THE SECOND SIGHT EPISODE 21
® 20+ SNVL
Location: JOE BOAT’S RESIDENCE
Boat struggles to his feet, but the room does a crazy swaying act, and he bends quickly to hold his knees and allow it to pass.
He zigzags his way to the living room.
He reaches for his mobile phone, but it isn’t in its usual position in his top left breast pocket. Somehow, somewhere in the night I has lost it, probably during the fight.
His vision is a little clear now, and he walks over to the phone on Uncle Samson’s little desk where he does all his fake Bible readings and writes his little biblical dissertations which have all been atrocious blasphemies in view of what the man really is.
The fake …the damn little fake!
Boat lifts the receiver.
There is no dialing tone; the phone is dead.
He traces the cable anxiously.
There is a connecting device that sometimes comes off.
All that needs to be done is to fix the crimped node back into its socket.
But it is intact that night, and as he traces the line he sees that the wire has been cut cleanly, and the pair of scissors he sees on the desk gives him the rest of the story.
Uncle Samson had come in, suspected – or known, somehow – that Boat is no longer the little toast he had been frying, and decided to play it safe and cut him off.
There is no time to lose now.
He has to move, keep moving, and find his father, who is Boat’s only hope now against a future that seems bleaker by the second.
He drops the receiver and turns.
And that is when he sees it.
He has not been expecting it.
He knows danger is coming in the form of Uncle Samson, or from other deadly things like Hideous and the other minions.
Boat has seen them, and somehow he has come to know them, even though in a brutal manner, and his mind is slowly building a sort of resistance – even if paper-thin – against them.
But Boast isn’t prepared for what he sees now!
It is not as terrible-looking as Hideous or the other gemons are.
Really, it is a normal sort of thing, but to see it like Boat is seeing it now almost drives Boat mad.
It is simply the most awful and sickest thing Boat has ever seen!
Uncle Samson’s television is on.
It is tuned to CNN where an anchor is speaking The sound is muted, and Boat can see the anchor just moving his lips moving and his hands gesticulating, as the news bar scrolls below the screen.
The plasma television makes the room a whole lot bright, but it isn’t the kind of light that will be able to cast a clear, detailed shadow on the wall, even if someone is standing real close to it. Its light is not strong enough, and any shadow it casts would have been diffused.
But there is a shadow on the wall opposite the television!
A crystal-clear black shadow!
It is shaped like a man, but it is not a man.
It has three huge hairy legs.
It broadens towards its chest, and its arms are unbelievably thick and stunted. It had three huge fingers on its hands.
Its head is extremely huge, its forehead elongated and thrust forward. On top of its head is a long, curved horn. It was a gigantic thing, so big that its head is thrown across the ceiling as it straightens up from its scrutiny of Boat.
Uncle Samson is considered a giant, but this creature is five times that size.
Boat looks at the spot on the carpet where a figure ought to be standing to cast a shadow like that on the wall, but there is absolutely nothing.
But the temperature in the room has dropped several degrees suddenly. It is a warm African night, and Boat isn’t supposed to feel cold – but he is freezing!
There is a smell in the room too – rancid, pungent, stinking – too terrible to breathe.
It is like rotten seaweed, the scent of the dirtiest part of the sea.
What is casting that shadow?
Is it in the room with Boat, looking at and appraising him? Or is that what it is – just a shadow?
What diabolical evil has taken so much interest in Boat?
Trouble is, it is nearer to the main door than Yaw boat is!
His mind is definitely not playing tricks on him!
The horned Shadow is real!
It is that same shadow which has been thrown on the ground in Fairview after the murder of Pastor Geoffrey Sam!
Boat feels his heart thumping so harshly that he is scared his heart will just explode.
His terror is complete, and for several seconds he just gawks at the Shadow-Thing.
Suddenly insanity is knocking on the door of his mind, and he simply cannot take it any longer.
With a sound which is half-cry and half-whimper Boat dashes quickly towards the door. The moment moves he sees the Shadow-Thing’s right hand moving, the three huge fingers curling themselves into a fist.
Boat is five paces from the door, whimpering like a rabid dog, expecting to run into something solid, something enveloping.
He keeps his eyes on that thing on the wall, and when he is just a pace from the door the fist of the monster flashes off the wall, and smashes into Boat’s stomach with such terrible force that he wails, and doubles up on the floor with his buttocks stuck in the air as the most terrible pain he has ever experienced ravages his body!
The pain was paralysing.
Boat cannot breathe for several seconds, and for a terrible moment he has no wish to get off the floor. Even the slightest movement caused him crippling pain.
Boat watches that Shadow-Thing through bleary eyes as the darkness slowly closes in on him. The freezing cold is stronger, and the rotten scent is so bad that Boat gags.
The Shadow-Thing is immobile, but its neck is craned, watching Boat.
