The First Betrayal (6 page)

Chapter Twenty Five

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The trees were closing in, trying to pull her into their grasp. The naked limbs pale and ghostly, made an eerie noise, like dried brittle bones chaffing each other. She ran on, blind with panic and tears. Her screams were indistinguishable from the owls own screams, as they derided her from the safety of the malevolent trees. Unexpectedly, the way ahead was clear and the trees had receded behind her. A house appeared, as if from nowhere. The lights were on, welcoming her from within. She knocked on the door, frantically looking behind her, expecting someone or something to be there. The door opened, but no one stood behind it. Convincing herself that the door had already been ajar, and with little choice, she entered.

‘Hello is anyone home. I’m sorry to intrude but I need help. I think someone is following me. Hello.’ No one answered, so she continued down the hall. Faint music drifted from a room near the bottom of the long hall. Passing dark and closed doors, she reached the music and knocked again. Still no answer, so with a little trepidation, she turned the knob, and peeked around the door. A log fire burned in the grate, a pile of logs stacked beside it. A delicious smell of burning wood hung in the room. The music was coming from a beautiful gramophone, a vinyl record spinning under the needle. Over stuffed chintz chairs, crowded the floor and an impressive mahogany sideboard dominated the wall under the window. The top of the cabinet was covered in photographs in ornate frames. They held a life story of a young girl, who grew into a stunningly beautiful woman. Some included a handsome man, whose hair turned grey through the years, while the beautiful woman’s stayed the same vibrant red. The years hadn’t diminished her beauty, but had only added to it, and judging by the absence of the handsome man, she guessed he had passed on. Over the fireplace mantle, hung a portrait, the woman was so much more beautiful than in the photographs. Her beauty, not exaggerated by watercolours, but more amplified by its sensual strokes. It gave the impression of an angel afloat above ground.

She stood transfixed by her, the red tresses, teased and pulled up in a loose, casual way. Tied in back with one could imagine, an antique bejewelled clasp. A clasp that would undoubtedly match the extravagant amber necklace and drop earrings that adorned her. The face was bewitching, seemingly looking at the artist, but actually looking beyond, thinking or dreaming of someone or somewhere else. The dress was golden brown, brown, seems like such a dour colour, but this was gilded almost, the threads glimmering on the canvas. Like the season, it was autumnal in its simplistic, yet lavish setting. The threads alive in the intricacy of the fabric. 

A noise startled her, and dragging her gaze away looked toward the door. Hinges creaked as it opened, and in floated the lady from the pictures.

‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to greet you, I do like to welcome my guests personally. You were looking at my picture, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry for intruding, but your door was open and I thought I was being followed. I hope you don’t mind, but this room drew me in. Your pictures don’t do you justice.’

‘Well thank you so much my dear. Come and sit, let me show you my albums, I was quite something you know.’

They sat together pouring over old memories, the fire dwindling in the grate. Apart from the crackling of the wood embers, the only sound was the strange mysterious woman recounting her life story. Strangeness surrounded the whole situation. They hadn’t imparted names, and neither one seemed inclined to be forthcoming. It was if they didn’t need introducing, happy in their own company, without acknowledging who they were.

Chapter Twenty Six

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The noise was muffled, but persistent and intrusive. Eventually Vera’s subconscious became aware that her phone was ringing, and she stretched her hand out to lift the receiver. ’Yes, what is it; ok slow down, what’s wrong with the residents? Look your talking gibberish, Ill be there in a few minutes to see for myself. ’Shaking off the nightmare, Vera showered and dressed and decided after last nights scare, that she would drive her mothers old car to work. She spent the time on the drive trying to decipher her dream. Before coming to grips with any of it, she was at the home and pulling into her spot. Luckily, there was a rail to stop her car, because she was so focused on the residents walking and skipping around the grounds. 'What the hell is going on, last night these people couldn’t even get around using a walker aid.'

In a daze, Vera made her way to the reception area, heckled and jeered by what should have been the equivalent of half-dead geriatrics. ‘Look at us Vera.’  ‘We can move quicker than you Vera.’  ‘It’s a miracle Ve; God must have taken pity on us.’ Vera could only wave at them, too stunned to do or say anything. Jane, the physio, was standing at the door, waiting for her and watching with a look of disbelief and happiness on her face, as her patients frolicked like young lambs. 

‘It’s a miracle Vera, just look at them. I came in early to give Ezra some extra physic for his hip and this is what I found. The ones I could get to stand still long enough to talk to, said they woke this morning with this amazing energy, and somehow knew that they could walk, dance or do anything they wanted to do.’

‘I see it but I’m not sure I believe it. What happened between last night and this morning? Does anyone else have any idea what went on?’

‘Well Vera, they all say that after the meal and games with that 'friend' of yours, they went to the pool and then to bed. Nothing happened after that, that anyone remembers being out of the ordinary. They think your 'friend' is a messenger from God, here to square things up.’

