2. Emily Hoebetker

As he skidded to a halt, gravel crunched underneath the fat rubber of the man's beloved 1966 Chevelle. 2485 Brentwood was a classic American farmhouse. Glancing out the open roof he quickly surveyed the area. The driveway open into a cul-de-sac and split the field. To his right and over a fence cows grazed and to his left grew a personal garden of tomatoes, pumpkins, and corn. The compound consisted of three buildings. One was large and freshly painted red barn. It was a classic barn with white trim, red paint, a sliding door, and a hay loft. The second was little further into the property and was a completely dilapidated barn. Cars, tires, lawnmowers, and rusted junk surrounded its perimeter. Long grass poked through the rusted holes. Upon quick inspection the door looked bolted shut, but enough holes rotted the wood so that gaining access would be easy. To his left, opposite the nice barn, stood the farmhouse. It looked like it belonged in Gone with the Wind. Five steps lead up to a porch that wrapped around the entire house. To one side of the front door, a swing with worn pastel cushions rocked in the breeze. To the other side sat two chairs and a small table with an open Coors can. As the he approached, he couldn't help but think how quaint it was, how American.

The farmer slammed the screen door behind him and paced toward the car. He waved and flipped his wrist to indicate that he should park any where. A Oklahoma Soones Mesh with a giant OS covered his balding head. He wore a salt and pepper beard that looked two days past a five o'clock shadow. He was heavy set, wore dirty overalls, and the man judged him to be in his late fifties.

His walked clumsily, an obvious combination of panic and alcohol. He ran his hand over his prickly beard and looked over the car. He was the kind of man who enjoyed cars and, given a different set of circumstance, he would have spent hours admiring its details. But he couldn't help but gawk for only a moment. His eyes rolled over the car the way most men's roll over the curves of a bikini.

The man gathered his files from the passenger seat and opened the door to greet his host.

"That's a nice car you got there," the farmer said.

"Thanks, it's kind of my baby," the man responded.

"You're the Catholic guy," the farmer said pointing to the man's bare neck.

"Yeah, sorry I don't like the collar. It's itchy. Hi, I am Tony, well Father Antonin Czarnaki, but you can call me Tony."

"Obliged. I am John Hoebetker. It's nice to meet you. I am relieved that you were willing to come."

"Well, this is what I do," Father Tony said shrugging his shoulders.

"I-um, well. Do you want to go inside and get started? I don't rightly know the procedure Father. I don't rightly know that much about Catholic Jesus. To be honest, we're Lutherans."

That's ok because I don't rightly believe that much in Catholic Jesus, thought Father Tony, but duty forced him to hold his tongue. Father Tony didn't lie. This was exactly what he did and he had done it exactly fifty-seven times. Each one of those fifty-seven times he considered a failure, not because he didn't succeed, but he because he didn't actually do anything.

"Really Tony is fine. I am not a big fan of the 'Father.' I need a minute before I can go inside and meet Emily," Father Tony said reading the girl's name from his file. "The reality is that the first thing we need to do is talk, a serious talk. Is there a place we can go, maybe have something to drink."

"Right. You're right sir. I've forgotten myself," John opened his arm and pointed Tony to the freshly painted barn. "My manners have taken a back seat in these past few months," John said leading Father Tony toward the barn.

"It's understandable. But before we can move forward we need to talk. It's important. Is your wife available? It would be better if she were here too."

John hesitated. It was obvious to Father Tony that John didn't want to admit that his wife had ran. "She couldn't stay any longer. Do you think you can help us?"

"First we talk," Father Tony said as John slide the barn door open.

Inside was the man cave of dreams. It made most men's living rooms look ragged. There was a 1950s coke refrigerator that for a nickel dispensed either coke or Coors. Pristine porcelain signs lined the walls advertising everything from Dad's Root-beer to Veedol oil. Off to the side, three black leather couches faced a large flat screen TV. Opposite the TV sat a full bar and, on the far end of the barn, John displayed a Ford Mustang and a 1930 Hudson. The floor was carpeted and everything was clean except for three pizza boxes carelessly tossed into the sink behind the bar.

John poured two cups of coffee and placed them on the table in between the couches.

"John," Father Tony said and paused to gain his attention. John was obviously tired, but Father Tony knew that this talk was essential and his attention was required. "I have done fifty-seven of these..." But not one of this true, he thought as he dove into his stump speech. "...And they have all had a positive result."