Suddenly it stands upright and its head whips round towards the doors.
Boat thinks he hears a frantic growl – but he might have been mistaken.
For a brief moment the cold is so terrible that Boat thinks he might turn into a pillar of ice, and the scent is so terrible and nauseating that he stops d breathing and gags on it.
Suddenly the main door opens!
Out of the corner of his eyes Boat sees a brightness filling the doorway, so brilliantly that he has to shut his eyes to slits against it.
Someone wearing that amazing force-field has just entered the room.
Shortly afterwards someone speaks from the doorway, restoring his sanity.
The voice gasps and starts to speak rapidly.
Boat recognizes that voice!
It belongs to JOSIAH NSIAH, one of the security details.
He is a small intense man who is downright serious with his work. He is so time conscious that Uncle Samson has nicknamed him ‘Wristwatch’.
My good God, Mr. Boat! What happend to you?
He is such a devout Christian that there was a little bible tucked away in his clothing somewhere at all times. At the least chance he gets he would take out that bible and begin to read.
Boat has often chastised him over that habit. He has never liked Josiah Nsiah liked him much because he is a Christian freak.
He used to get on Boat’s nerves with his staunch belief, and there had been times he had wanted him replaced for no tangible reason.
But that night Boat could’ve hugged him.
I thought I heard a scream here and came to investigate.
His force-field is brilliant, and when Boat looks over Mr. Nsiah’s shoulder the Shadow-Thing is gone.
It has fled at the sight of Mr. Nsiah’s full incredible force-field!
He grated out the insult, but his mouth is so wounded and mushy, and his brain so warbled, that it comes out sounding like ‘Basharl’ or something like that.
Nothing, Josh. Floor slippery. Lost my footing and fell down.
Oh, I see. Sorry, sir. Please let me help you up. But you’re hurt. On your mouth, and your face seems swollen. Must’ve been a very bad fall.
Boat puts his arm around the man’s shoulder and waits for his breathing to slow down, and the faintness to go away.
Josh, Uncle Samson is in there in his room. Do you know if he came back with my Dad?
No, sir. Mr. Basoah informed us that your father is still at the Church. Come, let me help you to the house.
No, no. It is very urgent that I see my father. Do you have your phone?
The man helps Boat out of the door and tries to stop, but Boat propels him forward, scared that Uncle Samson will be on his tail pretty soon, and he is
certain he can’t be able to best him a second time that night.
The man fumbles a well-used Nokia from his pocket.
Here’s my phone, sir, but surprisingly all the mobile networks seem to be off tonight. When I was leaving home this evening my little boy was not feeling so good. He had a bad temperature. I’ve been trying to reach my wife but can’t get through. My colleagues on the different networks are also experiencing the same challenges.
He has speaks with a little sigh of exasperation.
Once again Boat senses that it is no coincidence.
The net is drawing tighter, and he knows that dark forces are closing in, cutting off all his avenues of escape.
Why didn’t you use the phone in the house, Josh?
He already knows the answer that is coming.
The man stares at Boat as if he is from outer space.
Didn’t you hear the news, sir? The telephone company apologized to residents of the ARA that they are experiencing problems here, and their technicians are working on it. Service will be restored as soon as they complete. At the moment, all the land lines are jammed up.
Boat shudders from the sudden horror.
The chase is on, and he knows something worse than death, a most terrible destiny, is just around the corner, waiting for him.
Boat rushes into the main house just long enough to take the keys to his father’s new Mercedes Benz Coupe.
As he gets in he sees a huge hulk labouring up the incline from that evil house below, and he knows Uncle Samson is still in the reckoning.
Boat reverses violently, the tires screeching in protest, and shoots out of the gates with the powerful car almost suspended in the air.
Out on the open road he guns the car, and it responds like a bullet, eating up the miles hungrily.
Boat didn’t care a hoot about police speed patrols.
His life is in danger, and he has to be with his father at any cost!
A BATTLE OF WILLS
Location: STREETS OF MADINA
Boat is bruised and badly battered.
He tries to ignore the pain that is racking his body as he drives.
He has to stay focused and relegate all other matters to the background. Crazy things have happened, and he is in a world where insanity and reality are bedfellows.
There was no time to dwell on the horrors that he has witnessed; he can only speculate on the role Uncle Samson had played in his life, all through the years.
He is being prepared for a terrible future, and the man in charge of that destruction has turned out to be none other than a man he loves almost as much as his father.
Africans have a proverb of sorts for that kind of betrayal; the beast that will give you that fatal bite is right in your clothes!
How absolutely befitting!
What would have happened in that chamber of horrors? What would Samson have done with him?
And worse of all: what is that Shadow-Thing?
A shadow that can move, not cast by anything! Maybe too powerful for even an unblinded man to see physically?