‘For one thing Jane, Adam is not my 'friend', he is just someone looking for a lost relative. Secondly, there is no such thing as a miracle. Come on Jane, you don’t really buy into that rubbish, do you,

What’s your reasoning, aliens came, put magic powers in the hydro pool, and now we have cocoon. Come on Jane, be serious.’

‘Ok “Vera', you give me a reasonable exclamation for what you are seeing with your own eyes. You tell me how you can explain this.’ Jane gestured to the gardens with an exaggerated flourish of her arms ‘Well Vera, explain that.’

‘I haven’t time for this, and you watch too many movies. Ill be inside trying to make sense of this. Now please Jane, get everyone together for role call. We don’t want these old fools getting loose and escaping.’ Vera knew she was being unreasonable and unkind, but the circumstances were outrageous and unbelievable and she didn’t take kindly to nonsense. For god’s sake, she knew better than to believe such delusions. Vera called her staff together and demanded answers for the mornings events, but she didn’t get anything satisfactory. Each staff member had the same response. Vera herself had seen them going to the pool, and knew they went to bed afterwards, but what occurred between then, she hadn’t a clue. Logic dictated something she couldn’t make logical.

Chapter Twenty Seven

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Stephen woke early, knowing the scene he was going to was awful.  He had dozed rather than slept in a series of minutes as opposed to hours. Every hour on the clock blinked in that smug, 'I know you can’t sleep' way, as he pushed every gruesome image back in his minds drawer.  

Managing to get himself together, he left at 10am, his stomach churning at the thought of seeing someone he considered a friend, in such a heart breaking way.

. . . . .

The community bus left the residential home at 10am. One of the residents had called a meeting that morning in the breakfast room, and suggested catching the ferry to the mainland for a day out.

‘Listen everyone, this miracle that has happened to us is bloody wonderful, but lets face facts, we could wake tomorrow morning and have reverted back to our old bodies, with their old degenerative ways. So I think we should make the most of this anomaly and head to the mainland for some fun. We could visit family or friends, or really have some fun and go to the pub, have a nice meal in a nice restaurant, go skinny dipping in the freezing cold water and eat some candy floss, really give our cholesterol something to worry about. What do you say?’

It took mere seconds before they all shouted, ’Lets do it.’  After much coercion and some home truths about who pays who, Vera had to relent and phone the bus, but not before threatening them all with calls to their relatives. That couldn’t diminish their excitement, and they ran, skipped and danced away to get ready for their big day of unexpected adventure.

Chapter Twenty Eight

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Saturday mornings for Mike, were a ritual of honing his sermon, making sure his vestments were clean and pressed, and preparing the church for its Sunday mass. Times had changed, not enough worshipers for Saturday evening service, no housekeeper to clean and dress the alter, which meant doing for himself. He polished his own chalices, replaced the candles and if lucky enough to receive flowers from his few generous parishioners, arranged them in his own haphazard way. These duties were normally soothing at the best of times, but today especially, they were a very welcome distraction from his personal demons and sleep deprived state of mind.   

At 10am, Mike knelt before Gods alter, he prayed for insight into the unprecedented lapse in his celibacy, even if it was unwilling. He begged forgiveness and understanding from his Almighty God, and promised new dedication of his vows. A ringing phone disrupted Father Mike’s devotions, rousing him into the real world.  He made it back to the house before it rang off. As Stephen pulled up outside the church, again, Mike was ready. ’Why didn’t you call me last night’ Mike asked a little put out.

‘I was tempted to, but it really was too late, and after the last couple of days, I reckoned you needed the time off.’

‘Dead bodies, even friends dead bodies, would have been preferable to my big seduction.’ Mike went on to explain what had happened and finished with a sign of the cross. He wiped sweat from his forehead and sighed with relief at telling his friend his latest drama. Stephen was stunned into silence for a few seconds, but soon came around to tell Mike that it sounded to him like a set up.

‘I’m not saying that your not desirable, or indeed every girls wanton dream, but let me ask you, has anything like this happened before?’

‘No, but it only takes one, doesn’t it?’

‘Now your egos talking, I never knew you had one Father Mike. Now you listen to me, something is off here and I think your Evelyn is up to no good. She has singled you out for a reason, and I would like to know why. Maybe she has something to do with all the craziness that’s been happening around here this last while. I don’t share in your paranoid belief of evil, but I have to admit since she came on to the island, people have died and in terrible ways. ’

‘Do you really believe Evelyn could be responsible for the wickedness here, I mean why, and what possible reason could she have?’

Stephen thought for a while, but his mind wasn’t capable of working out such a complicated thought on so little sleep.   

The rain from last night ran like streams down either side of the road.

Chapter Twenty Nine

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The wind had been unkind to the trees, and undressed them with no care or kindness. Their leaves gathered with the momentum of the water and rushed away on a final journey to clog the sewer drains. The surfaces drying under the still warm sun.

Stephen and Mike waited at the hotel for the police, but after a half hour decided to leave a message at reception and go to the house. Dr Bell was already there, and in a foul mood having had to wait.

