Dead Village (17 page)

CHAPTER 19

Jeremiah drove away from the church, some one hundred yards up the street, and parked up on the side of the road.

He quickly pulled the clutter from the trunk of the car and removed the scissor jack.

The rain was starting to fall heavier now, and he knew he would be in for another soaking if he didn't act fast.

He removed the studs from the wheel and glanced around before de-flating the tyre, and with hands shaking, he removed the wheel.

The radio which lay beside him cackled.

‘Where the hell are you Fagan?' Sergeant Muldoon's voice rang out.

“I've had a puncture sarge,” he croaked. “I'm changing the wheel now.”

The radio fell silent, and Jeremiah felt his hand shake even more.

He was starting to panic now, and he pulled out the stolen photographs, tore them up, and threw them into a nearby hedge.

God alone only knew the trouble he'd be in when they found out he had lied.

He would rather have had the sergeant scream down the radio at him though, than to sit here in this silence.

He was familiar with the big sergeant's ways. Shout and bawl was his way when something went wrong, and then the matter was quickly forgotten.

The longer the silence lasted, the more his guilt and fear of what would happen to him grew.

Back at the station, Sergeant Muldoon knew things somehow weren't right here. There was something in Jeremiah Fagan's voice. Something that was not quite normal. Panic, that was it, he felt, panic.

*  *  *  *  *

Jeremiah held his head in despair. He knew it was a certainty that he would be disgracefully expelled from the force, because he knew Sergeant Muldoon would leave no stone unturned to find out the truth.

He would be jobless with no hope for the future.

Then there was Jo. How could he tell her he had been sacked from the Garda Siochona in shame?

It would be over for him with Jo, he felt. But he would bluff it out to the end and admit to nothing.

They could beat him up, he felt, threaten him, even hold a damn gun to his head, but he would never under any circumstances, admit that he lied, never.

“Why the fuck did I have to become involved in this shit anyway?” he whispered and thumped the wheel hard.

Suddenly the radio buzzed into life again, and he thought about smashing it. It was Sergeant Muldoon again, but this time sounding much calmer than before.

“Jeremiah,” he asked in almost a whisper. “Did you actually see Madge and the others at the church with your own two eyes?”

Now Jeremiah had been thrown a life line. He had never actually used the words, ‘I seen them,' so now he had a chance. Besides, the priest and the others would be there by now, and he'd already done as much as he could for them anyway. This was a chance to get himself right off the hook.

“Um, no, I didn't actually see them sarge,” he replied. “Father O'Neill kept me at the door, in the hallway. I heard people talking though, and he told me it was them. I had no reason to doubt the word of a man of God.”

“It looks like you've been duped my lad,” Muldoon said.

Then another voice came over the air.

“Detain everyone at the church Fagan, we're on our way,” the voice said.

Only this time it wasn't Sergeant Muldoon's voice. This was the deep gravelled voice of Inspector Hobbs, he knew.

Hobbs ran everything by the book. No ifs or buts or cutting corners with this man either.

He also knew that, like the sergeant, this inspector would leave no stone unturned until he got to the bottom of it.

He remembered this inspector when he first started in the job. The other officers had complained about him on a regular basis.

‘They say there was an inspector here many years ago by the name of Mooney,' an officer told him one day. ‘He was a proper bastard, and he was killed at the church by some madman, sometime in the late sixties. But he didn't hold a candle to that bastard Hobbs. Stay out of his way,' the officer had firmly warned him.

Suddenly his shaking stopped and he quickly felt like the biggest coward in the all seeing universe.

Here were good people risking their own lives to save others, and all he could do was snivel like a child, about the thought of losing his job.

He picked up the radio. He wanted to say that they could shove their job right up their arse, that it was too late anyway. These brave people had already gone into the forest. But he knew they needed all the precious time they could get, and he could still help them.

“Did you receive that last transmission Fagan?” Inspector Hobbs asked.

Jeremiah paused, because now his mind was made up. They could discharge him from the force if they liked, and Jo would just have to accept it, but he was not going to let Donald, Tully and the others down.

He pushed the microphone send button, but this time he spoke with confidence, his hands still.

“I have left that location, but I can leave what I'm doing here and walk back to the church. I'll contact you when I get there.”

“How long before you get back there Fagan?”

Jeremiah knew the church was only a two minute walk away, but he lied.

