Free The Indestructible Man by William Jablonsky

face poke out from between the curtains, then disappear back inside. After a while he comes to the door, sweaty like he’s just tried to wrestle the evil thing alone. We give him the holy water and the other tools he asked for. In the corner of my eye I see Minnie come out of the bathroom, adjusting her skirt, but out of respect I try not to look.
     
    Brother Stewart herds us into the kitchen and has us hook some emery boards into little crosses with baggie ties, to protect us in case the demon tries to leave Joe and jump into one of us. It takes me a minute to hook them together, so when Brother Stewart goes back out to comfort Minnie I follow him, just to make sure I’m doing it right—no sense taking chances. In the living room Minnie is busy stuffing a few shirts into an old black canvas suitcase, having a hard time trying to make it all fit.
     
    Brother Stewart seems surprised when I tap him on the shoulder, but he takes my cross and looks it over for me. “Looks good, Jimmy,” he says.
     
    Minnie still hasn’t gotten the suitcase closed, so I push down on the top so she can latch it shut. “Here you go, Minnie,” I say. “Going somewhere?”
     
    “She’s getting out of here,” Brother Stewart says. He looks at her and she nods. “To her mother’s house in Louisville. She shouldn’t be here for this.”
     
    “Seems like a good idea,” I say.   If Joe is as bad off as he seems, I’d feel a lot better if Minnie wasn’t there. I could swear Joe once said Minnie’s mother was dead, but my memory’s never been that sharp and it isn’t the best time to ask.
     
    Brother Stewart makes himself a sandwich and sends Minnie off to the car with the wine, bread, and deli meat. He leads us toward the bedroom but stops at the door. He looks on us with pride and steels himself with a deep breath. “Whatever happens,” he says, “I want to thank you boys.” We nod; this will be hard, but we know it has to be done. We hold up our emery board crosses and follow him in.
     
    When Brother Stewart opens the door I try to keep my eyes off Joe because I can’t stand to see him like that. The dresser drawers are wide open and clothes are hanging out, like the room’s been ransacked.
     
    Joe looks up at us weakly, pleading with his eyes, then lays his head back on the pillow, moaning. It might not be Joe, just some evil thing, but it sure sounds like him. I try not to pay attention to him as we light the votive candles and put them in every corner, casting the walls in soft pink and orange light. Brother Stewart says the candlelight will keep the demon from escaping and infecting someone else. It has to be stopped right here, no matter what.
     
    “Okay,” Brother Stewart says, inspecting our preparations. “You boys ready?”
     
    We nod and hold the crosses to our hearts.
     
    Brother Stewart twists open the jar of holy water and climbs up on the bed, kneeling on the mattress over Joe, one foot still on the floor. For the first time, Joe—or the thing in him—looks scared.
     
    Brother Stewart clears his throat and looks each of us in the eye, borrowing our strength, then leans over Joe, right up close to him, his long nose not six inches from Joe’s face. “I think it’s time you and I had it out, devil.” He straightens up, towering over Joe, and tilts the jelly jar. “Demon, leave this poor wretched servant of the Lord alone.” He drizzles the holy water over Joe’s face, a few drops at a time; it drips onto his nose and mouth, soaking into his collar and the pillow.
     
    That really seems to kick something off with the demon, because Joe starts to cough and cry out through the gag. His arms flail and pull at the ties around his wrists, so hard it looks like the bedposts are about to give. Brother Stewart jumps back just in time to keep from being snatched. Joe’s face is twisted into a grimace of rage and hate like I’ve never seen from him. If he were loose he’d tear Brother Stewart into