Seven-X (9 page)
So Jesus knocks out this evil spirit and it gets pissed and goes to find seven more demons tougher than it to come back and take over that person again. Take back home court advantage. It makes sense. It’s the law of the streets. You get pushed off your turf, go back and get reinforcements.
Any schoolyard kid knows there’s power in a gang, power in numbers. Even a cop calls for backup when he needs to take someone down.
Billings wanted me to see this, because he knows how reporters think and work. This means something. I guarantee you that. I’m going to circle this and call it:
“SEVEN-X.”
Seven times the evil returned. That’s a good horror movie right there.
You know what is weird. Both reporters used the same word Billings used, “arid.”
The air was really dry in that room yesterday, and when I woke up from that nightmare, I felt a brush of cold dry air run through me like a winter storm.
I could feel something moving around me in the dark. I thought it was just me being paranoid. Could it really have been a demon? I don’t know. I didn’t see anything.
Your mind runs wild when you’re trapped alone in a room like that for so long. It plays tricks on you.
But what if these demons are real, not fictitious characters like vampires or zombies or werewolves. If demons are real and not some expression we throw around the media, then I got some things to think about in this case. I’ve got to make sense of it all.
I better get on the road. It’s a long drive and I need to get a lot done today. Tonight is going to be interesting.
AUDIO LOG
FRIDAY DECEMBER 10, 2010 - 11:21 AM
ENTERED BY MELODY SWANN
This is my transcript of the first phone call I received from Eddie on December 10
th
. He sent this with the first batch of recordings. It feels weird listening to myself. This is Eddie talking.
“It’s Eddie, December eighth. About eleven am. I’m in Dell City parked in front of the post office. I finally got a clear cell signal so I’m gonna call Melody to let her know I’m okay and I’m sending out the tapes… It’s ringing… Mel. Hey baby. It’s me.”
“God Eddie. What took you so long to call? I was worried.”
“I’m way out in the boonies here. We got no cell reception. You got to see this place,” Eddie told me.
“Where are you?” I asked him.
“Dell City. I’m sending you a thumb drive with my notes and recordings.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Your voice sounds different.”
“I think I’m catching a cold. It’s freezing here at night.”
“You sound disconnected.”
“Maybe it’s my cell. I’ll step outside. Hear me now?”
“Better,” I told him.
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“Tyler is here!” Eddie said excitedly.
“What? You’re kidding me. Baby, that’s huge.”
“I know. It’s bigger than we thought. Dobson too. But they got her under lock and key somewhere. This place is a freak fest.”
“Be careful,” I warned Eddie.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “And don’t freak out about this stuff when you get it. Okay? You’re gonna hear some whacked out shit. It’s just a show. You got that. It’s just a show.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling worry crawl over me.
“Remember when we saw The Last Exorcism?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well it’s like that. These guys put on a dog and pony show to get money from someone. Probably from the state or some medical company.”
“Don’t mess around with this.”
“Baby, I’m fine.”
“Eddie!”
“Mel, I’m okay… Alright.”
“Alright… I get worried,” I told him.
“Well don’t.”
“Okay,” I said, not meaning it. I worry. I can’t help it.
Eddie continued: “Mel I need you to translate some stuff for me. There’s this crazy old lady that speaks Greek. I want to know what she said. I don’t trust the doctors. I think they tell me what they want me to hear. Okay.”
“Okay.”
“As fast as you can. On my notes too, there’s some writing. Figure out what it says and get back to me.”
After a moment of silence, I told Eddie, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, baby.”
“I’m singing tonight. I’m gonna do Lonestar, for you.”
“I love that one. Sing it for me baby,” Eddie asked.
I can’t resist singing for Eddie, so I started.
“Every time our eyes meet,
This feeling inside me.
Is almost more than I can take.”
As I was singing, I heard something bang hard and Eddie yell, “Hey!”
“What! Eddie, what was that?” I asked.
“Some punk kid’s at my car,” he told me as I heard him running.
“You okay?”
“Get out of here!” he yelled. “Hey! Get the fuck away from my car!”
