Chapter Four

All of Jennifer's senses were assaulted upon her return to consciousness. She was first greeted by a black sea with dull lights swimming through the mass. Her peripheral vision was clouded with the same mucky material. Six seconds of reasoning told her that she was either blind or staring at the back of her eyelids. Fear of the former kept her from opening her eyes immediately. Unfortunately, closing her ears off wasn't an option. Consequently there was no defense against the annoyingly loud, monotonous, ringing that threatened to drive her insane. It was coming from everywhere at once and seemingly from inside of her head; a familiar sound that continued relentlessly.

Jennifer's only reprieve was pain, which allowed her to consider something other than the noise. The right side of her neck and her right shoulder were cramped worse than when she fell asleep in awkward positions. Becoming aware of her surroundings, she realized that at least half of her bodyweight was concentrated on the two fragile areas. One reason her head was spinning was likely because she was upside down. What happened?

A foul, festering odor added to Jennifer's discomfort. She was breathing heavily and sucking in the repulsive air in the process. The inside of her nostrils burned upon inhaling what smelled like decaying, rotten meat. Wrinkling her nose, Jennifer decided that it was time to see what was happening although she had an idea. She was inside of the van. That much was obvious. The smell hadn't affected her during the chase due to her mind being occupied with survival. Now, it threatened to make her pay by attacking with its full thrust.

Resisting the urge to puke, Jennifer forced her eyes open. Her eyelids struggled to remain closed for a second but her will overpowered them. Darkness. Let your eyes adjust. It's probably still night time. Following her own directions, she waited patiently while the darkness took on shapes and sizes. Then a light appeared from a source to the left - out of her view, exposing the environment. As she expected, she was inside of the van, only it was turned on its right side. She was lying on her shoulder and neck against the passenger's door with her seatbelt supporting some of her weight. Ouch! The rest was held up parts of the anatomy not intended to bear anything near her full weight.

Neck injuries were nothing to play with. Jennifer brought her left arm down and placed her hand on the door. She pushed with what little strength she had and lifted her torso enough to take the pressure off of her neck. Then she lowered her right elbow and used it to guide herself over onto her back. The seatbelt clung to her hips, refusing to let her go without a fight. Annoyed, Jennifer reached up and clicked the button to release the buckle. Freed, she dropped on the door fully, landing on both shoulders. Better than my neck. Sort of.

The light she'd seen earlier was from the moon, now directly above her head. The illuminated sphere in the sky shined on her through the driver's door window. Clouds drifted nearby, indicating that the brightness the moon provided wouldn't last forever. Jennifer looked down to her right to see a heap of humanity stretched across the bottom of the empty window space. Her recognition of the form jolted her with a second wind. She discounted the aches in her neck and shoulder to roll around until she was on her knees. From there she saw that it was Durrell, unconscious. His back rose and declined slowly. He was breathing, albeit shallowly.

"Durrell."

No answer.

"Durrell!" Jennifer yelled, hoping to awaken him. He'd lost a lot of blood so that task was a tall order. The dim lighting showed that the liquid had splashed onto the hood of the van. Jennifer's hands were wet as well. The blood had leaked right through the jacket onto her skin. He's lost way too much. If the bleeding wasn't stopped efficiently, and soon, he wouldn't live through the night. He'd be dead and beyond resuscitation. There was no way Jennifer was going to permit that to happen.

"No, Durrell," She crawled forward until she was in a position to examine his body. He was lying on his left side which exposed the injured arm. Although the bleeding had noticeably slowed he couldn't risk losing more. Not without death or long term damages. Jennifer rarely carried a watch so she had no means of knowing how long it had been since the crash. The chances were that he had lost a fatal quantity minutes ago.

Turning around, Jennifer searched the inside of the van for the jacket. A brief scan of the area where the front seats were was fruitless. The knife that had pierced Durrell's arm remained embedded in the dashboard. Averting her eyes from the creepy weapon, she peered into the back of the van. The corpses, with the exception of one hanging out of the open backdoor, were missing. In their place were tools and sharp, bizarre weapons like the blade. They'd fallen from the walls and ceiling along with seven fresh, folded, white sheets.

