Unexpected Reality: Book 1: Gamer Girl Page 21

  A small skinny shape emerged slowly from the door. It had long sinewy fingers on the end of slender arms and hands. Abi couldn’t comprehend exactly what she saw, but she thought the thing looked like a shadow of something deformed that found a life of its own. Two glowing red eyes burned through the darkness from where its head should have been. The figure began to move towards Abigail making dreadful sounds of rats scurrying across the floor with a deep guttural moan emanating from its core. Abigail frantically turned her door handle when a dark hand reached out to grab her. She screamed in panic as her door finally opened. She fell through the doorway and it slammed shut behind her.

  Downstairs, Augustina had heard her child scream. Her eyes popped open and turned towards the stairs. Looking upwards, she could swear she saw Abigail launch towards her bedroom door.

  Augustina's eyes looked back towards the table where a strange young girl sat with her legs crossed. The girl had on a crinoline dress, her skin was mottled almost corpse-like. Her dark hair matched her dark, jet-black eyes; but it was her lips that drew Augustina's attention. They were ruby red, chapped and twisted into a daunting painful smile.

  The child turned towards Augustina and tilted her head slightly. 'Little Abi and I will have so much fun when you're gone!' A beastly laugh came from her mouth accompanied by the smell of rotted flesh. Augustina's eyes widened as the girl smiled openly. A small cockroach crawled from her mouth. 'Oh, yes. We'll have so much fun!'

  'Do not listen to it! The demon lies! It uses your fears against you! It has no power if we stay linked!' Beth shouted with her eyes still shut.

  A second scream came from upstairs, finally putting an end to the union. Augustina pulled away from the circle and began to run towards the door to get to her daughter.

  'No!' shouted Beth, her eyes popped open.

  'Yes!' came the voice from the twisted child on the table. Her voice much deeper and stronger than that of her size. The child made a gesture with her hand that pulled Augustina back to the table as if she were attached to a string. Her body violently smashed into the circle, knocking over a few candles. Alexandru let go of Rodica's hand to reach out and grab his wife. The twisted child laughed again and the living room door slammed shut.

  Upstairs, Abigail could hear the screams coming from the living room. Her mother’s initial cry for help had turned to pain. Abi ran to her door, fuelled by determination to help her mum, but the handle to the door wouldn't budge. It seemed that whatever locked her out the first time was now locking her in.

  She pounded on the door. 'Mamica! Mamica!'

  A loud crashing sound followed by demonic laughter came from downstairs. The laughter sounded like a cat trying to mimic a human voice. Abigail tried her door one last time and this time, it opened. She ran downstairs, her toy still in her hand. When she saw that the living room door was closed, she grabbed the handle. It was ice cold. With a yank, she opened the door.

  For the third time that night, Abi screamed.

  Chapter 7

  Father John Andrew stood on the landing of a suburban house and removed his hat. With marble tables, porcelain figurines and ornate gold-framed oil paintings, the place very much gave the impression of a wealthy family. The room had a very warm feel to it. Close-by, one could hear groans and moans. Someone was in pain. Doors to the left abruptly opened and an elderly Nun came out hurriedly. She was carrying what looked like a kidney tray, gauss and some soiled linen. She glanced briefly at him, and dipped her head, then excused her way out of the room with haste. John watched her as she went, entering another room and closing the door behind her.

  'Are you sure you want this one, John? We would understand if otherwise' the Cardinal said.

  'Huh? 'John turned to the voice and was jolted back to his senses by a man who seemed to have an air of senior rank to him.

  'My life is in the Church. God is the Light from which all darkness must shy away from. A child of God needs me here.'

  'Yes, but your mother needs you there. We wouldn't think any less of you if you went to her. I can perform the exorcism alone if need be.' The Cardinal said as he walked over to Father Andrew.

  'Thank you, but I must not give way to things that will cloud my mind.' Father Andrew responded.

  'How can one’s mother being on her death bed not cloud one’s mind, my son? It's perfectly normal for you to...'

