Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (30 page)

Tim
forgot his promise not to say anything.  He couldn’t help himself and  shouted
out,  “What do you want Sammie, or Chamuel, or whoever I’m speaking to? 
Everyone around you is dead, and to me it sounds like you don’t even care. 
What is it you’re trying to achieve?”

Sammie
giggled at Tim.  “I’m just trying to grow up.”

Angela
shot a scowl at Tim before returning her focus back to Sammie.  “Why do you
want to grow up, Sammie?  You’re just a boy.”

“But
I’m going to be so much more than that.”

“What
do you mean?”

Sammie
shrugged his bony shoulders.  “Haven’t you heard?  I now control Black Remedy
Corporation.  I even own the house you’re standing in.”

Tim
couldn’t help himself again.  “Sammie, you mother isn’t even cold yet and
you’re talking about your inheritance.”

Angela
shot him another scornful look but he didn’t care.  He was tired of acting like
the kid in front of him wasn’t responsible for everything that had happened –
all of the death.

Sammie
looked pitiful.  “Why are you so angry with me, Tim?”  Then his expression
transformed into one of contempt.  “Is it because you’re a coward and taking
out your rage on a young boy is all you’re capable of?”

“You
know nothing about me.”  Tim felt himself spit the words.  “Nothing”

“We’ll
see,” said Sammie.  “I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity to prove your
lack of courage.”

Tim
took a step forward, but Frank placed a hand against his chest.  A moment
later, Tim was glad of it because he wasn’t sure what he would have done anyway.

“Enough
of this,” Angela scolded.  “I told you to be quiet, Tim.”

Sammie
grinned.  “Yes, Tim.  Do as the lesbian tells you.”

Tim
bit his lip.  He was doing exactly what he meant not to do: he was letting
Sammie get to him – inside his head.

Take
a breath.  Calm down.  Keep your eye on the ball.

Tim
stepped backwards until his back was against the wall.  He leaned against it
and folded his arms.  “Just get on with it,” he said to Angela.  “I’m starting
to get bored.”

Angela
sighed and turned back to the boy in his bed.  “Sammie?  I’m going to ask you
something and you’re not going to like it, but if you agree to it then
everything will be a lot safer for everybody.”

Sammie
raised an eyebrow and actually seemed concerned.  “What?”

“I
want to tie you down to the bed.  It will be for your own good.”

“No.”

“Sammie…”

“I
said no.  Nobody is touching me.”

Angela
looked at Frank who was staring right back at her.  Tim could see that the man
did not approve.  “What are you playing at?” he asked.

“I
need to make sure Sammie is secure before I get started.  It may get very
physical and I don’t want him hurting himself, or us.”

“Nobody
is touching me,” Sammie said again more loudly than before.

“Frank,
we need to do this.  I can’t do it without your help.”

Frank
shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his palms.  “Okay,” he said.  “Hold
him down.”

Angela
looked at Tim and he knew what she was asking of him.  He shook his head and
cursed under his breath.  “Okay, hell, let’s get it over with.”

Tim
took the left side of Sammie’s bed while Angela took the right side.  In unison
they grabbed each of Sammie’s arms.  The boy screamed, thrashing back and forth
like a beached shark.  His bruised legs kicked out at them viciously.

“Keep
hold of him,” said Frank, who had rushed over to the room’s bay window.  He was
reaching for the ties that kept the curtains open.

“Hurry
up,” Tim huffed.  “This kid is stronger than he looks.”

Sammie
screeched louder. Thick wads of spittle flew from his gnashing teeth.  Tim
struggled to hold onto his sweat-drenched arm.  It seemed like Angela, too, was
close to letting go.

Frank
came running over with the curtains ties and quickly wrapped one around the arm
that Angela was wrestling with.  He managed to yank Sammie’s left arm towards
the bed post and tie a double knot in the thick curtain cord.  Just as he
managed to get the one arm secured, though, Tim’s grip finally gave out and
Sammie broke free.