Relieved, Jennifer separated one of the sheets and unfolded it. Spread out fully in front of her, it was close to the dimensions of a queen sized bed: six and a half feet by five feet. She had a queen bed at home that she was dying to spend 8 hours with later. Stay focused. The faster you get through this the faster you get home. Nodding to herself, she measured roughly five inches from the top of the longhand side. When satisfied with the distance she firmly clasped the thin cotton fabric with her left hand. Then she made a quick second estimate and used her stronger hand to tear the sheet in as straight a line as possible. It tore the full five feet across without causing her additional strain.

Jennifer returned to her boyfriend and gently slipped one end of the torn sheet underneath his left arm. She dragged it through until the sheet was about even on both sides of his limb. The white sheet had already been defiled with a red stain. It was a miracle that he was breathing despite the blood being everywhere. Jennifer wrapped the sheet around his arm twice, as tightly as she believed necessary to control the blood loss. Following the second layering, she tied the ends together to form an effective tourniquet. That would do for now.

"Durrell!" Jennifer shook his torso roughly, trying to rouse him out of his sleep. "Durrell wake up!

He didn't respond.

"I got you into this, I'm getting you out of it alive," Jennifer said.

Rising, she clambered over his body, groaning when her knee landed on his outstretched right hand. There was no response from him verbally or physically. He was out of it. Massive blood loss could result in a coma. Don't think like that. He'll be fine. Jennifer assured herself that Durrell was just unconscious and nothing more. That's what she had to think to refrain from breaking down and failing them both. He's fine.

Outside the wreck of the van she tilted her head backwards and took a deep breath. The cramps in her neck and shoulder couldn't restrict her enjoyment of the fresh air. The feel of a cool breeze on the skin of her face was a welcome reprieve. Inside of the van had been an intense, putrid, and oppressive environment. Added to that was nausea spurred by the sinking suspicion that dozens, maybe hundreds, of people had been stored in the back of the vehicle over time. The oppression lifted the moment she stepped into the night and she reveled in the freedom.

Lowering her head, Jennifer surveyed their location. The road stretched on seemingly forever in either direction. Alone, the van's position was not an appropriate indication of which way they'd been headed. She didn't remember the slightest detail of the crash or the immediate events leading up to it. Therefore, relying on the direction of the van would discount the possibility that it had flipped or spun around prior to stopping. Fortunately, the objects laid out on the surface of the road twenty feet away were telling. The overturned van was between Jennifer and the corpses wrapped in white sheets. They had fallen out of the open backdoor behind the vehicle.

The man, or demon, in the hat had yanked that door open. Time to go. Every second counted. Outrunning their foe wasn't plausible after witnessing his speed. They had to stay far ahead.

Jennifer breathed deeply again and looked to the pitiable form of her boyfriend. She crouched at his head and hauled him up into a sitting posture. Then she turned, aligning her back with his, and moved her arms in a full, counterclockwise circle, hooking Durrell's arms in the process. One. Two. Thr- The muscles throughout her body tensed as she straightened her legs and stood on her feet.

The full 155 pounds of her boyfriend's muscular mass settled on her shoulders and upper back. Picking him up in the midst of playful wrestling was no comparison. He always jumped to make it easier for her to scoop him off of his feet. Now she was supporting the brunt of his weight unassisted. It was too much. Have to do it. You can handle this, girl. Jennifer widened her stance to spread the impact and include her legs in the procedure. That seemed to alleviate the stress. Keep moving. The longer you stand here complaining about his weight, the heavier he'll get.

Three awkward but successful steps forward boosted Jennifer's confidence. Her legs quivered under the heavy burden and her biceps ached. Still, she was emboldened by the knowledge that she could handle the task. In that potency, she readjusted her grip with her forearms and trudged ahead. Durrell's heels dragged smoothly on the asphalt instead of stalling to hinder her progress. There was one thing working in her favor. That and her thin frame was somehow managing to hold up while bearing a grown man on her back. She was completely aware of his weight without being overwhelmed by it.

