Seven-X (6 page)

I look around at these patients. They’re all the odd man out. I could be one step away. How many of us aren’t? All the pressure we put on ourselves to succeed, to survive as we jam tighter into this crock-pot of a planet. You ever wonder why this whole thing doesn’t explode?

What’s the tipping point? 

When one bad thing happens after another, what’s the one that finally breaks us? Breaks our will to the point we give up.  How do we find the opening in the pot to let the steam out slowly?  

I actually do feel like I’m boiling.  My body feels hot and it’s probably twenty degrees outside and sixty in here. I already took my sweater off. Billings is back. I got to go and get ready for the big show.

JOURNAL ENTRY:

THURSDAY DECEMBER 9, 2010 – 1:05 PM

I really need Internet service out here. Because I swear I’m staring at Timothy Nathan Tyler. I’m on the other side of a two-way mirror taking notes and getting ready to record this group therapy session and I’m staring right at him. I’m staring at Tyler. 

Billings was afraid that the patients would feel uncomfortable if I were present in the room recording them and he feared for my safety. He said, “I may enter when given permission,” but I can’t bring anything inside with me. I’m going to be introduced as a new patient. I think that’s better for me because I’ll be able to gain their trust and get information more easily.

And if this guy is Tyler, then I am looking at a ghost. According to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Tyler was
Executed Offender #366
,
with a date of execution June 6, 2006. 

That’s right - 6/6/6. 

It’s not the date so much that freaked me out as the “last statement” from Tyler. It was never published. 

But I got the audio taped recording of it from the prison guard who took the statement, Renaldo Gonzalez. He’s the man I asked Aida Mae about. He tipped me off to this whole investigation. 

Renaldo Gonzalez brought me this tape in May of 2010. He was scared, but he felt “convicted,” as he put it, to do the right thing, because it was going to happen again. 

I still don’t know how he heard of me. He told me he was ‘praying’ and God gave him my name. That’s the best one I ever heard. God told him about me… Please! 

I had to follow through just to appease my sense of humor. So I listened to the tape.

“Don’t worry mama. You know I’m already dead, but I’m being resurrected tonight. Uphir is taking my soul. He’ll let me live as long as I do what he says. I’m gonna make it back to you. And take care of you the way I should have. I love you mama. So stay strong. Until I return.”

It seemed like Tyler’s voice and Gonzalez swore to its authenticity. Then he confessed this whole conspiracy to me. He said that Tyler’s death was staged and they were going to ship him out of the prison.  

Guess where? Uphir! The town that doesn’t exist. It makes perfect sense with Aida Mae seeing prison trucks. 

Now Renaldo Gonzalez wasn’t sure where Uphir was because they had a driver who wouldn’t talk for fear of his life. Gonzalez had an idea of the general area based on some phone calls he overheard. 

So him and I took a trip out here, but never found anything. I figured he was lying and gave up on the whole thing.  Then the first week of September, Gonzalez comes to me again and says he’s got a good tip on the location and wants to check it out with me.  I declined and that was the last time I heard from him. He just disappeared off the face of the earth, and the search and investigation for his disappearance slowly faded from the headlines. After rummaging through his place, I found a hand written note with the name Haworth, a few photos and a map of the area.

Then in early October, Kevin Dobson came to me upset about his wife’s request. “It was an uncharacteristic change,” he said. 

Coming from the guy who didn’t know his wife murdered six of their kids, I didn’t put much stock into uncharacteristic. But after reviewing news clips and doing a little investigative research I found this.  

Every four to five years going back to 1982 when the death penalty was re-instated, someone’s record slipped through the cracks. Paperwork was missing, there was an accidental cremation, some mistake was made filing the case or complaints were filed by family members with suspicion of misconduct. 

Nothing seemed highly unusual until you put all the pieces together and could see the pattern. It piqued my interest, so I followed up on this lead.

Following Gonzalez’s tip, I found Uphir and made my first uninvited visit. Trying to get into the fortress was difficult, but when I mentioned Haworth’s name, the guard at the gate called in. When I mentioned Renaldo Gonzalez to Haworth over the intercom, the password must have worked and the gates opened. I didn’t get to see much that visit. Haworth kept me at a distance and we chatted in the main lobby for a few minutes. 