Sammie
twisted his body towards Tim and lashed out with his teeth.  His jaws clamped
down on Tim’s hand.

“Fuck! 
Get him off me!”  The crushing force on Tim’s hand was like a tightening vice. 
He felt the bones threaten to crack and splinter beneath his tearing flesh. 
The pain was so intense that it flittered rapidly between numbness and full
blown agony as his nervous system tried to cope.

Frank
leapt up onto the bed and straddled Sammie’s waist.  He clutched at the boy’s
shoulder and tried to pull him away from Tim, but his teeth held tight and the
agony in Tim’s hand continued.

“He’s
like a bloody pitbull.  Jesus Christ!”

Sammie
opened his mouth and spat blood into Tim’s face.  “Blasphemer!”

Frank
took advantage of the opportunity and quickly got the remaining curtain tie
around Sammie’s right wrist.  Tim joined in by holding the boy’s wrist down
towards the bed post.  Between them they eventually got Sammie secured to the
bed, albeit with his untethered legs kicking and thrusting like pistons.

Tim
staggered backwards clutching his hand.  The skin was shorn from his knuckles
and blood dripped on the carpet like the ticking of a clock.  The gash was deep
and the bones in his hand ached – but he would be okay.  The wound was
superficial.

Sammie
glowered at Frank, who had climbed down off the bed.  Blood coated the boy’s
teeth and shone in the darkness, making his lips shimmer with dull red.  He
struggled against his bonds, but it did no good.  The curtain ties held him
tight.

Sammie
shook his head and his eyes suddenly seemed innocent and tender.  “How could
you, Frank?  My father trusted you.  You’re supposed to look after me.  That’s
your job.”

Frank
was panting.  “It’s more than just my job, Sammie, and it’s exactly what I
am
doing.  I’m trying to help you.  You’re a sick boy.”

“The
only sicko around here is you.  How long have you been fucking my mother?  Was
my father still fresh in the ground?”

Frank
looked pained.  “I loved your father, Sammie, and I loved your mother, too.  I
never did anything but look out for the both of them.”

Sammie
cackled.  “Good job.”

The
comment seemed to be all Frank could take and he turned away.  Tim knew how he
felt.  Sammie had a knack of getting to people’s nerves.  Somehow, hearing your
truths laid out bare by a child was worse than admitting them yourself.

Angela
tried to resume control.  “Sammie, it’s important that you listen to me until
this is over, okay?”

“Choke
and die, cunt!” he spat at her.  The thick, brown wad shimmered against the jet
fabric of her cassock. 

“Nobody
else is dying,” Angela told him forcefully, ignoring the phlegm on her clothing. 
“The evil in this house is impotent.  Nobody else in this house will be
harmed.  Do you understand me?”

Sammie
cackled again.  “You fools.  You weak, pathetic fools. All will die tonight at
my merest whim.  You will suffer last, priest, so that you can see what you
have reaped upon these souls.  The blood of this house will be on your hands.  My
rebirth will be christened by your flesh.  Your guts will spill, your soul will
bur-”

“Quiet!”
Angela demanded.  To Tim’s surprise, Sammie did just that.  He stopped talking
and just glared at her with his oil-slick eyes. Satisfied, Angela continued: “I
demand you leave this child immediately, or suffer the consequences.”

Sammie’s
voice dropped several octaves.  It boomed at them like a broken subwoofer.  “I
mock your consequences.  I shall be judged by no one, for I am above judgment. 
You will cower, all of you.  You will obey.  You will kneel.  Or you will die. 
Those are
your
consequences, priest.”

“I
do not fear you,” Angela said.  “You are weak.  I pity your weakness in the
shadow of my almighty Lord.  It is you who shall kneel before Him.”

Sammie
laughed; a great, booming laugh.

Angela
chose the moment to slip something out from under her cassock.  Tim saw it
glint in the candle-light as it appeared.  It was the ceremonial dagger, long
and slender like a stiletto.  Sammie’s eyes went wide at the sight of it.

“Whoa!”
Tim said, wishing he’d asked more questions earlier.  “Is it really a good time
to get all knifey?”