He dropped the phone or slammed it down. I called out, “Eddie? Eddie!” then lost reception.
That was it. I received the drive and what you’ve read so far is exactly how Eddie wanted it. I had everything translated and per Eddie’s note I will continue to assemble his journal and recordings by date.
JOURNAL ENTRY:
FRIDAY DECEMBER 10, 2010 - 1:30 PM
Freak Fest continues. Some weird, little punk kid threw a deer’s heart on my windshield while I was at the Post Office in Dell City this morning. I chased him down and tackled him before he could get inside the diner next door.
He was about fifteen, sixteen years old, dressed all Goth with black eyeliner and streaked, black and white hair. His hands were covered in deer blood so naturally we made quite a scene outside with him screaming “You’re marked!” over and over as he swiped the blood on my face and jacket while I held him down. Within a few minutes the town Sheriff arrived.
Officer Prick actually let the punk go and warned me about coming into his town and causing trouble.
When I told him I was staying in Uphir as a guest of Dr. Haworth, he said “ he didn’t want to see me around these parts anymore” and “wasn’t going to clean up another mess.” Whatever that meant.
Now I’m the freak trying to cover up my blood stained sweater as my jacket sits in the car and I sit in the lobby of
Precision Camera,
waiting for the technician Bobby to get my camera fixed. You ever just have that feeling that you’re caught in something that you can’t get out of. I’m so close to getting this story and it’s one thing after another, distracting me, pulling me down.
My nerves are frazzled right now. Maybe it’s the repetitive cycle of corny Christmas music playing. Or the fact I’ve been sitting here over an hour. Maybe it was spending the night in a padded cell.
Or Dr. Haworth’s calm, even voice echoing in my head all the bullshit he’s been feeding me.
Or Tyler’s scar filled face or Dobson’s screams that kept me up all night. Or the way my childhood memories seem to swirl in the air, before pouring out someone else’s mouth.
Or is it this annoying kid in front of me, squealing while his stressed out mom is trying to figure out how to work a fucking camera. Or Cowboy Jim here to my left, who wants to know the difference between HD and HDV, like he’s actually going to buy the camera and do something with it. Or the sound of the bells on the door that jingle with each idiot who makes his way in and out of this place. Or the squeaking of wet boots across the dirty tiled floor, and the rush of cold air that sweeps across me as the door jangles open and shut. Open and shut. Open and shut. Open and shut.
Maybe it’s the sound of my own breathing and the clicking of keys on the keyboard, as I pound out these words in a flurry of strokes. Or is it the smell of day old coffee and bodily fluids that drip like a leaky faucet out of this old geezer next to me. If he sneezes on me one more time, I’m going to kill him.
Maybe that’s what’s making me crazy! Maybe that’s what makes me feel like I want to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs.
Or take this chair and smash it across the face of the next person who says, “Happy Holidays,” with a fake I don’t want to work in this shit hole smile. Maybe we’re all holding back. Holding on, hoping that nothing happens this happy day to push us over the edge.
I’m not the only one with this look in my eye. I see it a thousand times a day in a thousand different ways, masquerading itself in fake smiles, exhausted eyes, slumped shoulders and voices that crack before feigning that happy tone that says, “I’m fine and how are you?”
So you know what I’m going to do. I’m going to stand up, shut this computer off, take a deep breath of cold air outside, and wait patiently for this problem to get fixed.
Then I’ll move on to my next problem and smile and joke like it’s any other day.
VIDEO LOG:
FRIDAY DECEMBER 10, 2010 - 3:13 PM
ENTERED BY MELODY SWANN
This is first recording in the second batch that Eddie sent me. I’ll describe what I see. Someone is pointing the camera in a workshop or computer place or store.
“Alright. Test. Test. You working now. Let’s see…
Play it back and…
“Alright. Test. Test. You working now. Let’s see…
Perfect! I got it!
Melody: He spins the camera to his face. It’s some dorky kid, about 25. He looks like Jesse Eisenberg from “The Social Network.”
