Authors: Daniel Coughlin
She wore a light yellow dress with straps over her tanned shoulders. Her shoes matched in color. She wasn’t made-up with blush, mascara or any other dressings. Still, it was apparent that she’d taken her time in front of the mirror. There was a natural art to her appearance.
She smiled as she entered the diner. His cheeks burned. He stood, showed her to her seat.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Donna said.
It was odd to hear her speak kind words. Before and during the exorcism, she’d only said foul things to him. But that wasn’t her. That was the demon.
Stunned, but slowly settling his attraction, he said, “I think maybe I should be thanking you. You look better than well. You look wonderful, lovely.” And for the first time, in a long time, he was embarrassed that what he’d said sounded corny, and maybe inappropriate.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching out and wrapping her slender fingers around his hand, squeezing gently.
The warmth of her hands felt good. He felt life beneath the skin of her palms. Her fingers held a touch of callous. It was comforting.
Donna looked down at their intertwined hands, at the center of the table. When her gaze lifted, he saw tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I’m thirty-three years old now…but I have only lived for one of those years, this past one. I’ve been clean, sober and good. I work in a garden nursery. The sun feels good on my back when I plant flowers and I know that God is shining his light upon me. I never knew that life could be so wonderful,” she said. There was a wild amazement swimming behind her moist hazel eyes.
Gardner allowed tears to spill down his cheeks. He couldn’t help it. Watching Donna—full of life—explaining true happiness was a rich feeling. He didn’t know if he was crying because he was happy for her or if he was sad because he wanted to live life as she did.
“It sounds like this last year has made up for the past.”
They sat, silent, for nearly ten minutes enjoying each other’s company. They were comfortable, as if they’d known each other their entire lives.
After lunch, Donna sat up straight. She looked out the window, and then said, “When I was taken…I was weak. I wanted to kill myself. I was miserable every day that I was alive. I took drugs.
Not to feel good, or because my body depended on them, but because I wanted to torture myself... slowly.
I wanted to punish myself and when I was taken, I went to a place where I couldn’t escape the pain. I was in a place where I felt extreme sorrow. It tormented me.” She peered up at Gardner. “And then you helped me…”
Out of habit, he cut her off by saying, “It was God…working through me.” He realized he was being rude. “I’m sorry, please continue.”
“I was able to come out of that place; where pain was everything. It burned where I was. When I came back to life, I felt its beauty. In an instant, I knew how precious life was and that I’d taken it for granted. The first thing I saw was frightened faces, but everything was better. I walk in the light, now. Life is exciting. It’s a gift.”
Over the next few weeks, Donna Shaney and Leslie Gardner met for breakfasts, lunches and dinners. They went for walks. They talked about life and faith and finally, he asked her out on a date. It was the most nerve racking question he’d ever asked. He’d gone to battle with demons, the most unimaginable evils; they were nothing compared to the fear of asking this beautiful woman out on a date. Everything had to be perfect. He didn’t want to push her away, or be unprofessional. He had to be careful. He was a professional man of faith. If this went wrong, he would embarrass the church, himself, and his faith. Added to the fact that if they continued courting each other, he would have to leave the church.
Donna didn’t skip a beat. She was delighted and their first kiss occurred on the back patio of a nice Italian restaurant in Genoa, Wisconsin. They sat near a cozy fire pit looking out at the Mississippi River. It was sunset. The warm evening wind gently caressed their bodies. Her lips were careful, magical and filled with love.
Donna and Leslie were married on May 30, of 1985. His constituents were unhappy with his decision to leave his practice. They held a job for him, but the job was more of a courtesy than real work. They called him a
consultant
and there was no one to replace him. No one else could do what he did. There was evil to fight and the church had lost their most valuable weapon. They were aware that he couldn’t fight forever. The evil that he battled would have eventually broken his will. It would have exploited his weaknesses and attacked him and destroyed him. In the bottom of their hearts, they were glad that he’d been given Donna.
Now, they lived in their nice country home in the rolling hills of Wisconsin. Gardner’s pension from the church wasn’t much, but he and Donna were people of faith. They were enriched and rewarded by their fellowship. They had opened a garden nursery. It did okay, enough to live
off of
, and they were happy.
But now, looking out the picture window of his lovely home on the hill, Gardner felt an evil presence residing below.
Turning toward the staircase, Gardner stood from his chair. He walked upstairs, shuffled down the hallway, pushed the bedroom door open and lightly shook his wife’s shoulder. She was startled,
then
rolled over to face him.
Donna focused when she saw Gardner’s seriousness.
“What? What is it? You look scared.”
He didn’t know if she was fully awake yet. She obviously knew that things were going bad. The severity of his expression told all.
“I need you to pack only what you need, get in your car, and drive away from here—now.” Gardner explained. He was calm yet silently frantic.
“Where will I go? When can I come back?” she asked calmly. He knew that she trusted him. She wouldn’t argue.
“I wish I had time to explain, but I don’t. You’ll have to trust me. Go as far away as you can and call me in a day. If you can’t get a hold of me, call the police.”
“I’ll do as you say,” she agreed while caressing the side of his cheek. “Are you sure that I can’t help you with…whatever this is?”
“You cannot and I would not ask it of you. The less you know. The better off you’ll be.”
She got out of bed, put on a pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt.
“I’m not scared. I have faith,” she said as she walked to him. She kissed the side of his head, below his temple.
“You have nothing to fear…if you go. But I feel that there is a fight ahead. Something evil is among us and I won’t put you in harm’s way.”
Gardner hoped that he wasn’t contradicting himself. If there was nothing to fear, then she shouldn’t have to leave.
She got ready, quickly, anyhow. She trusted him on a deep level. It didn’t matter if he contradicted himself or not. He knew what he was doing and he knew that she understood this.
