Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (32 page)

Sammie
grinned, wide and feline.  “Semantics.  The only thing you need to realise is
that God’s world is a failed experiment.  It is time for new management.”

“You’re
the fucking Devil,” Tim spat.  “Angela will stop you.”

Sammie
sighed.  “I am not the Devil.  The Devil is a weak being, perverted by too much
time amongst the human filth.  I am beyond God, beyond the Devil.  I am the
wolf amongst the lambs.  Your cleric will kneel before me and her death will be
sublime.”

Tim
took another step backwards.  “You say I am insignificant.  So what do you want
with Angela?  Why did you summon her here?”

“I
did not summon her here.”

“Then
who did?” Tim demanded.  “Who scribbled her name in your sketch pad?”

Sammie
took in a deep, whistling breath and let it out again in a gust which stunk up
the air like festering meat.  “There are more forces at work in this house than
you realise.  There is another.  He is the one who shares history with your priest,
not me.  Regardless, her presence defiles this place and I will take exquisite
pleasure in ripping her soul apart.”

“You
won’t-”

“ENOUGH!” 
Sammie’s voice was like a hive full of wasps.  It buzzed inside Tim’s head and
made his eyes water.  “Leave this place.  Leave before I change my mind and
this house becomes your tomb.  The door is open.  I suggest that you take it. 
My clemency is not infinite.”

Tim
turned around and faced the door.  The darkness outside beckoned him.  It
offered safety and the chance of living out the rest of his life.

Tim
cleared his throat, sighed, and stepped towards the door.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

After
checking the penthouse floor and finding it empty, Angela and Frank were now
checking out the third floor.  It, too, seemed deserted.  She wondered what
Sammie was planning.  Would he jump out at them any moment, or was he planning
to flee the house?  She still didn’t understand what was happening, but she was
confident about one thing: the blood exorcism was the solution – if it wasn’t
then Sammie (or whoever was in control of him) would not have fled.  Sammie was
afraid of her.

Just
need to drive the dagger through his feet and all this could be over.

Angela
shook her head at the thought of what she had already done, and what she still
needed to do.  Once she had been a servant of the Lord, and it was true that
she had eventually lost her way, but she now felt closer to God now than ever. 
Her renewed faith would allow her to do the grizzly deeds ahead of her.

Frank
returned from one of the bedrooms he’d been checking.  Angela smiled at him as
he approached.  “Find anything?”

“No,
empty like all the rest.  The next room is yours.  Did you want to check it
out?”

Angela
nodded.  She headed up to the door on the left which led to the room in which
she herself had been staying.  Inside, things were just the way she’d left
them.  Her suitcase lay on the floor next to the bed, its contents spilling
out.  The bed was unmade – and inviting.  Tiredness pulsed through her head and
licked at the back of her eyelids.  She looked at her watch and saw that it was
now almost four in the afternoon.

Yet
the moon was still out like it was midnight.

A
man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic
can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his
cell.

The
C.S. Lewis quote had popped into Angela’s head, unbidden, as she turned a full
circle of the room, scrutinising every nook and cranny.  She even knelt down to
inspect beneath the bed.  All was clear; no little boys hiding, no evil lurking. 
The last thing that caught Angela’s eye was the painting above her bed of the
two cherubs fighting.  She didn’t know why the picture kept catching her eye,
but she was convinced she was missing something.

Or
maybe I just think it’s ugly.

Angela
exited the room.  When she re-entered the hallway, Frank was not where she had
left him, and was further along the corridor, over by the grand staircase.

“Frank,
are you okay?”

Frank
remained silent, but he heard her.  He raised one hand beside his head that
made it clear he’d acknowledged her but wanted to remain silent.

Angela
hurried forward, her stomach full of dread.  It took more than a dozen steps to
traverse the long corridor and catch up to Frank and, once she did, it became
clear what had rooted the man to the spot.