Angela
didn’t look at Tim but answered his question.  “We must draw blood.  It is the
only way to weaken the hold the evil has on the boy.”

Tim
didn’t like the tone of her voice.  It was flat and emotionless, as if she had
cleared her mind of all compassion in order to do what was necessary.

“I
can’t allow that,” said Frank.  “It’s…it’s not right.”

“This
has to happen, Frank.  We go all the way, or we lose.”

Frank
seemed in two minds.  “Well, what do you plan on doing?”

“She
should shove it up her twat!”  Sammie hollered from the bed, still struggling
to get free.  It was then that Tim realised the boy was urinating on his
sheets, letting loose a steady stream that mushroomed through the fabric.

Angela
held the dagger out in front of her.   “For the boy’s soul to be cleansed, he
must suffer the wounds of Christ.  His suffering will bring him closer to God,
to a place where evil cannot follow.  His mind will return to us, free of the
corruption that has been threatening to destroy it.”

“We
could go to prison for this,” said Tim.  He was thinking more and more about
retrying the front door to the house.  He wanted out of there bad, before things
went too far.

“We’re
probably already on our way there,” said Frank.  “God help me!  Just do it.”

Tim
was shocked.  Something in Frank had snapped.  He clearly now believed in what
Angela was doing and lacked the rational will to see the dangers of what they
were doing.  Tim thought the notion of cutting a ten year old boy with an
antique dagger was insane. What he couldn’t decide on for sure, though, was if
he truly did have reservations, or if he was just afraid.

I
can’t think clearly.  Things are just too crazy.

As
it turned out, Angela didn’t wait for anybody’s permission anyway.  She
approached Sammie with the knife.

“Get
away from me, dyke!” Sammie bellowed.

Angela
hopped up onto the bed and straddled Sammie’s waist in the same way Frank had
earlier.  She held the dagger above her head as if she were about to plunge it
deep into the boy’s chest.  Tim held his breath as he wondered if that was
exactly what was about to happen.  Sammie bucked and twisted beneath Angela’s
weight, trying to escape her.

“The
Lord demands you repent your sins,” she screamed.  “Demon, do you repent?”

“Fuck
you!”  Sammie spat what looked like two bloody molars at her face.  Mucus shot
forth from his lips and spattered her chest.  It did not deter her.

Angela
plunged the knife and drew it across Sammie’s forehead with a vicious flick of
her wrist.  The blood flowed quickly.  It descended upon Sammie’s face in a
gushing wave until he was completely covered by a crimson mask.

“Do
you repent?” Angela repeated.  “Demon, do you repent?”

Sammie’s
dark eyes scowled at her through the veil of blood.  “I…repent…nothing.”

“Then
you will suffer.”

Angela
drove the dagger down into Sammie’s left hand, plunging all the way through and
out the other side.  The boy’s screams were animalistic, inhuman, and also that
of a ten year old boy.  The noise was sickening.

“Stop!”
Tim shouted, unable to take any more.

Angela
ignored his pleas and also those of the screaming child beneath her.  She
pulled free the dagger from Sammie’s hand, blood spitting into the air, and drove
it down again.  This time the blade pierced Sammie’s right hand.

Tim
had seen enough.  He rushed forward and grabbed Angela around the waist, and
then threw her off the bed to the floor.  She looked up at him in anger and
surprise.  The bloody dagger dripped in her hand.

“This
has to stop!” Tim shouted. 

Before
Angela could get up, he grabbed one of Sammie’s wrists and quickly untied the
bond.  He was about to reach over and untie the other one, but Frank grabbed
him first.

“Calm
down!”

“Calm
down?  Calm down?  This is insane.”

“How
can you deny what you’ve seen?” Angela asked Tim as she dusted herself off. 
“Have you forgotten the pain in your hand where he bit into you like an animal? 
Have you forgotten the death and destruction you have seen in this house?”

Tim
huffed.  “Mike and Jessica were both killed by other people.  There was no evil
involved.”