"That's..." John said with sigh. "...good news."

"Don't breath too easily yet. The Roman Catholic Church, my bosses, require that I inform you of the seriousness of this situation. So I am just going to tell you, straight forward, what they want me to tell. We take possession very seriously and exorcisms for us is essentially a two step process. The first step is that I need to determine if we have an actual possession. The Roman Catholic defines possession as when a demon, that is a supernatural entity, enters a body and uses it as a host. To be defined as a possession something supernatural must occur. To give you an idea. I have done fifty-seven exorcisms, but in the past three years I have visited 1,232 people who have claimed possession who I have determined were not possessed. Possession is rare. As a priest, I will preform step two, the exorcism, only if I determine that Emily is truly possessed..."

Bullshit, Father Tony thought. In Father Tony's mind even the fifty-seven weren't truly exorcisms. A true exorcism, as the definition stated, required an actual demon, and in fifty-seven experiences Father Tony believed that he had never encountered an actual demon.

John Hoebetker listened only to be polite. He neither cared nor understood why the church defined possession. He only wanted to help his daughter.

Despite his beliefs Father Tony was dutiful. He performed his investigation and the ritual by the book. That, in fact, was the reason the church had a book. Long ago, in the 15th century, the church realized that not all its practitioners were righteous. That being the case, the church empowered the ritual and the process. They made the exorcist secondary. Exorcism became a craft. People with faith were skilled, but people without faith could still go through the motions and preform an inferior exorcism..

As the past three years taught Father Tony, the "by the book" approach had its problems. Mostly notably the supernatural criteria of possession became defined. Hollywood and the Internet popularized exorcism. Every twelve year old girl knew the symptoms. They were easy to fake. All anyone had to do was stickily follow the book and they would be defined as possessed. In his mind, Father Tony encountered fifty-seven "Hollywood fakers." None were actually possessed, but all knew the symptoms perfectly, and some even believed that they were possessed.

The fraud fatigued Father Tony. Ten years ago he joined the priesthood because he had faith. Three years ago he experienced a crisis. Doubt took hold. He wanted explore the world and discover the truth. He desperately wanted to encounter a demon to prove the truth of his faith. Five hundred possession later, Father Tony discovered what he now believed to be the truth. There was no supernatural; faith was stupid.

"The first question I need to ask as part of my investigation, is have you had exorcists from other religions or any Protestants? " Father Tony continued.

"Look, I called everybody..."

"It's alright John, I am not judging. I just need to know what kind of spiritual people and rituals have been going on here since, well, how long has it been since it started?"

"Forty-seven days. It started forty-seven days ago. That's when Emily floated from the field over there to the front porch."

"Floated?" Father Tony asked. I was supernatural symptom, but in his fifty-seven cases Father Tony had only heard of it described as levitation (which wasn't easy to fake, but doable) and he had never encountered a levitation that traversed such a distance.

"Floated. That girl come from behind that barn," John said pointing to the dilapidated barn. "Ten feet in the air, floating. She was straight, like she was standing, but she looked limp as if none of her muscles worked. After she fell and ran to her and held her. I looked and the ground underneath her path was burned, but there was no fire. It's still ash. Nothing grows."

It was an amazing story, but Father Tony's initial reaction was disbelief. He wondered only why John would lie, how she could fake it, or most likely, how much was exaggeration and misinterpretation.

"You'll have to show me after we finish talking. The other exorcists?"

"First, I called the my Pastor." As John talked, Father Tony took notes. "He come out here, wave a cross and plash some water, like in the movies. But nothing. That thing inside of her just talked in a way nobody could understand and then nothing. My Pastor, his name is Michael Schnieder, he still comes every couple days. He's a good man. Does the same thing, sprinkles some water, says some words, and nothing. I called two more Pastors. I think one was a Baptist. He practically ran out of here. The other, by then the word was getting around, he was that guy on channel thirteen, Reverend Donovan White. On TV he expels twenty demons a night. People run on stage, shake, he puts its hands on them, and they fall to the ground. Cured-so he claims. It's such bullshit. Pardon my language."

