him.
The memories of his mother had been fading recently, but she now came to him and spoke in her soft way, with a voice pure as starlight. Her loving face shone and exuded warmth, like a soft blanket that covered him and protected him from the monster. She positively glowed, shrouded in unimaginable light.
The bad man interrupted Alex's vision. "If you see the light, be joyful that I have delivered you. If you see the fire, then know that we shall meet again, and together we shall dance the long death through the eternal flames, for those I have chosen as my own."
The mean man held up the knife for one final inspection. Alex clenched his eyes shut. He wanted to see only the happy memories. He prayed to a God in whom he trusted despite the severe punishment he faced. He didn't understand, but calm enveloped him, and again a warm light embraced him, so comforting that he forgot the threat he faced in this terrible place.
Although a mere flash in his mind, it felt to Alex like a long escape.
He relived every happy experience of his short life, more numerous than he'd realized. Aware of his memories as never before, he rejoiced as his mind opened up in ways unimaginable. His mother, laughing and loving, doted over the baby Alex as if he were the only important thing in the entire world. His big brother bragged to all his friends about his baby brother.
Searing heat and a brief explosion of pain ripped through him, but it vanished a moment after it began.
In that flash, Alex's heart and mind knew only the miracle of joy, only the light and warmth that remained. A gentle presence assured him everything would be okay. He didn't understand, but he knew he was home.
Where are we going, Mommy?
***
"Fuck!" Mitchell's anger rocketed. "Don't die on me, you little shit!"
He'd botched it. Where were the torture, agony and misery? He'd thrust the knife in too deeply and in the wrong location. The boy had died instantly—no wild screams, no painful grimaces, nothing!
"Fuck a rubber duck, what have I done?"
He puckered in fear and awaited the wrath of the demon.
In that instant, the old Mitchell Norton returned. He stood over the boy's blood-soaked body, clutched a blood-soaked knife, and imagined his own blood-soaked punishment.
He sought desperately to make amends. Although the boy was dead, perhaps Mitchell could still please the demon with his next act. Then he could feed his new friend, the Beast.
That might satisfy the Reaper.
Chapter 21 – May 21, 1978: Reports, Rumors and Re-Enactments
The chief pulled a photo of Alex Hooper from a file on the front passenger seat, and shuffled around back to grab hip-waders and rubber gloves from the trunk of the cruiser. His "witness" could barely catch his breath as he introduced himself.
Lou Pratt led him down a path toward the river, explaining as they walked the events that had transpired. When he came to the part about spotting the boy, he stopped and turned. "God in Heaven, Chief, it's sure an awful sight."
Usually is , the chief thought, and nodded as they continued down the path to the small tributary. The smell of fresh vomit assaulted him, and he spotted the unpleasant source. Lou walked past it without a glance or a word, probably embarrassed by it.
No need, Chief Radlon thought. Nothing wrong with being human during—especially during—inhuman events.
Lou stopped before the water's edge and pointed toward the spot.
The chief looked but couldn't see anything through the sunlight reflecting off the surface. He squinted, focused, concentrated on the shallow depths....
The body came into view.
Doc Wenthal called out at that precise instant, and startled him such that he nearly jumped out of his shoes. He took minor satisfaction in noting that Lou had also leapt at the intrusion; at least he wasn't the only one on a razor's edge. He was supposed to be the professional, however.
He called back and waited a few seconds until the doctor arrived. "Over here,
The memories of his mother had been fading recently, but she now came to him and spoke in her soft way, with a voice pure as starlight. Her loving face shone and exuded warmth, like a soft blanket that covered him and protected him from the monster. She positively glowed, shrouded in unimaginable light.
The bad man interrupted Alex's vision. "If you see the light, be joyful that I have delivered you. If you see the fire, then know that we shall meet again, and together we shall dance the long death through the eternal flames, for those I have chosen as my own."
The mean man held up the knife for one final inspection. Alex clenched his eyes shut. He wanted to see only the happy memories. He prayed to a God in whom he trusted despite the severe punishment he faced. He didn't understand, but calm enveloped him, and again a warm light embraced him, so comforting that he forgot the threat he faced in this terrible place.
Although a mere flash in his mind, it felt to Alex like a long escape.
He relived every happy experience of his short life, more numerous than he'd realized. Aware of his memories as never before, he rejoiced as his mind opened up in ways unimaginable. His mother, laughing and loving, doted over the baby Alex as if he were the only important thing in the entire world. His big brother bragged to all his friends about his baby brother.
Searing heat and a brief explosion of pain ripped through him, but it vanished a moment after it began.
In that flash, Alex's heart and mind knew only the miracle of joy, only the light and warmth that remained. A gentle presence assured him everything would be okay. He didn't understand, but he knew he was home.
Where are we going, Mommy?
***
"Fuck!" Mitchell's anger rocketed. "Don't die on me, you little shit!"
He'd botched it. Where were the torture, agony and misery? He'd thrust the knife in too deeply and in the wrong location. The boy had died instantly—no wild screams, no painful grimaces, nothing!
"Fuck a rubber duck, what have I done?"
He puckered in fear and awaited the wrath of the demon.
In that instant, the old Mitchell Norton returned. He stood over the boy's blood-soaked body, clutched a blood-soaked knife, and imagined his own blood-soaked punishment.
He sought desperately to make amends. Although the boy was dead, perhaps Mitchell could still please the demon with his next act. Then he could feed his new friend, the Beast.
That might satisfy the Reaper.
Chapter 21 – May 21, 1978: Reports, Rumors and Re-Enactments
The chief pulled a photo of Alex Hooper from a file on the front passenger seat, and shuffled around back to grab hip-waders and rubber gloves from the trunk of the cruiser. His "witness" could barely catch his breath as he introduced himself.
Lou Pratt led him down a path toward the river, explaining as they walked the events that had transpired. When he came to the part about spotting the boy, he stopped and turned. "God in Heaven, Chief, it's sure an awful sight."
Usually is , the chief thought, and nodded as they continued down the path to the small tributary. The smell of fresh vomit assaulted him, and he spotted the unpleasant source. Lou walked past it without a glance or a word, probably embarrassed by it.
No need, Chief Radlon thought. Nothing wrong with being human during—especially during—inhuman events.
Lou stopped before the water's edge and pointed toward the spot.
The chief looked but couldn't see anything through the sunlight reflecting off the surface. He squinted, focused, concentrated on the shallow depths....
The body came into view.
Doc Wenthal called out at that precise instant, and startled him such that he nearly jumped out of his shoes. He took minor satisfaction in noting that Lou had also leapt at the intrusion; at least he wasn't the only one on a razor's edge. He was supposed to be the professional, however.
He called back and waited a few seconds until the doctor arrived. "Over here,
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