Where am I going? Route 130 was miles away in the opposite direction. Jennifer had never taken the exit that the van used. She didn't even know it existed before tonight. Countless miles could be waiting before signs of civilization appeared. Erie County was bordered by rural towns and farmland with endless stretches of road. Gas stations, convenience stores, and sleazy motels that proliferated in busier cities were rare. You're better off not getting your hopes up by expecting one of those to pop up.

Police sometimes parked their patrol cars in the grass next to streets late at night – plotting to catch speeders who thought the law didn't apply to them when authorities weren't nearby. Tonight is the first time in years I'd be happy to run into a cop. Jennifer grinned and continued to trudge onward. Unknown or not, as long as the road led away from the demon, she was content.

….

"Durrell, wake up!" Jennifer screamed.

He heard her voice and the urgency in the tone. Yet he couldn't muster the energy to feel any of her fear or panic. Worrying was a waste of strength and that was something he was running low enough on. What little he had, needed to be focused on hands, which were squeezing the life out of the steering wheel. If he wasn't careful the white of the inside of his hands would turn the black color of the rest of his skin due to bruising. The thick plastic of the wheel dug into his flesh. The lone positive was that the new pain distracted him from the wound on his arm. So with the knowledge that his consciousness depended on it, he embraced the throbbing pain in his hands.

"You're going to kill us, Durrell!" Jennifer complained again, tapping him frantically on the shoulder with one hand. He was vaguely aware that her other hand was pressing her bundled jacket against his wound. "Come on!"

White began forming on the edges of his vision and the road morphed into a blurred mass. Through the distortion he saw that the van was headed for the side of the road. The thick trunk of a tree waited thirty yards ahead in the path of the raging vehicle. He imagined the front of the van enclosing around the tree, crushing he and Jennifer in an instant. Can't… can't let that happen.

"DURRELLLL!" Jennifer cried out, giving up on tapping him to shield her face.

He had the presence of mind to wrench the wheel to the right as the tree neared. The van wasn't able to comply with his sudden command and it went up on its right-side wheels attempting to. Jennifer was still screaming when Durrell was launched out of his seat and…

BOOM! Durrell sat up, gasping for air, heart racing.

Where? What happened? The visuals of the tree, the road, and the inside of the van remained in his head even as he realized that his setting had changed. He blinked several times while the former disintegrated. Encompassing him on all sides were white walls and a matching ceiling overhead lined with fluorescent lights. Underneath him was a soft, comfortable bed with white sheets strewn over it. I've had enough of white sheets for the day. The floor around the bed was decorated with light blue and grey tiles. A closed door stood opposite him on the far side of the room.

If not for the colored floor he would have thought he was in a home for the mentally impaired. Or heaven. The last he remembered he was a heartbeat away from being ejected from a van. He would almost consider death a welcome relief in the face of what he'd gone through. Considering, though, that he'd spent the last hour evading a demon dressed up like a man… a mental institution made more sense. A white room would drive most people crazier, not be therapeutic. Durrell smirked and basked in the simple pleasure of having time to ponder such pointless thoughts.

"My son, if sinners entice you, do not consent."

The voice of an elderly woman spoke beside him. Maybe I am crazy and in an institution. Or heaven. Durrell laughed to himself, assuming he was hearing things.

"If they say, 'Come with us, let us lie in wait to shed blood; let us lurk secretly for the innocent without cause; let us swallow them alive like Sheol, and whole like those who go down to the pit. We shall find all kinds of precious possessions; we shall fill our houses with spoil. Cast in your lot among us, let us all have one purse…'"

"Durrell, you don't have to do this," Jennifer said.

"There's not much else I can do, Jennifer," Durrell replied, sighing. He was sitting in his bedroom at home on the telephone. Posters of his favorite professional wrestlers covered half of the walls. Choice Bible verses printed out on plain paper or typed across beautiful scenery occupied the rest of the free space. "We have $150 out of a $600 payment required next week. I talked to the landlord and he told me there were two prospective customers interested in the apartment. And they are willing to put up $800 a month to persuade him."

"Can he legally do that?" Jennifer asked. "Just sell your apartment out from underneath you?"

"The lease specifically states that all payments must be made on time. My grandmother won't be receiving another check for two weeks and that one will be less than her last. I am not going to allow her to spend a minute on the streets, homeless. She raised and supported me all of these years without asking for anything in return. I can't let this happen to her."