He threw down the wheel wrench.

“Around ten minutes,” he said, and walked away from the car.

He strolled slowly down to the church, watching over his shoulder all the while. The police car with Hobbs and the rest would soon be roaring down the road.

He had just made it to the church when the police car finally arrived, and Sergeant Muldoon sprang out first.

“They're all gone Sarge, I've checked and there's no one inside.”

The sergeant pointed suspiciously across to the police car with the punctured wheel, which only sat a small distance away.

“Ten minutes you say?” Muldoon said. “Sarge, I…”

“I think you have some explaining to do Jeremiah,” he whispered.

When Inspector Hobbs left the car he was spitting mad. He stormed passed Jeremiah and the sergeant and dashed inside the church.

When he came back out a few minutes later, he was red faced and angry.

“I don't know what the blue bloody blazes is going on here,” he yelled to Sergeant Muldoon, “but I'm damned well going to find out.”

“Where did these people go?” Hobbs asked Jeremiah.

“I don't know sir? I was changing the wheel on the car when they left, and I saw nothing.”

“Very convenient Officer Fagan, very bloody convenient indeed,”

Inspector Hobbs loudly bellowed.

“I don't know what you're getting at inspector, but if you're accusing me of something then be out with it,” Jeremiah snapped, anger in his voice. “Maybe you should put a report into headquarters?”

Inspector Hobbs ignored him and jumped back into the police car.

When the sergeant looked at Jeremiah, it was not with a look of anger, but a look of respect. A look that somehow said, ‘well bloody done lad, for standing up to that jumped up bastard.'

Jeremiah had heard Hobbs bawl out Sergeant Muldoon quite a few times before, and Jeremiah instinctively knew that the big sergeant had been having trouble buttoning his lip and restraining himself lately. Jeremiah knew that Sergeant Muldoon could have torn the bloody man in two, had he wished, because the strength of the big sergeant was well known throughout Cappawhite.

Why the sergeant had once, single handed, lifted the rear end of a small car off the ground, allowing the driver and a passer by to free the man who was trapped below its rear wheels, after an accident. The man's life had been saved by his actions, but the modest sergeant would take no credit for it.

‘It's all part of the job,' Muldoon would later say.

But there was a reason, Jeremiah believed why he would let Hobbs treat him like this. Muldoon had a large family and a very sick mother whom he cared for financially. Yes, this sergeant knew on what side his bread was buttered, and so he simply absorbed everything Hobbs had thrown at him.

Sergeant Muldoon patted Jeremiah on the back in a friendly manner. “Fix the wheel, Jeremiah,” Sergeant Muldoon ordered, and with that he hopped back into the police car and sped away.

*  *  *  *  *

Jeremiah was unsure as to what part of the forest the priest and the others had gone, but he had already decided he would go look for them. He changed the wheel of the car very quickly, and then drove down to the spot where he had picked up Greta Casey.

He parked the car and entered the forest slowly, and with fear, but he bravely carried on. He didn't know how he could help them, but something in his mind urged him on. It wasn't just a feeling. It was almost like an order. Something in his brain was ordering him to go on.

This feeling he was having wasn't new to him. When Jeremiah was a young boy he had experienced this feeling, and he thought back.

He had been walking to his friend, Trevor Mallen's house in the village of Urlingford. He was twelve years of age at the time, and as he strolled along without a care in the world, an overwhelming feeling made him turn back and go up to the old church. He didn't want to go then, he remembered, but some force in his brain was commanding him, urging and pushing at him.

He was afraid when he entered the church, because, Sister Dougan had caught him and his friend Trevor, smoking by the church wall just a week earlier, and she had threatened to report the matter to Father Proctor. Now he felt that God was making him return to the church, so that father Proctor could beat him. He had tried to turn away, but his mind wouldn't let him, and as he entered the church he cried.

When he went inside however, the place was empty. Something was forcing him to continue on, and when he approached the alter, he could just make out someone's feet sticking out from behind it, and they were moving.

He quickly ran to the rear of the alter, where Father Proctor lay on his back. Something sticky ran from his mouth and he was convulsing.

Jeremiah ran to the phone in the hallway and called for an ambulance.

Father Proctor had suffered an almost fatal heart attack, but Jeremiah's quick actions had saved him.

