Free Rapture Falls by Matt Drabble Page B

first into the wet grass which served as a tonic to spur him on further in his somewhat ungracious retreat.
                  De Payens had by now staggered to the door, he was choking on the acid copper taste of his own blood as it drowned him from the inside, he fell to his knees as the world turned dark, his mind still refusing to accept the facts as it had been so very long since anyone or anything had bested him in such an outrageous manner. He was drifting into the blackness accompanied by a shrill panic stricken scream provided by Delores Griffin, the churches sixty year old resident housekeeper who had just arrived for work and now stood hysterically over his prone body.
                  The call over the radio interrupted McCullums musings before he was even halfway back to the station, he cursed the timing, he had known that something was wrong at the church he could smell it but whatever had happened he had missed it. He knew that he could not answer the call directly as he had no official business being there in the first place, the report was of a serious assault possibly a murder and it would require a senior officer to attend, he pulled the car over and waited. About three minutes later he got the call , “Charlie Alpha two zero” the car’s radio spat out his call sign, “Receiving” he answered, “Reports of a serious assault at St Paul’s church Adamstown uniform attending” the mechanical voice chimed, “Charlie Alpha two zero enroute”. McCullum turned the car around and headed back to the church already feeling responsible for whatever he might find. As he approached, the twirling dancing lights of the ambulances greeted him along with an increasing crowd eager for news, many clasped hands were being wrung with worry over their beloved pastor. McCullum parked his car across from the throng and waded through to the churches now locked and guarded gates, he flashed his ID at the young and nervous looking constable standing alone and los t amidst the agitated audience. He bounded across the churchyard and into St Paul’s, the paramedics were now propelling a figure laid upon a wheeled stretcher through the gloom of the church, the figure was momentarily highlighted by the windows stream of light as it passed through before returning to the gloom in between giving McCullum only a intermittent glimpse of identification. As he rushed forward he was relieved beyond words to see that the figure was not completely covered by the sheet that wrapped it but merely tucked in up the head. He was shocked into temporary bewilderment as he realized that the horizontal motionless man was in fact Father Andrew Jacobs, in his heart he had felt that whatever had happened here the priest was going to be at great risk and he had furiously cursed himself during the panicked drive back . He had been struck by a fierce desire to protect and almost serve the Priest, but now as Jacobs lay under a warm red blanket unconscious he felt that desire ebbing away leaving him bewildered by the departure from his normal senses as though waking from a particularly vivid dream, he pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to draw tears in an attempt to ground himself further.
    McCullum recognized one of the paramedics from his frequent trips to the emergency wards to either interview victims or perpetrators, Ian Durham was a cheerful wiry man in his mid forties, in his experience always one of life’s eternal optimist s .
    “Glad to see it’s you McCullum” Durham said looking ashen faced and distraught, “I hope you get the bastard that did this and cut off his balls” he spat with venom
    In a week of surprises McCullum found the amiable paramedics face one of the most disturbing
    “What have we got Durham” he asked.
    “Some cunt has cut Father Jacobs’s throat, some bastard, some..” spittle froze on his lips as he became speechless with ravenous fury.
    McCullum attempted a soothing tone as the