"Can you kill?"

"What?"

"Can you kill, Durrell? Ben will supply the money you need IF you are willing to pay the price of your innocence."

"What does that mean?"

"He doesn't want to risk you leaving the gang and exposing him later," Jennifer told him. "I tried to explain that you wouldn't do that but he refused to listen. I'm respected by the leaders but my authority only goes so far. I can't help you."

"He wants me to… kill someone?" Durrell lowered his eyes to his hand.

"Yes, that's how initiations are usually done."

"I…I…" Durrell stammered. On the door of his bedroom was a poster featuring the Ten Commandments. The sixth one, you shall not murder, seemed to leap from the paper at him. He had decided to date Jennifer and deal with the unavoidable backlash he would receive from being affiliated with a gang member. Some would despise him, but he was sure his grandmother would support their relationship. Spilling blood, though… how could he betray his grandmother and His God by going that far? Then again, where have You been since we needed You?

"Yes, I'm willing."

Silence from the other end.

"Are you angry?"

"Disappointed? Yes. Angry – not really. I'm disgusted that you would resort to murder for money."

"Disgusted? When did you become the model for moral behavior? You had to do the same thing, didn't you?"

"You're right. I have no excuses. The difference between you and me is that I've lived like this most of my life. And I joined the Hoods for protection, not money. You're supposed to be a man of God, aren't you?"

"Hey, I'm not doing this to add to a collection of baseball cards! Grandma will not last more than a few days out on the streets. I can't sit by and let it go down like that. What else can I do?"

"I'll stand by you no matter what you decide whether I agree or not," Jennifer responded. "I'm just a little stunned because you were my sole motivation for wanting to live a normal life in the future. I admired you as a man who stuck by his convictions. You've never pressured me to leave the gang but out of appreciation for your kindness I wanted to. Seeing the type of man that you were…"

The old woman's voice returned and Durrell was back inside of the white room.

"My son, do not walk in the way with them, keep your foot from their path; for their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood. But they lie in wait for their own blood, they lurk secretly for their own lives. So are the ways of everyone who is greedy for gain; it takes away the life of its owners."

In a chair pulled up beside the bed sat Durrell's grandmother. She was a petite lady and the massive book she held, reading aloud, covered her face and neck. Having known her for 21 years, Durrell didn't need to see the face to identify her. The voice, the black dress ornamented with white flowers, and an identical wide-brimmed hat were all he needed. A smile crossed his lips as he listened to her reading animatedly out of the book.

"Wisdom calls aloud outside; she raises her voice in the open squares," Grandma raised an eyebrow and peered over the top of the book to see her grandson sitting up and awake. "Good morning sleepy head."

"Hi grandma," Durrell said, tentatively. The window in the wall behind her displayed a darkened sky. "It's morning?"

"4:35 a.m.," Grandma overturned her wrist and glanced at a watch there. "This brings back memories, doesn't it?"

"Where are we?"

"When you were a little boy you were always falling and hurting yourself or getting into trouble. You drove me crazy. And when I watched you like a hawk you managed to get sick. I always stayed with you when the doctors wanted to keep you overnight, reading from the Good Book until you fell asleep. That was when you were still little enough for old Grandma to read to you."

"Hospital? Where's Jennifer?"

"In room thirty-two five doors that way," Grandma gestured to the left of the door. "Besides being worried sick about you she's fine, son. We thought we were going to lose you the way the doctors were talking. You two arrived just in time for them to start the blood transfusions to save your life. If you had lost anymore blood you would have been beyond help."

"Grandma, I'm sorry…"

"For what?"

"I've been an idiot," Tears began rolling down Durrell's cheeks as her averted his eyes from her, too ashamed to maintain eye contact. "I should have trusted in God, I know. I was going to do something horrible. It was for you, but…"

"Son," Grandma stood, placing the book on the chair, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Jennifer told me everything. I am surprised that you went as far as you did but I know your intentions were good. What you did was stupid, yes. But I know your heart. And you should know mine. I would rather be poor living on the streets than have my grandson in a gang murdering innocent people."

