Free Most of Me by Mark Lumby Page B

cross of Christ was on the wall far behind it. The only way out was to get passed him. But I couldn’t. If he got me, he’d tear me apart. I was witness to that; I knew how easy it would be for it to rip apart my body. I was trapped. I stepped back against the doors and tried opening them from behind my back. They were too solid to tease a rattle from them. They were fixed.
    The Pacemaker shuffled closer; there was no haste about it. It was sluggish in its movement. The cloth that shrouded it was soaked with the blood of Father Thomas. I could hear its laboured breathing. The foul odour it emitted was filling the church. Damp earth, burning, and rotten flesh was becoming unbearable now. It was getting close and the spell increasingly pungent.
    “Stop! Wait!” I screamed at it, raising my hands in surrender. But it ignored my plea and continued to approached.
    I shouted, “ Carl! Carl Winters! If you can hear this, stop him now! ” I waited, but there was nothing. Still it came closer, and I’m sure that if it stretched out with its long arm, it could reach me. “ Carl! ” I screamed again, my voice crumbling. “ Grandad! Please, I’m coming back! This doesn’t have to happen! I’m your grandson! I’ll do as you ask! I’ll do my duty! I’ll come home! ” I rattled the doors one more time, pushing at them will all the strength and desperation I had; they opened with no effort at all and I fell through. I must have hit my head hard because when I awoke, it was dark. How no one noticed that I was spread across the steps was a mystery. I pushed myself to my feet, nursing my head and checking my finger tips for blood. I was unsteady on my feet, but managed to make my way into the church. I searched around for it. There was nothing but an old smell, of stone and wood and dust. The Pacemaker had gone. Father Thomas was slumped behind a church bench, his throat cut. I was holding the knife and had dried blood on my hands and clothes.
    It’s happening all over again.
     
    ***
     
    I spent the night in the car looking over the sea. I removed the slip of paper Father Thomas had written. I wondered if I had killed him; I wondered if I had killed Ben and his Mom, too. But then I told myself that it was just another one of Carl Winters tricks. He was making sure I had know where else to turn. And in truth, I hadn’t. I opened the note. It wasn’t a letter, just a list of notes that Father Thomas had scribbled down. A collection of numbered lines.
     
    1: God cast Lucifer from heaven to Earth and below. There is only above and below,
    Heaven and Hell. Perhaps hell is Earth and there is no below.
    2: Daniel must go back to the house and confront his demons. And then what?
    3: Demons? Is Carl Winters a demon? Is he dead? His power comes from the mirror.
    4: Should the mirror be destroyed?
    5: The Pacemaker? Is it real?
    6: The mirror? 7 years of hell on Earth? I think hell is already here.
    7: The mirror is the keys. Daniel should destroy the mirror.
    8: Can Carl Winters be stopped? I really don’t know.
    9: Is Daniel lying? Did he kill those people?
    10: Is Daniel a demon? Is he evil and should I trust him?
    11: The mirror should definitely be destroyed, but will Daniel have the courage? Will he
    weaken to its powers? He might not be strong enough. He might absorb it.
     
    I folded the paper and returned it into my jacket pocket. “Just his thoughts,” I reminded myself. I couldn’t judge Father Thomas just as he can’t judge me, so I can’t allow myself to be hurt by his thoughts. It was only ink and paper. He didn’t really know me, but he could be right. I could be a murderer…a liar. If I didn’t know, then I suppose he’s entitled to speculate. But my heart tells me that he’s wrong, and thats enough. I trust myself and so I know that I must go back to that house and, whether Carl is there or not, I need to break the mirror. I need to end this curse or whatever it is that consumes that house.
    This ends. It