‘Come along, I have patients to see you know.’ Stephen and Mike both apologised for the delay and Stephen led them into the TV room.

‘Jesus H Christ, sorry Father, but bloody hell. What got into the girl?’

‘I don’t know Doctor, there was no note that I could see, but I didn’t really stay too long.’ Stephen shuddered at the now grey features of Jim. The body was starting to decompose and the smell was bearable, but it wouldn’t be for long.

‘The other one is upstairs in the bath, you said?’ Not waiting for a reply the Doc went off on his own.

‘All right buddy, not pleasant is it?’

‘What’s going on here Stephen? Gladys was such a happy soul, not homicidal or suicidal, not someone who could do this.’  Mike didn’t require an answer, and didn’t wait for one. He followed Dr Bell up the stairs to the second scene, dumbfounded at the sight of Gladys’s drained and wrinkled remains. 

‘I’ve called the undertaker to collect the bodies; we can’t leave them here any longer. For Gods sake their beginning to smell.’  Dr Bell announced as he descended the stairs. ‘Take some pictures to show the police if necessary, but we simply cant wait. Gladys, bless her, will dissolve into soup if we leave her any longer.’

‘Thanks Doc, like I needed any more disturbing images in my head. But I get your graphic point. Ill take the pictures while we wait for the hearses, you can get on if you want.’

‘Yes, boils to lance and snotty children to de-mucus, you stay and have all the fun here, but Stephen, get Father Mike out of here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s handling this too well. Right, I’m off.’

Stephen watched with a mixture of mild amusement and a little nausea. He was holding it together with his customary cynical and blaze sense of rational behaviour. He called to Mike, anxious to get him out of there, Dr Bell had spooked him good. He was worried about Mike, and had a sudden and intense need to get him away from this latest terrible horror.  

With all the atrocities happening on his doorstep, and in Mikes own parish, Stephen sensed Mikes weakness, the ungodly and unexpected things that kept occurring, and the arrival of a seductress intent on appealing to his unknown and until now unwitting sexuality, could lead to Mikes celibate surrender.

Mike was understandably gun shy and barely coherent when Stephen extracted himself from the house. He kept mumbling The Hail Mary,

Over and over, Stephen wasn’t sure, if it was Gladys and Jim that he was praying for, or if he was praying for the sanctity of his own soul. After the third Hail Mary, he slapped Mike, hard, not easy to do when you’re driving, but it worked. Mike stopped, and after a few silent moments came around to himself. 

‘Sorry mate, don’t know what came over me. That last one was my undoing. I don’t know how much more ugliness I can take. Every day seems to bring more bloody awfulness.’

‘I know Mike, Gladys was a friend, and its unbearable to see her and her husband like that, but, its happened and we have to deal with it. Losing the plot isn’t going to make things any better. I am going to take you back to mine, and you can keep Chequers company while I go to the funeral home to take care of the paperwork. Someone needs to sign off on the identity of the bodies.’

‘Did you know Jim?’

‘Not very well, just to say hi to and pass the time of day with. He wasn’t what you would call overly friendly, but Gladys made up for that. She sure was a fire cracker.’ Stephen’s voice cracked with emotion, and drove on in quiet reflection.

He dropped Father Mike off at his house, to the great delight of a lonely Chequers, and drove back to town, to Fox’s funeral home.

With a large slug from the whiskey flask he kept in the glove box, Stephen went inside the last place anyone wants to be. The entrance was lovely, filled with sweet smelling fresh flowers, interspersed with almost life like plastic ones. Mr Fox, a caricature of a cartoon character, led him through to the treatment room. And, it was no spa treatment room. The smell assaulted his unwitting senses, burning the nose hairs on its way down to his throat. The burnt flesh smell never gets old, and it was in no danger of doing that, as it assailed all before it. He could taste the choking chemicals, and his eyes watered from the fumes. 'They should get danger money working here, he coughed to himself'. The room was cold, obviously, and a metal table dominated the sterile space. A smaller metal table on wheels was close by; it had an array of disturbing medical paraphernalia on it, with tubes and syringes adding to its macabreness.

. . . . .

Mr Fox was very kind and very graphic in his description of the procedure to extract bodily fluids, and disposal of, and then to introduce new embalming fluids in through the body’s orifices. If Stephen ever needed to induce vomit again, it wouldn’t be hard. Mr Fox proceeded to explain how they secured these orifices from leakage, this included, a stitched up anus, gluing eyes shut in case of skin shrinkage and inopportune lid movement. Stitching together lips to avoid mouth drop-page, and nasal passages plugged for obvious reasons, were grossly necessary, but mind bendingly disturbing. 

Stephen knew the score, but didn’t really need to know the tune., Wow. Horror reels were playing in his head. He didn’t need to know any more. He needed to get the hell out of there, and fast. He thanked Mr Fox, signed the necessary paperwork and left Gladys and Jim in his grisly care.