  'Cardinal MacNally’, Father Andrew cut in. ‘I have my mission here. The Lord comes first. He always has in my walk. This is a vocation I did not choose lightly'.

  'The Lord says honor thy mother and father, John.'

  John Andrew looked down to the ground, then back to the Cardinal. ‘You will need me. You know I'm the one for this.'

  The Cardinal sighed, nodding his head. He could see there was no use continuing with his persuasive tactics any further when it was clear now that John felt an obligation. Well, that’s what he felt. Anyone who knew him knew that was the end of the conversation.

  'Very well.' Cardinal McNally paused, as though he was thoughtfully considering something and then slowly, he spoke.

  'You are right. I could use your help. The truth is, I am a bit rusty with this end of the faith. Exorcisms? Between you and me, I used to think they were things of legends, mere ghost tales to keep the flock in line.' He chuckled a little, shaking his head. John did not. He didn’t find the theatrics a bit funny.

  'I know the stakes'. Father Andrew kissed his sash and placed it around the back of his neck. 'Please, Cardinal, absolve me of my sins so I may face our enemy on firm ground.'

  'Do you have sins to confess, my son?''

  'Don't we all?' John Andrew knelt.

  'Are you sincerely sorry for your sins?'

  John said nothing, but nodded in agreement

  'Then I forgive you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.'

  'Amen.'

  With that word, Father John Andrew rose, walked over and opened the door to the room the Nun emerged from earlier. A stench came through as a great cloud. It weighed the air down. A child's laughter met him at the entry way. He bowed his head and shut the door behind him.

  Chapter 8

  Cold air entered through the front door. The living room was a mixture of people and police tape. A young policewoman sat with a blanket wrapped around Abigail. They sat at the kitchen table, away from the chaos that had taken place earlier in the other room. The policewoman held Abigail and tried to keep her attention away from what was happening in the next room as forensics, plain clothed and uniformed alike, picked through the remains of her slaughtered parents like vultures. She held her toy rabbit tight and pulled it to her face to cry in.

  Detective John Ford entered the front room. He exchanged his usual grin for a puzzled look as he absorbed the grisly crime scene. On the floor in front of him, he could see the bodies of Radica and Iona. Radica’s body was twisted in half. Her head looked out her back and her legs bent against what was left of her knees. Iona's face was frozen in terror. Blood was caked around her eyes.

  Detective Ford walked through the mess trying hard not to get his shoes dirty. He came across a team looking at Beth's body. 'What do we have here, boys?'

  One of the men, a younger recruit, looked up at Ford and proceeded to give details.

  'Damnedest thing this is. It appears the animal took her eyes out and put them into her mouth. See where the jaw is broken here? It looks like someone made her chew her own eyes.'

  'Jesus. Who the hell could do something like this?' Ford looked around and saw Augustine’s body slumped over the sofa. Claw marks were on her face.

  'And we have no witnesses to this? None? Not even a nosey neighbor?'

  'Just the little girl, Gov.' The recruit said, pointing towards the kitchen where Abi was sitting.

  'Christ. That's going to be one messed up girl later on. Imagine finding your family like this? Was she the one who called it in?'

  'No, one of the neighbors. They were complaining of loud scre
ams. A damn noise violation! Though they already gave a statement. Said nothing about anyone coming or going since early evening. Some local boy was the last person seen leaving, but that was some time ago, early evening I recall.'

  'You recall?' John Ford sighs.

  'Well, I want to speak with him. They might have missed something. I've got away with kids. They like me. Get his name from the neighbor if you can and send a car out to his place.'

  The young officer nodded and left the building while talking on his radio receiver. Ford walked over to the table where he found Alexandro’s body. A quick glance told him that the father was the least scarred body. 'Murder? Suicide maybe?' he said to himself.

  He started to pick up a candle and thought better of it. 'Hey, someone get these candles to the lab. There might be prints in the wax.' A uniformed officer came over with a bag and started to tag the candles for evidence.

  Detective Ford sighed, scratched his cheek a bit and then finally turned towards the kitchen. Abigail was being hugged by the young female officer. Ford took his hat off and knelt next to the pair.