"I know, Grandma," Durrell allowed himself to be pulled into a comforting embrace.

"Don't you worry about a thing," Grandma rubbed his back. "The doctors are looking for a replacement for what you lost out there. They say you'll be just fine."

"What I lost?" Durrell leaned away. "What did I lose?"

Grandma didn't reply. Her lips were quivering and her eyes saddened. She lifted an index finger and pointed at Durrell's torso. "You don't know…"

He had not felt even a tinge of pain or discomfort prior to the present moment. The cut on his arm was bandaged and he would have forgotten about the injury otherwise. The hospital might have administered pain medication while he was unconscious. What had occurred, though, to drive them to that extreme? His Grandma's finger ominously indicated that there was a problem with his upper body.

Shivering, Durrell lowered his gaze to his torso and seized the bottom of the shirt he wore. Then he pulled it up to his neck to expose the skin. Midway down his abdomen was a horizontal incision that stretched from one side of his body to the other. The nasty wound was closed, the flesh and skin sown back together to ensure it stayed that way. Seeing the size of the cut, and the familiar white thread sticking in and out of his skin, overwhelmed him. Durrell grabbed his head in horror and screamed. The demon had taken something out of him.

….

"What did he take?" Durrell cried out, rolling back and forth on the bed cradling his head in both hands. "Oh God, help me! Help me!"

"Durrell, calm down," Jennifer pleaded with him, standing overhead.

Opening his eyes, Durrell found himself in another room. The fluorescent lights of the hospitals were gone and the white walls substituted for beige ones. He was on his back in a large bed underneath a thick comforter. Shoving the blanket off, he frantically sat up and yanked the shirt up past his collar. With the clothing out of the way he looked at his bare stomach. Nothing.

"What happened to the cut?" Durrell asked, breathing laboriously. "He took something out of me."

"He didn't touch you, hon," Jennifer shook her head. "I swear you're okay."

"But… but…"

A dream. He wasn't in the hospital and the only visible external injury was his right arm. The bicep was tightly wound inside of a thin white material. Just a dream. A twisted dream no doubt prompted by the terrifying events of the evening. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Durrell observed his new surroundings. The top of the glass nightstand to his immediate left shared a black compact Bible and a gray lamp. Beyond the foot of the bed resided a door with peaceful landscape paintings on either side.

"Just a dream," Durrell muttered, allowing the truth to sink in. He let his shirt fall and turned to Jennifer. "You okay?"

Although Jennifer was on her feet, it appeared that she hadn't faired particularly well. Her hair hung in her face and the thin bangs that she had were stuck to her forehead, held there by sweat. The way she stood, wavering slightly back and forth, told Durrell she was in need of rest.

"I'm still breathing so I won't complain," Jennifer replied, blowing thin strands of hair out of her left eye's view.

"What happened? Did the police come? All I remember is crashing and…"

"We did crash," Jennifer assented, nodding. "It could have been a whole lot worse. You didn't have your seat belt on and you almost went right out the windshield. I woke up and you were out of it. I didn't know how far behind that thing was, and I didn't want to wait around to find out. So I… dragged you here."

That would explain her worn out appearance.

"Thank you."

"Thank you for working out as much as you do," Jennifer said, smugly. "And making my job harder."

"Most people would have left my black butt out there. I would have deserved it with the way I've acted lately."

"Nah," Jennifer grinned. "The thought didn't cross my mind once. As far as I'm concerned I got you into this mess and I'm going to see you through it. We're in this together, no matter what."

"Where are we?" Durrell's eyes roamed the medium-sized room again. "Looks like a hotel."

"Yes, sir – welcome to the Jack and Suzie Inn," Jennifer gestured towards the room, as if advertising it. "An old couple owns it. We're on the border of Erie County in a little city called Shady Dawn. Heard of it?"

"My Grandma hates the place. She never told me why and I didn't ask but she's always refused to drive through it. Hates it."

"Well, for the moment it's our refuge I hope."

"What did you tell Jack and… Suzie was it? I'm presuming that you didn't mention we were out to kill someone and ended up being chased by a boogeyman. A boogeyman who has a knack for knitting, no less."