Jeremiah had told them what had happened, and everyone had branded this a miracle.

Jeremiah though, had trouble working out that if God had really used his power to put this into his mind, and go to the church, then why did he not use this same power to prevent the heart attack in the first place?.

But who was he to question the thinking of God. If God wanted to work in these mysterious ways, then he believed that was his prerogative. Now though, this feeling had returned.

*  *  *  *  *

Sergeant Muldoon had driven to the lower part of the forest, but the inspector had changed his mind when they saw no one and ordered him to drive back to just beyond Iron Mills Bridge. As they drove back through the village, there was no sign of the other police car with the flat tyre.

They had just cleared the bridge when Sergeant Muldoon spotted the abandoned police car first, as they drove along the country road, and Inspector Hobbs tried to raise Jeremiah on the radio. Jeremiah though had left the handset behind, on the passenger seat.

“Come in Fagan,” Hobbs barked, angry that he was getting no reply.

“Come in, come in.”.

They pulled over to where the car was abandoned, and got out.

CHAPTER 20

As the small band passed the area Tully had last visited when he lay in wait for the badger baiters, he moved into the deep grass. He searched around for a moment, then he removed his coat with the shotgun inside that he had earlier left hidden in the bushes, and carried it out under his arm.

Francis gave him a funny look.

Five minutes later, they had reached the river, and Thomas ordered them to stop.

“This is the place,” he stated.

Everything remained silent for what seemed much too long, and the group looked anxiously at one another. Suddenly though, something began to happen.

A black mist which blew down from the dark clouds, surrounded them, and the river suddenly became very rough, as the water ran up onto the bank, changing from small ripples to black bulky waves. Francis tugged at Tully's arm and sobbed, while Thomas held the spear by his side and chanted loudly. Dan stood at the rear and scanned all around.

“Remember what Thomas said, Francis, we must be strong,” Tully told her.

Francis wiped away her tears, and nodded.

Suddenly Scraps barked loudly, and Thomas stared at him, wild eyed.

“They are coming,” Thomas shouted.

He hunkered down and stuck his fingers into the soggy earth, and rubbed the mud down each cheek and across his forehead, like war paint.

He turned to Dan. “Crazy Horse, a great warrior and leader of our people once said before going into battle. ‘It is a good day to fight; it is a good day to die.' This day has come for us my friend.”.

Dan stared at him for a moment and cocked his head.

“Yeah, well if you ever get to meet the guy up there in the after life Thomas; tell him he needs to go see someone, a shrink maybe.”

Thomas gave Dan a dark unfriendly look, and Dan knew he had overstepped the mark and had been disrespectful to the man and his people.

“Kiddin ya, just kidden,” Dan almost grovelled.

The big Indian started to dance and chant even more loudly. Then from the mist, the hooded creatures appeared. There were two of them and they were big, but one was slightly smaller than the tall one who carried the bear head.

Scraps barked loudly at them as they circled around.

Father O'Neill had already informed them that the little bear's head was the key to all of this. Destroy the bear and the link with the horseman would be broken, he had claimed.

Realistically though, they knew this would be an impossibility. These imposing creatures were just too strong for them.

Donald stood in front of Francis and waited. Unlike before though, they had no plan; no Lamont's mine, and no Griff. This would be a simple case of blind faith in the hope that somehow Thomas would have the answers to save them.

Tully could feel his heart race. They had come here for him, and he knew what the consequences would mean for him should they take him. He had decided though, that if the creature were to get within three feet of him, then he would pull up the shotgun which he had hidden beneath his coat, and take his own life.

The large creature moved closer, whilst the other stood some distance back, head bowed. The mist was fully circling them now, about thirty feet away.

Father O'Neill spoke first, and very loudly.

“We know you Ben Casey, and we know you, Charles. In the name of God consider what you are about to do here.”.

The little bear was saying something to the larger creature, urging it to attack, its mouth twisted and obscene, and when the creature wailed, the trees in the forest seemed to shake. The other creature was looking at them now, moving its head to and fro.

This was like some old western movie, Dan felt, where the Indians would ride around the barricaded wagons, shooting their arrows at the settlers. But these settlers had no wagons, no hope.

Only Thomas kept his distance from the other five, as he continued to chant, and slowly dance around them.