Kid: “I’m the king! Yeah baby! Put that on your show Eddie. I should have my own reality show. Bobby Ray, master of repair, or Precision Master. I like that. The Fix It Man. That’s it! The Fix It Man! Bobby Ray the Fix It Man, on TLC!”
Melody: He turned the camera around and is walking out the door. I see Eddie sitting. He’s pointing the camera at Eddie as he says, “Yo Eddie! Hey man, good as new!”
Eddie walks toward the camera. He looks tired, asking, “Thanks. What I owe ya?”
“Three forty-nine,” the kid tells him.
“What?” Eddie asks, shocked.
“You should see your face, bro. I had to put on a whole new plate. You’re only paying for the part. I’m giving you a deal.
“Thanks.”
“What’d you do? Pound a nail into this with a sledge hammer.”
“What? No!” Eddie tells him.
The kid points at the camera and shows Eddie. “Something got a hold of this. Pushed the whole end in. Nobody’s hand could do that. You’d need like a fucking dinosaur claw or something to do that shit. Put that much pressure on it! A vice grip. Fucking Transformers or something. Terminator bro!”
“Let me see,” Eddie asks as he picks up the broken piece and puts it in front of the camera. “It looks like a claw mark. It’s deep,” Eddie tells the kid.
“Dude. Maybe a bear stepped on it?”
“Maybe?” Eddie answers. “Did you get the flash card out?”
“There’s no card in there.”
“You sure? I had one.”
“Positive man, there’s no way, you could get it out, unless you took off this plate, see,” the kid says as he turned off the camera.
Melody: That mark on the plate was huge. Some kind of animal did that. Maybe it could be the same thing that bit the leg of that Spanish guy. He must have taken Eddie’s camera. Maybe he sent that flash card too. I just heard Eddie say it was missing. I wish I knew this when I talked to him. I could have warned Eddie about that. Who knows when I’ll hear from him again. I’m worried.
JOURNAL ENTRY:
FRIDAY DECEMBER 10, 2010 - 7:30 PM
I’m sitting at the crossroads. Actually it’s Denny’s just off Interstate 10. But I feel like it’s my crossroad, because I’m looking east and west and don’t know which way to go. Eight Hundred miles to my left is home safe home. I got some answers and a gut feeling telling me to leave now.
I peer to the right and see my future. I can’t explain what’s calling me to the right. It’s a powerful force that can’t say no to what I know is not good for me.
Maybe it’s my voracious appetite. Curiosity that killed the cat. Hidden danger. The excitement of pushing the boundaries. Riding the line of right and wrong, life and death.
My extreme nature calls. The bungee jumper. The party animal. The guy who hates speed limits and caution tape. He’s here and he wants satisfaction.
Ten years ago I thought I was invincible. But age has a way of gouging mortality and the body has a way of saying you can’t do that anymore. But we keep trying, feeding this youthful impulse for energy and attention. And I know right now I’m starving for something. I can’t get full today.
I just ordered meatloaf after pounding out a plate of chicken strips and a mushroom-Swiss burger. I never eat like this, but I’m famished. I want to eat like a dog. Stuff myself silly. Drink until I fall down and bang that hottie across from me until her eyeballs pop. I want to please every primal urge in my body.
And I want it — NOW!
Why not test my luck? Spend tonight in the twenty-first century. Indulge in the good life while I still have it, and let tomorrow figure itself out as I ride back in time.
AUDIO LOG/ JOURNAL ENTRY
SATURDAY DECEMBER 11, 2010 – 11:03 AM
Last thing I remember, I was about halfway through my meatloaf when I looked up and saw that angelic creature standing in front of me. She had long black hair and cat green eyes. She looked about twenty-five, with a killer body. She was wearing these tight red pants and a low cut candy cane sweater that made me want to lick the peppermint off her.
For some reason I pulled out my recorder and tried to think of something clever, but before I could, she stunned me saying, “You ever find yourself drawn to someone?”
“Yeah,” was all I could mutter, inhaling her like a deep breath of warm, sunshine.
“Deeper than physical attraction,” she said, moving in closer.