  'Hello, poppet. Was there anyone else here? Did you see anyone else?'

  Abigail was silent and kept staring at the floor.

  'Can she understand me?' asked Detective Ford to the female police officer.

  'Sir! Her family is European. Romanian we think. As far as we can figure, she was born here. Name's Abigail, sir.'

  'Abigail, my name's John. John Ford. Can you tell me if anyone else was in the house? It's really important, sweetie.'

  Abigail tried to raise her head to answer, but her gaze shifted into the living room. Her body began to shake as uncontrolled sobs came out. She shook her head and then buried it back into the young officer's arms.

  With a sigh, Ford stood up. 'Best take her away, love. Not doing her much good here. Not in that state at any rate.' Ford leaned into the young officer.

  'This is no place for a woman let alone a young girl.'

  The officer looked at Ford but turned away from his stare. 'Sir!' She got up and took Abigail in her arms to the door, making sure the child's view of the living room was shielded.

  As she exited the house, Ford called out to her.

  'On your way back, fetch us tea, Lucy. No sugar. Thanks'

  Junior Officer Lucy Gibson started to say something and then thought better to keep mute. She turned somewhat frustrated and left the crime scene.

  'Two in mine, Juliet Bravo!' a man called from the living room table. The man chuckled a bit to himself and called out for Ford, 'Guv! You'll want to take a look at this.'

  Detective Ford made his way back towards the front room. 'What you got Mike?'

  'I think I found something in this poor bastard's mouth.' Mike said as he pointed at Alexandro’s mouth.

  Ford edged a bit closer to the body and could barely make out something shoved inside of the mouth.

  'Someone fetch me gloves.'

  'What do you make of this Guv? How does someone overpower a man, his wife and three crones like this? No gun shots heard, no weapons found. Nothing. You think it was a drug thing perhaps? Some sort of cult?'

  'The world's gone to pot, Mike. We'll have to wait for the lab rats to do their thing.'

  An officer came over with a set of gloves for Detective Ford. He put them on and carefully extracted the thing crammed into Alexandro’s mouth. A small bit of paper, carefully rolled was jammed tight. Ford unrolled the paper and had a look at it.

  'Then certain of the vagabond Jews, exorcists, took upon them to call over them which had evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus saying; we adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preached.

  'And there were seven sons of Scarva, a Jew, chief of the priests which did so.

  'And the evil spirit answered and said, Jesus I know and Paul I know; but who are ye?'

  Chapter 9

  Father Andrew made his way slowly to the freshly dug grave. His sister, Judy held the hand of her son, Ned. Ned was wearing a small suit, something John remembered from Ned's First Communion.

  'You missed a good service.' Judy said.

  'I was called elsewhere.'

  'You are always elsewhere. She needed you.'

  John took his hat off. 'It isn't as simple as someone else needed me, truly needed me. Jenni knew what she was getting into.'

  'Jenni was our mum! You abandoned her!' Judy retorted. She looked over at Ned and felt bad for having him see her flare up. She then nudged him to go play.

  'Ned darling, why don't you play a bit by the benches? I want to talk to Uncle John a bit.'

  Ned scampered off with a small toy aeroplane in his hand. He pretended to fly away from the great Red Barron. When he was a bit further away, Judy grabbed her brother's shoulder. She started to say something but couldn't get the words out.

  'Father McKinney said the weather was great and everyone was in a good cheer of sorts. He has that effect on people, you know. That's why I hand picked him...'

  Judy beat her hand against John's shoulder. She tried to keep her voice down, but failed miserably.

  'You chose him? Is that what you tell yourself? You were her son, John! You should have been there, not some stranger! You! Her son!'

  'What do you want me to say, Judy? You want me to say that a part of me is glad she's gone? She turned her back on the Lord with the drink! She wasn't our mother any more, Judy! She fell and rejected the faith. Between the bottle and the pills, she couldn’t even walk to the shops without passing out in the middle of the road! Is that not the truth? A young child who did not make such a choice, needed me! Needed my help?' John's voice was earnest, perhaps even pleading.