Father Tony chuckled. "Sorry, I don't mean any offense. But bullshit is right. During my studies I worked with a Reverend just like him. He said that sin is caused by a demon, and so all the sinners line up to stop their gluttony by having the demon of french fries expelled. Bullshit is right. My bosses don't approve. It's a growth industry for those guys, TV and all. A real demon is not sin, it's supposed to be a thing, like a man, with a personality and intelligence. But tell me, is this Michael Schniender somebody you trust?"

"Yes, like I said he is a good man and a good Pastor. He runs the youth group that Emily belongs. They do sports, hiking and all sort of good things for the kids."

"I need two more people to do the exorcism. So if I invited him, you would be ok with him being in the room."

"Of course? He's only one who's stayed with me."

"You think he would take direction from the 'Catholic guy?'"

"He would do what needs to be done to help."

"Has there been any others. Any non-Christians."

"Like I said I called everybody. I wanted to try a Buddhist. I always thought, 'he's a peaceful looking fat guy.' The only one we got near hear is a Korean Buddhist. It wasn't that different. Instead of water they used candles and smoke. Nothing. There is one more I am ashamed to tell you about but at this point I no longer care about my shame. Emily is too important. There is this guy over in Tuskahoma who claims to be a member of the church of Satan. I called him. I don't know maybe I thought they could talk like friends or something. I regretted it the moment I saw him. No car like yours. He had on a cape and painted his nails black. He even had on black lipstick of all things. He brought something from the butcher, he said it was pig's heart. It got weird."

"I need to hear it."

"He made a pentagram around Emily's bed with chalk so that she was in the middle. Waited till midnight. Stabbed the heart with sharpened piece of bone, poured the blood on her lips. He said something in Latin, I think. Then he asked the demon what his name was and why he was here. Emily changed. She looked at him, not like she looked at anybody in forty-seven days. She spoke, but it wasn't English. He couldn't tell what he said. But this is where it got weird. He had one of them Ouija boards. It was sitting the floor, next to his tool bag. That little pointer snapped and started moving. Neither of us even near it. It spelled out one world and then repeated it three times. 'Beloved.' I thought it was Emily trying to talk to me, but the truth is I don't know what it means."

"I can't tell you what it means either but that's interesting. Your Satanic priest used some of our methods, but I never heard of bringing a Ouija board to an exorcism before. What is his name, this Satanist?"

"He calls himself Demian. Like I said, Tuskahoma. I can get you his number if you want."

"Yes, before I leave today. What was Emily like just before the possession? Was she depressed? Did you have a fight?"

"She's a sixteen year old girl, so yes."

"But I mean anything out of the ordinary? Drugs? Sex? Boyfriends? I know this might be hard, but the truth will only help."

"She's my daughter. I am not going to sit here and tell you I know everything thing that goes on in her life, because I don't. She's sixteen and I am sure she hides things and I am sure she has done things I don't approve of, but what I can tell you is that one day everything is normal and the next day she's floating."

"All right. Has she seen a medical doctor or psychiatrist?
"Nope."

"May I ask why not? I ask because of the 1,232 people who claimed to be possessed but who were not, all of them needed needed a doctor." The fifty-seven too, for that matter, Father Tony thought.

"To tell you the truth, the idea never occurred to me. I just came so sudden. I guess I figured when your car is broke you go to a mechanic, so when your soul is broke you go to a priest."

"Well, I'd like to bring in a psychiatrist and I'd like Emily to visit her for at least one year after I finish."

"Anything," John said leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Is there anything else you think I might need to know, then can you please show me the scorched earth?"

"Well there's only two things I think you need to know. The first is, I don't rightly know where Emily disappeared to in the first week."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that is before Pastor Michael and I restrained her, Emily didn't sleep. She would get up and leave, come back exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later. We noticed the third day. The fourth and fifth she broke the restraints. I tried to follow her but she ran, ran you wouldn't believe. We don't rightly know where she went. I take responsibility for any problems that might caused but that's what happened."

"You mean she was mobile," Father Tony asked. He was surprised. He never heard of 'quickly on set mobile possession.' Many of the kids diagnosed with mental illness were mobile, but their possessions were never described as happening in a day.

"That's what I mean."

"And the second thing."

"I love my daughter. And I will do whatever you want to help her. I am desperate. So please, please help."

"Like I said. I take this very seriously. I will do what I can. Can you show me the burned earth."

