine in his eyes.

When they returned to the church, Father Janovich went straight to the garden shed, grabbed a pick, a tarp and two shovels and got back in David’s car. Once back at the house on Larch Lane, he took the shovels and David took the pick and tarp from the trunk. He showed David the spot to dig and together they felt blisters form on their hands in the dimness of their flashlights. Within an hour, David’s pick broke through the brick wall and they began to dig to uncover the child’s body. They dug faster and carefully placed all of her bones on the tarp.

It was then that they heard the little girl's voice coming from behind them at the bottom of the stairway. As they looked behind them, they saw her smiling, but nervously saying, "Thank you both but you must hurry. You don't have much time left.” and she disappeared. Quickly they put her body in the trunk. Detective David drove over to The Compton County Cemetery. It was getting late but the sun was still shining when he drove through the double gate.

David stopped and asked him where he wanted him to drive and the priest pointed to an open area near other headstones. Together they carried both shovels and the tarp and sat them on the green grass. They dug and dug until Father Jovanovich told him to stop. Father Janovich took off his crucifix necklace and placed it on the child's body. Then he opened his bottle of Holy water and poured what was left on her remains as he spoke a prayer.

“Oh Lord, we beseech you to take this child into your loving arms and protect her from all evil and send your angels to guide and protect those who are in danger now, Amen.” Father Jovanovich wiped his brow, nodded at David and they filled the grave. Suddenly the little girl appeared before them. A beautiful glow surrounded her as she ran to the priest and hugged him.

Then she stepped back, waved to him and vanished. Father Jovanovich looked over to David with tear filled eyes and saw he too had tears in his eyes. Quickly, Father Jovanovich had David drive him back to the church. He said he wanted to give him something that might offer protection. But David was more concerned with how to protect the priest and the other three people who were in danger.

It was dark by the time Father Jovanovich and David got back to the church. As they began to cross the church parking lot, it was deathly silent. No wind and no noise of any kind. David felt like someone or something was watching them. He had never felt such a fear, a fear of the unknown before. As they began walking up the church steps, Father Jovanovich suddenly stopped and David bumped into him.

When Father Janovich turned around and faced David, it wasn’t Father Jovanovich David saw. The face he saw was evil, with contorted eyes glowing a fiery red as he began to smile. He smiled that sort of smile, like he was amused. Then David felt the priest’s right hand knock him backwards and he flew thru the air, and hit the concrete hard. David cried out in pain, struggling to get his arm free from under his back.

As he looked up, whatever had taken possession of the priest was walking down the steps toward him, with confident, calculated steps. He knew that a demon had taken control of Father Jovanovich. He knew he was the next to die. David wanted to run, to flee for his life, but he couldn't even make it to his feet, before it was standing over him. David couldn’t even reach his gun. It was on his other side and he cried out as he was lifted off the ground effortlessly and tossed against the wall of the church.

But instead of falling to the ground, he was held by invisible hands. He could feel them as they gripped his shoulders like that of a 300 pound weight lifter. He was helpless as he watched the demon leave the body of the priest, who then fell to his knees. The demon was changing his shape, changing into something horrible as a smoke or fog surrounded his form.

Within several minutes, the fog retreated into the darkness and there before David stood a creature that defied description. It resembled a man, yet it wasn't. It was a form of animal, but unlike anything from this world. It wore a velvet cloak. Its legs and hands were clawed and its huge head was deformed. Its breath had the stench of death and smoke left its mouth. As it stood before David it said nothing.

It was as if it was studying David, reading his thoughts. Then with a swipe of its hand, a movement so fast, David never saw it coming, four claws dug across his chest. David groaned as he felt warm blood flowing down his chest. It was only then, when he looked downward, that he saw that his feet weren't touching the ground. Then he heard the voice of Father Jovanovich speaking in a weak voice in Latin.

David couldn’t understand what he was saying, but suddenly he fell to the ground with a thud and the demon was gone. David was totally drained and exhausted as Father Jovanovich crawled to where he lay. "Time is short my son, for you and for me. It may already be too late to save the others I mentioned to you before." he said. David told Father Jovanovich they needed to go to the police station to warn the others at the safe house but the priest shook his head no as he struggled to help him to his feet.