  'Oh, now you show emotion! A bit of that would not have gone amiss when she was sick, when she called out for you. You didn't even come when she was hit by that bloody car! I talked to Father McKinney. He was surprised you weren't there too. He said Cardinal MacNelly was sending you home to be with Mum. She paused to catch her breath. 'You could have come home. You could have, couldn't you?'

  John looked at his sister and stared silently. His mouth felt dry. His tongue refuse to move. Not due to effort. It just didn't have the will. He knew once his sister was on the warpath. Things were easier if one kept silent. They just were.

  'You overly pious bastard!' she slapped him. Her eyes welled with tears. 'You could have come home! She died begging, John! Begging! Begging for you to give her Last Rites. None of the other priests thought. tha.' She was interrupted by her own tears and broke into uncontrollable sobs.

  John’s voice was now soft. 'Thought? Thought what?' He put his hand around her in an attempt to console her.

  'Thought...thought she would be abandoned like that. They thought you'd forgive her and perform the rites. You owed her that John. You owed her that! They....they...just waited. Prayed. Waited and prayed. She slipped out of consciousness towards the end John, and nobody....'

  'Judy, I....' John cut in with tears building in his eyes. She pulls away from him forcefully.

  'I don't know you anymore. Don't know who you are.'

  She stopped and looked at him like he was a stranger. 'Who are you John? Who are you? '

  John was lost for words.

  'I don't think even you know.' She turned away.

  'Stay away from me, John. Stay away from me and Ned. As far as I am concerned, you died when Mum did.'

  Judy put her hands into her coat pocket and pulled the coat close to her body. She knelt down and put a kiss on her hand then placed it momentarily on the gravestone. The dirt clung to her slacks, but she didn't care. She walked over to Ned and they started their way towards the cemetery gates. The wind picked up, as if it were a conscious supporter, as though it supported her parting words.

  Father Andrew started to walk towards her. 'Judy.... I....I'm sorry....' But it was too late, his words were lost in the wind.

  Chapter 10

  Paul Moss sat staring at the solicitor across from him. The desk they sat at was slightly worn a
nd aged from use. It held a mound of case files that threatened to come crashing down at any given moment. Charles Latham shifted his spectacles so they rested low on his eagle-line nose. His nose, a gift from his father, looked better with the spectacles resting low than when they rested normally. Latham looked over a document briefly and then at the doctor next to him.

  'Well, Wendy? This is one of yours, right?'

  Doctor Wendy Mitchell adjusted her own glasses and nodded while chewing on the end of her pen.

  'That's the one. Case 39721.'

  ‘She’s been at your facility three months?' Charles enquired. Wendy nodded. Then Latham gave the dossier another cursory glance and signed it before addressing Paul.

  'The girl's a UK citizen' he began. 'Parents escaped some political shit-storm or another in their native country. They sought and were granted asylum status, courtesy of Her Majesty.'

  The solicitor could barely say the words 'Her Majesty' without a tonal sneer, but he continued.

  'Without a surviving relative, the court has granted that the subject, one Miss Abigail Morozov, be made a ward of the state and remain in its care until such time as a suitable family can be found for adoption.' Latham slid the dossier across the desk and towards Paul.

  'You sure she's ready yet? It's only been three months. Three months with the shrink doesn't sound much. I mean, after what's happened. How's her mental state?' Paul asked.

  Doctor Mitchell took the pen out of her mouth long enough to answer Paul’s questions.

  'Abigail is remarkably resilient. She's coped better than any of us could have expected. Of course, with that said, in cases such as this, the likelihood of post-traumatic stress is high. We'll need to keep an eye on her.' Mitchell put the pen back in her mouth and returned Paul an intimidating stare. How dare this cocky social worker question her decisions, she thought.

  Paul sighed and took another scan over the paperwork. The file provided details on a six-year-old girl who was found alone after her family and friends were brutally murdered. The killer was still at large. Paul kept flipping through the papers while trying to avoid looking at any of the photographs. He signed it, then took the carbon copy of the signature sheet from the desk and stood up.