"I told them that we had an accident, which is true. But I didn't mention exactly where it was. I don't want them calling the police, yet. I'm either going to have to tell the total truth about what happened to us tonight, or we leave and find a way of our own."

"Why not let the cops get involved?"

"Not yet," Jennifer said, sternly. "The van we stole from that thing had bodies in the back of it. I may be released with a warning if they find out who I am since I can't be tied directly to any crimes. However, those bodies on top of my association – that would cause a big setback."

"What are we going to do, then? We have to call them, somehow."

"There's a payphone in the library," Jennifer informed him. "I'll call a taxi first to assure us a ride out of here. When the car shows up you'll hold him while I call the police and hang up. They come, we're gone, no controversy. Work for you?"

"Sounds good," Durrell shrugged. "Where are we going to go?"

"Home, finally. The hotel owners will help the cops identify us sooner or later. Before that happens and we arouse suspicions, I'll call to say that we had an accident. We ran into a deer or some kind of animal. That'll explain the damage to the roof of my car. So we'll be off the hook and after the cops find the bodies… they'll search for that thing and hopefully kill it."

"One thing, though… I bled all over the van."

"Rats, I forgot."

"Listen, I know you're concerned that we'll be blamed for the bodies. But I was in seminary school for three weeks and I have no criminal record. If you've cleaned up after yourself as efficiently as you say, you'll clear out as well. The police won't have a reason to distrust me. The evidence should be in our favor. The knife that cut my arm is still in the van, right?"

Jennifer nodded.

"Okay. We didn't lay a hand on it and I know the victims didn't. I say we be honest and tell them everything… leaving out the supernatural stuff."

"Are you sure?" Jennifer asked, doubtfully. "After all we've been through the last thing I want is to be separated. I couldn't stand it if…I need you right now."

Durrell rolled out of the bed and stood in front of Jennifer. She stared despondently into his eyes, her own moist with tears. Weariness and anxiety shone plainly on her face and in her stance. Though the swaying had ceased her shoulders were sagged and her knees trembled. The toughness in Jennifer's spirit that Durrell had long admired was depleted; exhausted in the same manner as her physical body. She was the strongest-willed human being he'd ever met. Man or woman. His instinctive chivalry had been challenged by her independence from day one.

The twenty year old woman was an honored member of the vastly feared Hoods.

She emerged the victor of countless fights with members of both sexes. Life and death encounters with police and rival gangs failed to faze her. Durrell had often desired to comfort her only to learn that it wasn't necessary. Tonight, with the hardened shell of her rough exterior shattered in pieces, Jennifer was reduced to a frail, pathetic form. In reality she was a 5'6", 115 pound girl who had suffered a tumultuous life. Capped off by the nightmare they had entered tonight. Durrell wrapped his arms around her and she collapsed into him, weakly. He struggled under her weight briefly, adjusted his footing, and then held her.

"I've got you," He whispered into her ear. "We won't be split up, I promise."

In response, Jennifer leaned her head on his upper chest.

"I hate to see you like this," Durrell admitted. "I feel bad for you but it's a moment I'll remember forever. I've always wished I could be there to comfort you when you were overwhelmed by life. Today is the first time I've actually seen you… down. The first time you've really needed me."

"I've always needed you, Durrell, you should know that," Jennifer stated.

"I've always been here."

"But don't get your hopes up. It's the first and last time you'll ever see this."

Durrell laughed, "It's worth it."

Ten minutes passed with them standing beside the bed, Jennifer permitting herself to be cradled in Durrell's arms. The bed was a mere inches away and the soft, king-sized mattress was as inviting as any she'd seen. A few hours of sleep would suit her well if they went with the plan to alert the authorities. Police procedure typically led to a full day of questioning when murder was involved. The thought of spending a night in the police station explaining the incident, probably in painstaking detail, turned Jennifer's stomach. One concern decided the matter immediately for her. That thing was out there, somewhere. I'd rather take my chances with the police. She'd prefer a run-in with crooked cops to seeing that thing again

"I'll talk to the owners," Jennifer said. "We shouldn't waste any more time. They seemed reasonable so we'll see what happens."

"Sure," Durrell sighed. "We'll see."