Walking her to the door, he couldn’t help but to stop at the window and look to the store. Evil resonated in the air. It was like an invisible tornado, dangerous and undetected. There was something very familiar about this evil. This was an evil he’d fought before. He’d known that this day would find him. Still, he was taken back and knew that the evil waited for him.
Gardner stood in the garage. The door opened, and then Donna drove her Jeep onto the driveway. He heard another scream from the liquor store.
Gardner watched Donna drive down the hill. Cornfields surrounded her Jeep on both sides. Unaware that he was doing so, he held his breath.
She stopped at the octagon shaped stop-sign that reflected in the moonlight.
Gardner prayed that Donna would make it past the liquor store.
She did.
He watched her headlights disappear down Highway 26.
Chapter 8
1
Winny and Garth crawled forward along the cold tile floor. They moved slowly. Their bellies lightly squeaked against the coldness of the tile, every inch that they pulled seemed louder than the last. They maneuvered toward the back door, just beyond the rusty rack of cleaning supplies. They both stopped moving, startled and scared.
Stomping through the front door, the red-head ran inside.
What was her name?—Cherri.
She was calling-out into the darkness of the store. Her voice trembled. Obviously, she was nervous.
Winny grabbed Garth’s ankle. He crawled a few feet ahead. He whispered, “The phone in the back office…we’ll call the police.”
Garth turned to Winny, annoyed. He’d already thought of calling the police. It was the only thing on his mind since the thieves had smashed their cell phones.
“No shit, Sherlock. Can we get the hell out of this war-zone first? Do you mind?”
Winny looked dumbfounded. He removed his hand from around Garth’s ankle. They continued crawling toward the door. Garth popped to his knee. He staggered, settled, and then wrapped his fingers around the doorknob. He turned in the direction of the store area.
Cherri screamed.
“Timmy, where are you?” she begged.
Garth appreciated that Cherri was calling attention to herself. She was drawing the psychos away from him and Winny. Since he didn’t care for the red-head, this was great. He hoped that she would continue hollering.
Garth found it difficult to shake his thoughts of the sadistic young couple. There was something disturbingly wrong with both of them. In fact, their behavior was so disturbing that he didn’t want to know what was wrong. Obviously, they were dangerous. The farther Garth and Winny could get away from them, the better.
Twisting the doorknob, ever so slowly, Garth inched the office door open. When the space between the door and the jamb was wide enough, he slid through the small opening. He didn’t make any noise. The pressure from the door was uncomfortable and was squeezing his ribs. Garth’s hand was replaced by Winny’s, who then slid through the door. Once on the other side, they let the heavy door slide shut. It whined, ever-so-slowly, until the lock clicked, securing it. Garth flung the switch to the right. There wasn’t much relief that came from locking the door, but a secured door was better than an unsecured one. Given what had happened, nothing was very assuring when considering the madness on the other side of the door. Garth could only imagine the harm those bastards could inflict.
2
Cherri’s knees weakened with each step she took. She wanted to sit, but knew that she couldn’t. She was sick. Her head pounded and she was thirsty. She stopped in front of the cashier counter. She rubbed her damp hands together, frazzled, scared, and shaking. She wanted Timmy to hurry up. She wanted to leave.
Where was he?
She’d seen death before and didn’t like it. That was something that no normal human being could ever get used to. It was unnervingly frightening because she was in potential danger. The murderous psycho could easily kill her too. She wanted to vomit. Her stomach was flipping. She would do anything to be far away from here. Maybe, if given the opportunity, she’d turn herself in to the police. She hoped that they would come. Right now, she’d feel safe in custody. Better yet, jail was an even better place to be. She imagined that this was what
waking up
meant
and she was certainly awake. She felt dizzy, but alert. If she could go back in time, she’d have jumped out of the stolen truck. She would leave Timmy and never look back. She’d never even cuss again if it meant that she could get out of this nightmare alive. But that wasn’t the case and she knew it. There was trouble ahead. The young
psychotic
couple that had come in from the cornfield was somewhere in this store. They were maniacal, deranged and they were shot, badly. They were nowhere in sight, as if they’d simply disappeared, but still, she feared them.
Where could they have gone?
They’d both been wounded to the point they should be dead. Cherri didn’t understand how they were alive and she didn’t want to understand.
Feeling heavy as cement, her legs stiffened. She could barely walk but somehow she managed to step toward the restrooms. That’s where she’d last seen Timmy.
Why would he still be in there?
Maybe he was hiding.
The cops would surely be there soon. Too much time had passed and there had been quite a disturbance. There had been gunfire and screaming. Someone, somewhere, must have heard something, even if this was the smallest town in America. Someone had to have called the police—she hoped.
If Timmy didn’t come out soon, Terrance would leave. He was loyal, but not loyal enough to stay and see what happened next, not in a situation like this.
Sooner or later
the police would be here, and if not, they had other problems lurking in the darkness of this store. In the end, he’d play it safe. He would leave.
Cherri’s head was spinning. Her nausea was becoming uncontrollable. She wanted to leave, fast. She couldn’t take much more of this. Her anxiety had peaked. She had to stop and rest, catch her breath. She wondered why she even cared about Timmy, at this point.
Leaning on the snack rack—which held various brands of potato chips—she tried to breathe. Her lungs were restricted. Her breathing was raspy and short, which made her panic more. Death crossed her mind. The thought terrified her. Dying before she had a chance to turn her life around, that was her worst fear. She wasn’t a good person. Her upbringing had been traumatizing, but that was no excuse. She made poor decisions even though she knew right from wrong. Most of the time, she knew that the reaction to her poor actions was going to be bad. Still, she did what she wanted to do and didn’t care who got hurt. Maybe she did it for attention or maybe she just couldn’t help herself.