"I must get you inside and tend to your wounds detective. I must prepare you to meet the demon, before he returns. I need you to try to stand up my friend. If you want to live come with me." he said in a frightened voice. As he helped David to his feet, he walked toward the church steps, like a drunk, weaving left and right as David desperately grabbed for the hand rail. Once inside, the priest led him to his office and went to his closet after laying him on the floor.

He brought some towels and a large first aid kit and opened David’s blood stained shirt. Five deep claw slices were seen across his chest. Not deep enough to kill him, but damn. The cuts stung like fire to David as Father Janovich cleaned them with alcohol. Once his chest was bandaged, Father Jovanovich As carefully put David’s right arm in a make shift sling. He told him he had to leave him for a few minutes to find a special book.

A book that might save their lives. He went to a desk drawer and returned with a silver crucifix and placed it in David’s good hand. He quickly left the room and all David could do was lay still. It was a moment when fear raced thru his mind. Fear of the impossible, the unknown and the unreal. Yet this was no dream. This was real. David could feel his heart racing worryied he would die right there.

He was worried the demon would return and finish what he had started. It seemed like hours that Father Jovanovich was gone though David knew it wasn't. But when you’re terrified, time seems to stop, at least that is how it felt to David. Finally, he heard footsteps approaching and there was a look of relief on David’s face when he saw Father Jovanovich in the doorway.

... Continued

[Ghostwriter1983]

There was still that anguished look of fear in his eyes, but David also saw a glint of hope. In his hand he held a large very old looking book. The priest knelt down and checked David’s chest bandage, patted him gently on his good shoulder and said, "We've got a lot of work to do in a very short time my friend." The priest helped David to his feet and to a chair before he sat down at his desk and began to flip the pages impatiently.

As David sat in the chair, it was all he could do to focus on the pain in his chest and left arm. Surprisingly as he looked at the shape he was in, he would have expected himself to be screaming in agony. But the pain wasn’t that severe. David thought his fear was suppressing what he was feeling; knowing something more critical was at stake.

Then he looked over and saw the priest bringing him some pain medicine and a glass of water. David took the pills quickly. "I know you think I’m crazy detective, but I must go back to Larch Lane, to the basement again. I must confront this demon before he can become stronger. I can’t hide from him any more then you can. I’ll drop you off at the hospital emergency room first though, may God and his glory protect you." he said.

It hurt to take a deep breath, but as David did he spoke. “Father, there isn't much time left, you said so yourself. I don't want to die somewhere, alone and torn to pieces. I’ll see this thru to the end even if it means facing something my mind shouts can't exist. When you’re ready to leave, just help me into the car. We'll face it together." he said. Though David saw the priest smile, he saw also a terrified fear in the priest's eyes.

Father Janovich returned to his desk and anxiously thumbed thru pages as David closed his eyes. David didn't realize he had fallen asleep or perhaps it was the medicine Father Janovich gave him, but when he woke up, oh my God, his chest hurt. David’s chest wasn’t bleeding. The wounds had sealed themselves and were tightening his chest muscles. Father Janovich was still looking at his book and his eyes seemed very tired as David watched him writing things down.

He wrote things down first on one paper and then on a second piece of paper. He glanced up and saw David had awakened and nodded. He gave him a small smile, a smile that was more plastic, then genuine. David knew he was terrified, as terrified as him. Another hour or so passed in silence, until David heard the sound of the book the priest had been reading close and he released a deep breath.

When he spoke, his voice was shaky, not one of confidence. "My friend, since I became a priest, I pledged my life to the work of the Lord, knowing that one day, I might have to face Satan, himself. It isn't something I’ve dwelled upon, just always known that I serve the Lord and that his will be done, in all he reveals to me." he said. With that he stood and gathered the two sets of papers and picked up his bible, before then walking over to David’s side.

Carefully he helped David to his feet and they headed for the parking lot. David felt it once more, a deathly quiet in the air. He couldn't hear a single sound. It was if there was no one in the world left but the priest and himself. After he helped David into the passenger front seat and closed the door, the priest pulled onto the street. David saw that they were going north, away from Larch Lane, not towards it and he looked over at the priest confused.