Sammie
was slowly climbing the stairs below.  He took each step leisurely, ascending
like a spirit en route to Heaven.  There was a smile on his face so great that
it contorted his other features completely and pushed them out of the way.

Angela
moved beside Frank and whispered to him.  “What is he doing?  Do you think Tim
is okay?”

“Tim
made his own bed,” said Frank.

Angela
watched the boy continue up the stairs. She couldn’t help but shout out to
him.  “Sammie?  Sammie what are you doing?”

Sammie
did not acknowledge her.  He continued his slow, gliding ascent of the
staircase.  His smile seemed to grow wider, crooked teeth taking up more of his
face.

“Sammie? 
Where is Tim?”

Sammie
finally glanced up and acknowledged her.  “Tim has abandoned you, Priest.  His
heart was meek.”

“So
we were right,” said Frank.  “Tim did run out on us.  Coward.”

Angela
raised a hand.  “You cannot blame a man for being frightened.  None of us have
any power over bravery.  Courage chooses us only when it is needed.  Tim isn’t
important.”

Sammie
had reached the top of the stairs now and was only six feet away from Angela
and Frank.  He stood before them, calmly, as if their previous altercations, one
where Angela had driven a dagger through his palms, had not happened.  Angela
saw now that the wounds had blackened and dried.

“I
need to finish this, Frank,” Angela whispered.

Frank
nodded.  “Sammie, are you willing to come back to your room?”

Sammie
laughed.  “What do you think, fool?”

Frank
sighed.  “Hard way it is then.”  He made a snatch for the boy but was nowhere
quick enough.  Sammie leapt up onto the balcony’s bannister, his bare feet
gripping the wood like a vulture’s talons (his filthy toenails were just as
long).  Angela took over from Frank and made her own grab for the boy.

Sammie
kicked her in the face from his elevated perch and sent her reeling backwards
into the wall.  Angela tasted blood at the back of her nose.  Sammie glared
down at her with sunken eyes.  The boy seemed more beast-like than human – some
twisted mix of species.  The smell coming off of him was foul.

Frank
made another grab for Sammie, but again the boy was too quick for him.  He
sprung off the banister and cleared Frank’s head by several feet, landing
behind him in a crouch and hissing like a feral cat.

“He’s
not even human,” said Frank, steadying himself against the railing.  “More like
an animal.”

Angela
used the back of her hand to wipe away the blood that was filling up her
nostrils.  “The evil has twisted him, Frank, activated his primal instincts.  We
need to finish this now or Sammie will be lost forever.”

Her
words seemed to spur Frank on and he bellowed in defiance as he made a lunging
tackle towards Sammie.  His arms connected with the boy’s legs and brought them
both to the ground.  Sammie squealed with childish laughter, unconcerned by his
capture.

“I
need you to hold his legs,” Angela said.  “I must pierce his feet together. 
Then it will be done, it will be over.”

Frank
managed to straddle Sammie and begun wrestling to get the boy’s ankles together. 
Sammie kicked his legs and giggled as if it were some kind of game.

“Give
it up, Frank,” Sammie said.  “You’re never going to be the hero.  You couldn’t
save my parents and you never saved Conway, Nichols, or Albright.  They died on
your watch, Sergeant!  Right after you shot a pregnant woman in the stomach. 
So much death at your hands.  You’ll never wash the stink off.”

Frank
reacted as if he’d been kicked in the ribs.  His grip on Sammie loosened.  The
boy shuffled free.

Angela
spoke loudly, trying to be the only voice that Frank heard.  “Frank, don’t
listen to him.  Whatever he is talking about doesn’t matter.  We all have
pasts.  It is what we do right now that matters.”

“Tell
that to those men’s families,” Sammie said.  “Tell that to Conway’s son.  Tell
him how you sent his father into a village you said was friendly.  Tell him how
you left him to die in Sierra Leone.  I thought the Parachute Regiment never
left a man behind.  Well, you left three behind to save your own ass.”