When I mentioned I was a reporter, his upper lip stiffened and I could see his breath shorten. He danced around clearances being needed to enter the facility and proper channels of authorization, consent and disclosure regarding information I may want. 

When I mentioned Timothy Nathan Tyler, I guess that’s what stirred the cauldron and my hint of Annette Dobson visiting probably warranted my official invite. 

So if this is Tyler I’m looking at, then the good doctor wants me to see him. Tyler’s tattooed neckline is a very distinct calling card and his eyes are unmistakably cold. In fact, he’s frozen like a corpse, sitting straight up, barely breathing, locked in a straitjacket with his legs in restraints. 

He’s so stiff you’d swear he’s dead. He hasn’t moved in at least five minutes. I think they’re all praying or doing some weird ritual. Everyone looks catatonic. It’s like
Night of The Living Dead
in there.  

There are three of them in the room with Billings. 

Next to Tyler is that freak Donald from breakfast who looks like Sling Blade. He’s rocking back and forth rhythmically, murmuring to himself. 

And finally there is this skinny, old lady who reminds me of that Wendy’s commercial, “Where’s the beef?” It probably would take a cattle prod to snap her ass back to life.  

She is actually the most disturbing to look at. Her eyes are wide open. She hasn’t blinked in over a minute and there’s no emotion on her face at all. She’s completely in another world. She reminds me of Jamie when I’d beg for sex after Kennedy was born. I seriously have to go in and get a gander at this freak show. What’s the harm? I’ll turn this speaker up and put my recorder next to it.  Here we go.

“Test one. Two. Test one. Two.  This is Eddie Hansen getting ready join the cast of Trancing With The Stars!”

AUDIO LOG:                                           

THURSDAY DECEMBER 9, 2010 – 1:35 PM

RECEIVED BY MELODY SWANN:

This is the first set of audio recordings I received from Eddie on December 13. This was a few days after our first phone conversation.  He told me to write what I hear and assemble it so it makes sense. 

PLEASE NOTE:
 
I took this recording to the Beverly Hills Lingual Institute for translation and accuracy for the following transcript.

Melody: I hear a door slam shut. Now footsteps cross the room. Someone is moaning like they’re in a lot of pain. Another door just creaked open. I hear a man’s voice.

“Shhh! Quiet. Come. Sit down. You were supposed to wait.” 

“Why are we whispering, Reverend?” 

Melody: That was Eddie asking! The other man must be the priest Eddie told me about, because he called him Reverend. I hear Eddie pull up a chair. 

Now the priest explains. “They are in a deep meditative state. It’s dangerous if they come out of it improperly. Stay quiet and sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

Melody: It’s silent except for these snorts and moans I hear. Some sound sadistic. Some sexual. Some just painful. It’s been going on about a minute. This is weird.  Now I hear a woman’s voice. It’s raspy and sad and she is not speaking English.  She sounds like she’s dying or in tremendous pain as she cries out:

“Gno̱rízoume o énas ton állon”

“What was that?” Eddie asked.

The priest tells Eddie. “She’s speaking Greek.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said, ‘we know each other.”

“What?” Eddie asked. 

“Í̱moun mazí sas ótan Jamie Aristerá,” the old lady said.

“Feel free to translate,” Eddie tells the priest.

The priest moved. I hear his chair squeaking as he moves closer to Eddie. “I was with you when Jamie left.”

“Excuse me,” Eddie interrupted.

“Sto motél éxi sto San Ntiénko,” the old lady continues in her raspy voice.

“At the Motel Six in San Diego,” the priest tells Eddie.

“Nomízate óti tha érthei píso se sas”

“You thought she would come back to you.”

“Allá eseís me epélexe.”

“But you chose me.”

“Fuck you!” Eddie yelled back at the old lady.

Melody: I know that tone in Eddie’s voice. He’s gonna lose it. The priest just scolded him, “Sit down!” 

It sounds like something is about to go down. Somebody broke something. 

The priest warns, “Eddie, you have to respect them!” 

Melody: Something just banged hard! Like a chair was thrown. I hear the priest again!  “Control yourself! We’re not dealing with flesh, Eddie! Watch carefully.” 

The priest got up. I hear him grab something off a table. He’s got something clanging in his hand as he asks, “Gloria. May I speak with Gloria?”

