Authors: Enrique Laso
Hell Calling (11 page)
‘Thank you Lord, thank you for helping your servant.’
With his breathing intermittent, he began to pray, relieved because his God had shown him once more his power over evil and his capacity to keep him safe. In spite of everything, he was still horrified by the image he had just been able to make out through the rear view mirror.
‘Those eyes!’
And then he understood. With a sixth sense that he attributed to a direct communion with the Most Holy, he was able to see and understand. The sky, obscured moments before by blackened storm clouds, opened up and left just light blue, tremendously beautiful and clean. And he realised instantly that he had to set off without a moment to spare.
‘I have to warn everyone involved, before it’s too late!’
XLIV
Elena entered her flat. She had spent the whole afternoon talking with Andrés, trying to find a meaning in what she had been experiencing over the course of the last few weeks. She had spent so long trying to have a
real
paranormal experience, but now that she had, she did not feel satisfied in the least. Rather, she felt terribly sad and empty.
She had taken the decision to not go to work for a few days, until she had recovered a certain equilibrium. Carlos’ story had been very powerful and, on top of that, she had become involved in it to the highest level. She should take things calmly.
Andrés had not been of much help to her, since he was even more confused than she was. On the one hand there were the tapes, but on the other, that was all they had. Carlos had said that the voice had been his wife Alicia’s, but nobody else had verified it. It could be to do with an EVP linked to another event, because the words uttered by the woman bore no relation at all to what he described was happening to him.
Elena opted to take a tranquiliser, and go to sleep: she’d spent many days running on only a few hours sleep, and her body was beginning to accumulate too much mental and physical overload. Although it was something she wished for, each time she lay down in bed she could not get the memory of Carlos out of her head. She even, on occasion, reached out for him. But Carlos was gone forever: he was dead.
Bzzzzz... Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii... Bzzzz...
‘What’s that sound?’
She looked towards her bedside table, and was able to ascertain that it was the little radio she usually carried around with her when she woke up in the mornings: whilst she had breakfast, whilst she showered, whilst she got dressed... But she had not turned it on.
‘Perhaps I forgot to turn it off this morning.’
Bzzzzz... Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii... Bzzzz...
That second series of little noises awakened something in her memory, leaving her glued to the bed with terror, incapable of moving a single muscle.
‘It’s the same sound we got on the EVP recorder; the sound that Carlos described to me so often.’
Petrified in her own bed, and unable to even scream for help, she listened as her radio searched with the dial
by itself
, passing rapidly from one station to the other, without stopping on any.
‘Oh my God!’
The radio stopped its demented course, as if it had now found the exact frequency. There was a brief silence, during which the only thing she could do was control her breathing, gripped by fear. All of a sudden, Carlos’ voice came out of the small device:
“Elena... Help me... I’M IN HELL!”
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