"Relax my friend. I know where I’m headed. I must stop off and visit a friend a few moments, before we head for Larch Lane." he said as he smiled. His eyes now showed no fear. They were bright and he had a smile on his face. David wondered how real his smile was. Was he smiling to reassure and comfort him or was he trying to build courage for what he was about to be face? David knew in a very short time he would know the answers to that and all his other questions as he tried to get comfortable.

As they made left and right turns, David realized even in the darkness of the night where they were headed. They were returning to the cemetery where they had buried the little girl's bones. At first, David thought they were going there to try to save their own lives by staying in the cemetery. But then David remembered Father Janovich had told him they were going to Larch Lane, just stopping somewhere first.

What was he going to do at the cemetery David thought? What strength could he find there to face a battle? A battle he was sure would end in their deaths? Since becoming a cop, David had accepted that one day some criminal would shoot him on or off duty. It comes with the territory. He knew that by following his instincts, training and being alert was his best chance to see each shift thru.

But how could he be trained for this? Confronting something so evil that he can't run from it even to another state? Something that was powerful enough to enter people's bodies and possess incredible strength? David’s mind had a lot to contemplate and he had no answer's that would give him reassurance that he was going to see tomorrow's sunrise. But what he was doing now was to him something he could accept easier then to hide and be hunted down by an unearthly demonic spirit.

Perhaps in David’s final moments, it would be him who smiled, not a demon. Just then, David became aware that father Janovich had parked outside the cemetery gate. The priest got out, but not before taking one set of papers with him. The second set he placed inside his bible. He leaned down nervously at David and spoke in a comforting voice to him. "My son from this moment on, have faith. Believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ, because he loves you and will protect you."

He looked outside once more nervously before speaking again. “Whatever happens once I enter the cemetery, don’t leave this car. If you have to, scoot over and speed away. Drive as fast and far away as you can. If all goes well, I will come back to you and we’ll drive to Larch Lane and do what must be done. God Bless you!” he said. David watched him shut the driver's door and open one of the two tall wrought iron gates to the cemetery as he nervously watched.

David didn't know which of them were more scared at that moment, him sitting alone in the darkness of his car or Father Janovich making his way through the cemetery. Father Janovich had a general idea of where he was, but due to the poor light and distance it took him longer to find the child’s grave. All David could do was anxiously wait. He used his good hand to support his arm as he felt the painful burning on his chest.

David came to the conclusion that once they reached Larch Lane, he wouldn't need to worry about pain meds anymore. He recalled the look on Father Janovich's face and the look in his eyes. He was scared. Whatever he found in that book, well, it didn't seem to boost his self-confidence. David wondered what he was doing at the grave of the little girl. Had he forgotten to say a prayer or something?

Did he expect to see her one last time? Or had he left something behind? The minutes passed all too slowly for David, not that he was in a hurry to die. At that moment David felt absolutely alone. Finally, Father Janovich walked out of the shadows of darkness, into the light, closed the gates and got back in the car. He took a deep breath, a tired breath and David wished he hadn’t gotten him involved.

But the priest turned to David as if he had read his mind. He put his hand gently on his shoulder gently and said, "My friend, I know what you’re thinking. Let me tell you something. This to me is God's greatest test in my faith and of my love for him. Whatever the outcome, I know he’ll watch over both of us." he said as he turned the key and started the car, put it in reverse and headed for Larch Lane.

David wished he could’ve read the priest’s mind or perhaps it was better that he couldn't. David can't describe what was going through his mind as his body shook the closer they got to the Larch Lane. David had never run away from anything before and he couldn't leave Father Jovanovich to face this alone. As they got closer, scenes from all the scary movies he had seen in his youth flashed before David.

Did all those priests really win or was it all make believe? As they turned onto Larch Lane they were just a few blocks away when David watched Father Janovich pull over to the curb and park. He looked at David with kindness and spoke in a soft, comforting voice. "My son, this isn’t your destiny, it’s mine. I can walk the rest of the way and do what must be done. Drive yourself to the hospital.

Let them help you and you can check on the others you spoke of too. Let them patch you up and then leave this place. Drive as far away from here as you can." the priest said. When David began to speak, they both knew that he couldn't drive away. David couldn't let the priest face the evilness that so easily killed so many. He knew he couldn’t run. David knew he couldn’t hide. "I know you mean well Father, but I dragged you into this nightmare and we’ll face it together." David said.