Donald stared silently and waited. Waited for death. With his wife gone, his life had become lonely and miserable. He was thankful that she had died peacefully in her sleep, and in a strange and reckless way, glad she had died before him. Donald wouldn't have wanted her to go through the emotional turmoil that he had been made to deal with, should he have died first. Life could be very rewarding sometimes, he knew, but it could also be very cruel.

He still loved and missed Heather so very much, and wanted to be with her in any event, so these things didn't frighten him now. In fact, in some misguided and strange way, he felt like King Leonidas, as he held the small pass at Thermopylae with his brave 300 Spartans, against the Persians in 480 BC. These men fought against terrific odds, when hundreds of thousands of Persians attacked them. The gallant men fought for three days, and were only beaten when the Persians were led down a secret path behind Leonidas, by a traitor.

But unlike King Leonidas, he had no weapon with him this time, just Heather's old bible, and he removed it from his pocket.

Suddenly things began to move very quickly. The large creature lunged toward Tully.

He clumsily pulled the shotgun out from his coat and pulled it upward, toward his head, but Francis had seen it. In desperation she grabbed the barrel and struggled to pull it away from him, as Donald blocked the creature's path and pushed the bible toward its face. Now there was confusion, as the creature hissed loudly and the shotgun blasted harmlessly into the air. “No Tully,” Francis screamed. “No!”.

Father O'Neill forced the shotgun from them and flung it into the river.

“What have you done?” Tully yelled at him, as he held his head in despair.

The large creature held the little bear tightly as it gripped Donald with its other powerful hand. Donald knew that he would be dead in about two seconds flat, but he reached out and gripped the bear's head, which was still shouting orders. The creature squeezed his throat and crushed.

Dan watched across, horrified. He stood unmoving, as though frozen in time and space, then he heard the voice. It was Take em out Tommy, shouting at him.

‘Move in kwid, move in, the ole one twoo, the ole one twoo,' he urged.

Dan moved quickly and charged into the creature, swinging wildly. He knew his fists weren't working, and he tried to wrench its hand from Donald's bleeding throat. He couldn't save Donald, and he cursed loudly as Donald's blood ran across his fingers.

“Fuck you, you bastard,” he screamed into the creatures face. But he was spent now, his strength drained, and he backed away.

Blood spewed from Donald's mouth, but as he died, he used his full remaining reserves of strength and pulled hard.

Suddenly he wrenched the bear's head from the creature's hand, and the head of Mr Cliff fell to the ground, still mouthing orders and obscenities.

Suddenly the ground shook, and even the creature stood upright as it dropped Donald's dead body to the ground.

The sound of thundering hooves filled the air, and now they knew. Stazivore had come. They eyed the mist intently, as the sound came closer and closer.

Thomas had stopped chanting, and he stood tall, legs apart, waiting. Something in the mist to their right began to change. The smoke like structure was slowly parting.
Parting like the red sea,
Dan thought.

The giant horse, maybe fifteen foot high, burst through the mist and raised its front legs into the air. It's neighing was almost deafening to them. The horse was no longer pale though, and plumes of something like steam, blasted out from its nostrils.

Stazivore, held a long scythe in his right hand, and swung it pendulum like at his side. His thick muscle bound legs were covered in heavy leather straps.

Nothing could ever have prepared them for this fearsome sight, and as they huddled together in sheer terror, Francis stood upright.

“What are you waiting for?” she yelled.

The horseman stood like some general watching over his infantry, as the large creature that was once Ben Casey, bent to pick up Mr Cliff's head.

With frightening speed, Thomas leapt into the air and threw the spear. It drove deep into the creature's neck, and protruded out through the other side. The creature howled in pain and staggered back, as the thick green blood like substance gushed out in all directions. It tore at the spear, but could only manage to rip its hood off, revealing its grotesque features.

All the while the other hooded creature stood and watched in silence.

The wounded creature howled and spun around, as it shook violently from head to toe.

The horseman stood rigid, watching.

The large creature fell to its knees, clearly dying, and everyone knew the spear had worked its magic.

Thomas moved quickly behind the creature, which was on all fours now, choking, and he ferociously pulled the spear from its neck, ripping and tearing at flesh as it tore through.

He would have to spear the bear's head though, which was lying about ten feet away, still shouting commands to Stazivore, and he would have to act fast.

Killing the bear was all that mattered to Thomas now. If he could do this then it was all over, he knew.