“Den,” said that creepy old voice.

“I want to speak with Gloria”

“Den! To ónomá mou eínai Achlys.”

She said “No! ‘My name is Achlys,” the priest tells Eddie.

“Eímai dystychía.”

“I am misery,” translates the priest. 

“Sýntrofós sas Eddie”

“Your companion, Eddie”

“Aftó pou agapáte”

“The one you love.” The priest pauses before asking the old woman, “I want to speak with Gloria.”

“Den!!” she replied with a spiteful inflection. I think she spit on him.

The priest yells! “Achlys. Sto ónoma tou Iisoú, anachoroún apó aftín.”

Melody: That was the most disturbing sound I’ve ever heard. It ran right through me like acid in my stomach. The priest said, “In the name of Jesus, I command you to leave her.” 

My chest is burning. I feel sick to my stomach listening to this. It sounds like something is moving around, like a wind or a flapping noise, like a bird in the room with me here as I play this back. 

Now the priest says to Eddie, “The demon left her. She’s circling here. Feel the room change. Feel the air. It’s dry. Arid means its void of spiritual substance. Achlys can’t survive like this. She’s looking for a home. A mind to feed on… Gloria!” yelled the priest.

“Yes,” she answered in an expressionless monotone voice.

“Who are you?” commanded the priest.

“Gloria Casey King”

Melody: My laptop just shook. Like there’s some energy around it, or a power surge. I want to shut it off, but I can’t. I hit the power button but the laptop stays on. I tried to close this quicktime window but I get the spinning ball of death. The program froze and I still hear the priest. He’s talking to Eddie. 

“Feel that Eddie,” he said.

“What?” 

“She’s hovering over you,” the priest tells him.

Oh my God. It feels like something is in the room with me. Hovering over me. Watching me listen to this. I want to turn it off. But I can’t. I’m afraid to move. I feel something here with me. I feel like I better keep writing. I don’t know what that priest is doing but I wish he’d stop. It’s like I feel him moving through me. His voice is calm, but it terrifies me as he asks. “May I speak with Donald?”

“Yes,” says another voice.

“Who are you?” the priest commands.

“Donald Allen Lambeck.”

That man Donald, he sounds older.. His voice is slow and choppy. The priest is moving. Something is moving again. I hear it flapping around.

“May I speak with Timothy.”

“Yes,” said another voice. He sounds demented. His voice is sick, growling, like a rabid animal. 

“Who are you?” the priest asks.

“Timothy Nath- aaaaa. 

I hear him gasp for air. Like someone is choking him, it’s deep and guttural. Demented. I don’t want to listen anymore. His voice is rushing down my spine. I feel it penetrating me as he moans, “Kennedy den sas leípei”

My hair is standing up. It feels like his voice is right behind me in the room. Like it’s with me. It rips through me, charging down my spine. I got chills. My body is tightening up. Goosebumps jump off my arms and I want to scream. His voice hurts. As I listen I feel pain burning through my chest. And i can’t stop it as he groans,

“Kennedy chreiázetai éna pragmatikó patéra”

“What’d you say about Kennedy?” Eddie fumed.

Oh shit! Eddie’s pissed. I hear him breathing hard. He’s going to lose it.

“What the fuck did he say?” Eddie exploded.

“She said. It’s Achlys talking through him,” said the priest.

“Tell me what he said or I’ll smack it out of him,” Eddie ordered. 

There’s a moment of silence. I hear that voice hissing, Eddie’s breathing heavy. The priest finally tells him, “Kennedy doesn’t miss you. Kennedy needs a real father”

It almost sounds like venom hissing out as the voice continues,  “Kai Scott eínai ó, ti den eínai”

“And Scott is everything you are not,” the priest responds.

Den boreíte na deíte. Den agapás.

“Can’t you see. We don’t love you.”

Thé loume eseís dont sti̱ zo̱í̱ mas

We don’t want…

“Want you in our life!” Eddie screamed back finishing the priest’s sentence with a storm of violence. I hear screaming. They’re fighting. There’s a sick-shrieking sound like an animal dying or struggling to breathe. That priest is yelling in Greek. Something broke. It sounds bad. The priest is screaming at Eddie. “Stop! Stop!