Then David asked him what his plan was. “Plan?” the priest said, as he began to laugh. "I have no plan.” Then there was a moment of silence. "Once we walk down into that basement, nothing may happen, my friend. On the other hand.” he said, as he paused and took a deep breath. “The demon may run the show. He’s very powerful as you yourself have seen. I guess there’s only one way for us to find out how this will end.” he said."

With that said, he opened his door and stepped out. Then he leaned down and picked up his bible off the seat and went to David’s side of the car and helped him get out. The street was dark and the street lights did little to make the darkness retreat. In a few minutes they were staring at the front door of 925 Larch Lane. There was no wind at that moment, no one walking their dogs and no passing cars.

There was only a deathly silence. Father Janovich held his bible in one hand and a heavy gold crucifix chain in his other hand. David’s gun was on his left side far from his reach. He knew it wouldn't do him any good against a demon anyway. It was then that David tapped the priest's shoulder and he jumped. "Sorry to startle you Father but how do you want to enter the house? Do we enter from the front or back door?" David asked.

He looked at David in an almost comical way and said, "If the demon is near, he will let us in. He isn’t afraid." That was the last thing David wanted to hear at that moment. The priest waved his hand for David to follow him as he headed for the front porch. When they reached the steps, with each step they took, David heard the boards squeak. Father Jovanovich looked at David and then to the door.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. The door opened slowly and David could feel his heart pounding. He felt sweat running down his face too. Father Janovich led the way and David followed close behind. Suddenly, David realized that the power was out in the basement and he whispered, "Wait! Let me go back to my car and get a flashlight." David watched Father Janovich pull a flashlight from his pocket as he whispered, "I already thought of that.

I'm one step ahead of you detective." As they stood in front of the basement steps, David could see the basement door was no longer on its hinges. The hinges themselves had been torn from the door frame. Father Janovich's shaky hand reached inside and flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. As the priest shone the beam of his flashlight on the blood stained steps, the memories of David’s fellow officers who had died haunted him.

Father Jovanovich looked at him and whispered, "It's time to walk down these steps my friend." As the priest was about to begin to walk slowly down the basement stairs, David heard the distinct sound of growling to his right. It was the sort of sound that made him think he was something's dinner. He quickly looked to his right and peering out of the blackness of the hallway were two sets of red glowing eyes and they were coming closer.

David was frozen with fear. He couldn't walk down the stairs and he knew better then to run. Father Jovanovich heard the sounds too and stepped in front of him. "I don't think whatever it is in the basement wants you to come downstairs detective. Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to wait outside or in the car?" Father Janovich said in a frightened voice. No one had to ask David twice as he began to back up slowly toward the front door. He was worried he might trip over something and be killed right then and there.

When he reached the front door, something lifted him off the ground as if I was a rag doll and he felt himself thrown past the porch and onto the lawn. Then he heard the front door slam shut. When David hit the ground he cried out as his chest wounds broke open and he began to bleed again. David had cradled his injured arm to protect it as he tumbled and rolled. Now it hurt even more.

He lay there on the ground trying to catch his breath. He was dazed and it took him a few minutes, but he managed to get back on his feet. Obviously the demon wanted this fight to be one on one and he could stay outside and await the outcome or run like hell. He chose to stand his ground and wait. As the two demon dogs came closer and closer to Father Jovanovich, he stood his ground and held tightly to his crucifix.

Suddenly the little girl's spirit appeared between him and the dogs. As both dogs lunged at her with jaws open, she held out her hand with her palm facing the dogs. Suddenly there was a bright light that filled the hallway and the dogs disappeared. She turned to Father Jovanovich and smiled as sweat rolled down his cheeks and she offered her hand to him.

“The demon who awaits us downstairs is not as powerful as you think Father. Much of his power came from me. But I’m no longer afraid of him. Together you and I are powerful. He knows this but he still believes he will take your soul. You must not show fear, not even in your eyes, your heart or your mind. He will know it. You know what must be done." the little spirit said as she looked up at the priest. Then she pointed toward the basement steps. Father Jovanovich let go of her hand and reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of holy water.