As he raised the spear to strike, the horseman was charging toward him. It swung the scythe, just as Thomas looked up, and the blade struck him in the chest, sending his body soaring thirty feet, high into the air. Thomas's dead body crashed down into the river with a mighty splash as it fell back to earth.

Tully pulled at the rider's feet, but Stazivore kicked out, and Tully was sent sprawling into the dirt, some twenty feet away, his mouth and nose bleeding badly.

Francis ran to him and held his bloodied face, but Tully pushed her away, as he ran to retrieve the spear. Dan though, had beaten him to it.

The large dying creature wasn't finished yet though. It had one last chance for vengeance, if it could only save Mr Cliff, then Stazivore would wreak havoc.

It reached out, groping with its long arm, as it held its torn throat with the other. A thick green blood like substance gushed from between its fingers, and the small band could only watch helpless as it picked up Mr Cliff and flung him toward the deep fast flowing river. If Mr Cliff sank into these raging currents, he would be lost to them forever, and he would live at the bottom of the river.

Stazivore would then do its bidding and kill them all.

Suddenly Father O'Neill shouted loudly.

“Go Scraps, go,” he commanded.

The little dog charged and leapt through the air, and just before Mr Cliff hit the water, Scraps had him in his mouth. The little dog splashed into the river and went under.

Seconds that felt like minutes passed, and Francis put her hand to her mouth.

Dan glanced at the priest, who in turn looked at Tully, and for one heart stopping moment they believed Scraps had gone, drowned in the fast flowing river. The large horse was turning for another charge, as the horseman of death held the scythe menacingly.

The little dog re-surfaced though, and paddled ferociously to the bank, Mr Cliff still held firmly in its mouth.

From behind them the deafening neighing sounded, as Stazivore readied himself for another charge.

The horse kicked out with its front legs, as it reared up.

Scraps dropped Mr Cliff on the ground, as Dan lifted the spear.

The thunder of hooves shook the ground as the horseman powered toward them.

Dan stood above Mr Cliff, and stared down.

“Don't let him hurt me Francis,” Mr Cliff pleaded. “I love you. Francis, Think of how I was always there for you Francis,” it pleaded. “Remember how I helped you, saved you.”

Francis looked away and held her ears. She knew Mr Cliff had saved her in the past, and she felt a great guilt fall onto her shoulders. In fact, she felt like a traitor. Okay, as a child she did love Mr Cliff, but things had changed. Mr Cliff had turned into a hateful monster that would stop at nothing to kill her and the man she loved.

“Please Franc…”

“No!” Francis screamed. “You're evil!”

Dan, spear held tightly, looked at Donald's ravaged body, and glanced across at his dead friend Thomas, who was floating face down about fifty yards up the river.

“Francis, pleeessse…”

“Goodbye Chucky,” Dan said sarcastically.

Suddenly Mr Cliff stopped pleading, and as his face twisted, he mouthed his promise.

“You may destroy me you fucker, but now your wife has returned to the dead. Your son and daughter are no more. They are all gone. Ha, ha, ha,” Mr Cliff laughed. “No more!”

The horseman was almost upon them as Dan sank the spear into Mr Cliffs head.

The little bears head gave a terrible scream as its eyes fizzled, then turned grey. Mr Cliff was no more.

Francis sobbed loudly as the giant horseman came thundering toward them, sixty yards and closing.

“We're too bloody late,” Tully choked.

“No, look,” Father O'Neill pointed.

The horseman straightened his prose, and they watched as he drew in the scythe and rode high, passed them, away, and up through the mist, into the sky. Stazivore was gone.

Francis quickly kicked the dead Mr Cliff into the river and watched the little head float away with the current.

The other hooded creature remained still and silent, but they knew it was watching their every move.

“Give me the fucking spear Dan,” Tully demanded, as he stared intently at the creature.

“The spear won't work for you Tully,” Dan stated.

Suddenly a silence came over the forest, and Tully scanned around.

A few minutes passed and Dan was convinced it was all over.

“I don't think it means us any harm,” Dan added

“Have you gone mad Dan? Thomas just killed its fucking daddy, and now it's going to kill us. In two minutes it'll tear us to shreds. Now give me the spear Dan. If you won't use it, I will,” Tully raged. The creature pointed at them, then turned, and slowly disappeared into the mist.