John lead Father Tony outside and around to the side of the barn. What looked like a man made walking path of cut through the tall grass. It ran between the barns and circled around the old dilapidated one. Father Tony stooped down to examine it. The earth was gray, like the ash the day after a Bar-b-que, but it was compacted. He dug a few inches with this fingers and still the earth was gray. He brought it to his mouth and the bitter taste of sulfur tickled his tongue.

"How deep does it go I wonder? Do you have a shovel," Father Tony was legitimately curious. In his three years as North America's exorcist he had never encountered scorched earth. If it went more than a foot deep, he would accept it as supernatural. He would define Emily as possessed and be impressed with her, or John's, creativity.

Father Tony stabbed the shovel and began to dig.

Father Tony had reason to doubt. He had what he believed to be a scientific explanation for everyone of his possessions. Of the fifty-seven exorcism he had preformed fifty-one of them had been girls ages twelve to eighteen. Of the fifty-one, thirty-eight should have been diagnosed with mental illness: schizophrenia, bi-polar disease, insomnia, and Tourette Syndrome. He had come to realize that a stigma was attached to young women. They were supposed to be healthy and fertile and when they were sick, nobody wanted to believe it. Mental illness was less common in young females and so, when they were sick, everyone wanted to pass them off as possessed. Eight of the the fifty-one young girls, Father Tony regarded as delusional (but without mental illness). For the most part these girls lived in rural, isolated areas and were raised by "Neo-Christians." They feared sexuality and were ignorant of their bodies. When puberty struck, they became confused and guilty and believed their "affliction" was outside of their control. It was for these girls that the exorcisms ritual (combined with a therapist) worked the best. The exorcism freed them from the guilt and the therapist freed them from the confusion. The other five young girls Father Tony regarded as complete liers. They purposefully and willfully faked their possession. Four of them did it to either escape abuse or for attention. The final girl wanted to be an actor and filmed the entire event with hidden camera stuffed insider her teddy bear and her phone. Two days after he left, Father Tony saw himself on youtube. Of the remaining nine exorcisms two were adult women. Their cases were mild and Father Tony didn't really know what to make of them, but their symptoms mirrored a mid-life crisis. One woman went through catatonic phases and the other broke with all behavior patterns and started producing erotic art. Father Tony actually enjoyed talking to her and he agreed to the exorcism mostly on account of her husband and the fact that she never wore clothes.

The seven males proved to be more diverse cases. Six of the males believed that they were possessed by a specific person or fictional character. Hitler, Napoleon, The Incredible Hulk, Cleopatra, Freddy Mercury, and Virgil all spoke English in deep raspy voices and the possessions all ended with confused eyes asking "was I just somebody famous?" But there was one case that Father Tony couldn't readily explain. It was the reason, at one of the reasons, he hadn't yet abandoned the priesthood. The possessed man was a University Archaeologist. According to his wife, one day he came home completely white and changed. He was rational, cold, calculating, and completely evil. When Father Tony met him, he was in prison for attempting to assemble the components of a nuclear bomb. He talked slowly with his head down and his eyes bulged. The man claimed his break with society was rational. He claimed that "Mother Earth" was dying and radical action was needed to awaken a new spirit.

After an hour, Father Tony had dug chest deep. With every shovel full he still unearthed a pile of gray sulfur tasting ash. The sun browned his forehead, Sweat and dirt covered his brow. He stopped, leaned on the handle of the shovel, and looked up at John.

"Satisfied?" John asked.

"No," Father Tony said surveying the mess, the barns, and his inability to explain the depth.

He whipped brow with his soiled shirt sleeve and took a breath.

A sound, loud and harsh, washed over the compound. Father Tony looked up at John. It started as a whine but grew into a wail. It felt torturous and Father Tony felt it dig, like a thousands needles, into every pore of his skin. It was tangible and sent goose flesh rocketing up and down his arms. It grew deeper and steadied. It was continuous. It both deep like a fog horn and high like fire truck. It was emotional, like a hundred monks chanting at the same time. The sound wailed for six minutes and thirty-three seconds without lapse. Then it stopped.

"What was that?" Father Tony asked.

"That was Emily."

They stood silent together for several minutes, as Father Tony tried to comprehend how that sound could come from one girl.

"I will make preparations and we will begin tomorrow.".