He blessed the spirit of the little girl in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Then he reached down and took her hand and together they walked down the eight steps. Once they were in the basement the only light was from the priest’s flashlight. Then his flashlight went dead. Father Janovich could hear screams, horrendous growling and he smelled the stench of death, so appalling to the senses that he wanted to vomit.

Then Father Jovanovich shouted, "If you’re so powerful why do you hide in the darkness?" Suddenly all the noises stopped. The basement lights came on and in the far corner stood a man in his 30's, wearing jeans, black tennis shoes and a green shirt. He had long shoulder length greasy black hair. His nose was distorted as if it had once been broken. His beard was black, unkempt and his eyes sunken. He was smiling with both of his hands on his hips.

"So priest, you’ve come here to send me back to hell?" the demon shouted as he began to laugh. As far away as they stood from each other, his breath smelled horrible. The little girl tugged on Father Jovanovich's arm and whispered, "He’s the one who killed me and the demon hides within him." Father Janovich looked down at the child spirit and nodded. “If you’re such a powerful demon, why are you afraid to show yourself to me as you really are?

“Is the spirit of a dead man from more powerful then you are? Show yourself, I command it!” Father Janovich shouted. The priest had provoked the demon's anger indeed and the spirit of the killer vanished. As suddenly as the man disappeared, the demon took his place. This was the first time the priest had seen an actual demon and what was worse, he would have to fight him, to save his soul as well as the souls of others.

The demon stood close to seven feet tall, with grotesque arms that ended in claws. He wore a velvet cloak, but was neither man nor beast, yet part of each. A sinister white fog was forming at his feet, turning smoky gray and then a dull black. It didn’t spread nor fade away. It just lingered. He glared at the priest and then saw the little girl. His voice thundered, "You! You are mine to command, not his. Come to me now!”

But she shook her head no, gripping the priests hand tighter. She shouted, "My power is no longer yours, demon, it belongs to this priest who will destroy you!" Suddenly, with the wave of the demon’s hand, a bolt of fire raced directly at both of them, but she raised her hand also and a glowing wall surrounded both her and Father Jovanovich. Flames circled both of them yet they were unharmed.

When the flames were gone the demon shouted, "This fight is not yours child, it’s Evil against good, be gone!” but she shook her head no again. The walls thundered from his voice so loud, David could hear it from where he lay in the front yard. "What will you trade for the souls I’ve not yet taken priest? Will you give me your soul?" he asked with a snide smile. The time had come for Father Jovanovich to do what he had come to do, to send the demon back to the underworld if he could.

Father Janovich had spoken to the girl's spirit when he was at the cemetery. The priest had given to her the same papers, he had committed to memory. It was his only hope along with his prayer to God, that together they would be powerful enough to send the demon back to his world, forever. In unison, the little girl and the priest began to speak. "Lord Jesus, I belong to you.

You have saved me and redeemed me by your blood. Give us strength to defeat the demon before us now. I renounce and separate myself from all familiar spirits, however acquired. We call upon you, Lord, to deliver us from evil and to protect us with your angels. We renounce you Satan and all you stand for. You do not belong in this world. By the power of the Father, the Son and The Holy Ghost I command you to be gone and to never return, Amen!"

As the last words were spoken, the demon rushed towards the priest and little girl, his arms outstretched, his claws open, his voice snarling and smoke leaving his mouth. Father Jovanovich held up his gold crucifix before the demon and in those last few inches the demon vanished and the blackish smoke faded away. There was a deathly silence in that basement now. Father Jovanovich was unaware that his face had been blistered by the demon.

As he kneeled down beside the little girl, her hand brushed his cheeks and the blisters were gone. "Father." she said with a childish excitement, “You and I sent the demon away. He will not return." The priest hugged the girl's spirit and kissed her cheek. Then he saw sadness in her eyes as she whispered, “It's time for me to go now. I’m so glad you asked me to help.”

Father Jovanovich said in a soft comforting voice, "God loves you very much." and he watched her wave goodbye and disappear. When David saw the front door open and the priest step out and wave, he was relieved. Father Janovich didn't know what to say or how to say it as he approached David and told him the demon was gone. David had a million questions and Father Jovanovich had to finally tell him to stop talking. "Relax my son I will tell you everything on the way to the emergency room." the priest said as he helped David back to his car.

©2004 Raymond Cook (All rights reserved)