Frank
staggered to his feet and backed away from Sammie.  “They…they were pinned
down, wounded.  The whole village was armed – even the pregnant woman.  If I
stayed behind we would all have died.  I needed to bring in support before the
rebels dug in somewhere else, killed more soldiers.  Someone needed to get back
alive.”

Angela
shouted.  “Frank!  Frank, it doesn’t matter.  He’s just trying to break you. 
You need to get a hold of him so we can finish this.”

Frank
shook his head.  “Things were finished for me a long time ago.  Protecting this
family was supposed to be my salvation, but instead it’s my last condemnation.” 
He spun around and grabbed Angela; shoved her against the balcony railing and
winded her.  “I’m sorry,” he said as he snatched the ceremonial dagger from her
fingertips and rushed towards Sammie with it.

Sammie
swatted Frank aside like a measly fly.  The force was inhumane and sent the
large ex-soldier clean off his feet and reeling backwards into Angela.  The
sudden impact of Frank’s body took Angela by surprise and her legs twisted beneath
her.  Arms pinwheeling, she tumbled into the balcony railing and, as her hip
struck hard against the wood, the momentum carried her over.  Suddenly she was
upside down and falling.

Angela
felt the floor disappear from beneath her feet and knew that she was falling to
her death.  A two story drop would be coming up to meet her.

Something
grabbed her wrist. 

She
flipped in the air, legs dangling painfully from her overstretched joints.  She
hung by her left arm, the pain in her shoulder immense, and was rising slowly
back towards the balcony railing.  Somebody had saved her at the last second.

Thank
God.  I owe you one, Frank.

“You
ought to be more careful,” said a voice that was not Frank’s.

Angela
looked up and saw that it was Sammie who held her by the wrist.  He lifted her
smoothly, as if she weighed no more than a bag of sugar.  The look on his face
was like that of a cat toying with a mouse.  Angela knew Sammie’s intention was
not to save her; it was only to prolong his own amusement.  The look on his
face was one of pure hatred and spite.

Once
Sammie had raised her up enough that they were face to face and she could feel
his fetid breath on her cheeks, he stopped and held her there.  It was then
that Angela saw Frank writhing on the floor behind Sammie, with the ceremonial
dagger jutting up from his thigh muscle.  He must have fallen on it when Sammie
flung him across the balcony.  There was no chance of him saving her now.  She
was helpless, doomed.

“Where
is your God now?” Sammie purred.  “Has he abandoned you?”

“Let
her go,” someone demanded from the shadows.  The person stepped forward enough
to be seen.

Sammie
actually seemed surprised by who he was seeing.  “I thought you’d left.  How
very stupid of you not to have.”

Tim’s
eyes narrowed and he seemed resolute.  “I said let her go.”

“Yes,
I heard you,” Sammie said.  “But considering her current predicament, I don’t
really think that is wise.  Do you?”

Tim
stepped forward.  “Pull her up and then let her go.”

Sammie
smiled at him.   Angela felt the boy’s icy fingers squeeze tighter around her
wrist.  For a moment she thought he might actually lift her over.  “How about I
just let the bitch fall and then I come over there and twist your head off like
a wart from a pig.  I could even send you to join your brother.  All that guilt
inside of you; I could end it all so easily, you poor man.  Let me help you,
Tim.  Let me make it all go away.”

Tim’s
confidence seemed to waver.  Angela could even see him shaking.  Despite that, Tim
reissued his demands.  “Pull her back up now.  Things don’t have to end like
this.”

“Oh
come on, Tim.  I thought you were the smart one; the only one that actually
realised how ineffectual you all are.  You were right in wanting to leave so
badly.  Your only mistake was coming back.”

Tim
took another step forward.

Sammie
let Angela drop. 

She
screamed.

But
he still held her.  He’d just let her drop a few inches. It was all it took to
make her cry out in despair.