Boat hits town in record time. It is a miracle that he has no cops on his tail, but then again, it isn’t a very usual kind of night.
He pays no heed to the uglies this time. He is however a little surprised to find that instead of fear he now feels contempt – and yes, a whole lot of anger – towards them.
He wishes he has the power to reach out and squeeze the damn things till their eyes and innards pops out. He wishes he can kick them, cut them and burn them all to hell. H wishes he can stomp on them repeatedly until they moan and beg for mercy.
Yes, for the very first time he just wants to maim them!
And in that crazy instant Boat remembers Anderson again!
Everything has panned out. He has received the damn gift which, to him anyway, is a curse. As that crazy pastor had stated in his letter, he is an Unblind, but he does not have the powers that real Unblinds have over these beasties.
What he has seen in Uncle Samson’s – no, not Uncle Samson anymore, but plain Samson – had also confirmed what the pastor had said about a demon getting ready to possess his body.
So if what Anderson said has become the truth, it means the rest is also going to happen. It is that simple, and it is that scary.
According to Anderson, Boat is in the middle now, and he has only two ways to go: either end up as a demon-controlled evil freak, or a God-empowered good freak chasing horrible spiritual creatures out of the world.
Sure, Boat wishes he has his own force-field. It will be fun seeing those dirty sluts scampering because of him. But that is as far as he wants it to go. He is not carved out for that life, and he wants nothing to do with it.
His choices are limited though. He knows he will be forced to make a choice if he is not helped soon. That means he has to be with his father; only he can be of help now.
He has money, and he believes in the faith Anderson has, and he seems to understand the workings of all that spiritual stuff, and knows the play of the turf.
Sure, Joe Boat had expressed the wish that his son will accept the terrible gift and live the life of an Unblind, but Boat knows he has leverage over his father.
Joe Boat is his father, and he loves Boat. He will not like to see his son go through the horrors he has been exposed to, and in the final analysis Boat is sure his father would relent and help him purge that awful gift.
He is so lost in his thoughts that he almost runs smack into the back of a huge Ford wagon front of him. He brakes hard, and the powerful car’s engine whines with protest, and the car comes to a shuddering halt just inches from the back bumper of the Ford.
Boat lets out his breath slowly.
He becomes aware of his surroundings gradually.
There is a cacophony of horn blasts all around him, and he finds himself stuck in the middle of an unusual traffic. His side of the road is not moving, and neither are the cars coming from the opposite direction.
Many of the drivers are out of their cars, gesticulating wildly, evidently annoyed at something. Boat winds down the window and pokes my head out, and immediately his ears are assaulted by the din of the horns.
He begins to get out, and then he is struck by a sudden realization; he cannot see any uglies around!
There are a lot of people, but there are no horrible spirits anywhere. He gets out quickly and looks around for any force-field that will signify the presence of a true Christian, but there is nothing.
It brings a sick feeling to his guts, and suddenly Yaw Boat very afraid again.
It is so ironic in a way, really, that for the first time that his eyes have been spared the horrors of a terrible trauma, he suddenly feels abnormal, strangely incomplete!
The traffic appears to be locked ahead of him, so he makes his way slowly past the shouting people as he moves forward to ascertain what is causing the hold up.
From snatches of their heated complaints of the stranded drivers he gets the gist of what might have caused the traffic.
Up ahead is an intersection, and it seems a convoy of somebody important is on its way through, and traffic wardens have stopped traffic on both sides of the intersection to allow the VIP to sail through.
Boat knows it won’t take more than a few minutes before traffic starts flowing again. It is nothing new; it happens all the time. But Boat cannot accept it. He has reached a stage of existence where every occurrence is abnormal until proven otherwise.
A little cold shiver crawls its way craftily up his spine as it dawns on him that this can also be another net, designed to delay him until the opening is tightly cinched shut.
There are huge cops all over the place, paying deaf ears to the barrage of voices, trying to calm down the impatient drivers in their cold persuasive ways.
Up ahead a particularly large cop is urging a driver to get back inside his car and take his little son with him. Evidently the little boy is hyperactive, and can decide to do any number of foolish things young people his age are prone to do.
The driver picks up his son, tosses him into his car, and enters the car himself.
Just then the sirens come, and the dispatch riders shot past on their sleek motorcycles. Boat heaves an audible sigh of relief and begins to turn away, intending to head back to his car.
And then the huge policeman turns, and fixes Boat with a stare.
The mark of the beast blazes a terrible red on his forehead, and his eyes are a violent yellow; no blacks, no whites… just that sea of rabid yellow!
His nose trembles and lifts upwards, and his lips came off his teeth in a snarl.
Another possessed vessel!
Damn! Oh, hell!
The huge cop begins to walk towards Boat, his right hand reaching for the thick baton at his waist.
It is the same old story again.
Now Boat understands why the uglies are absent, and why there has been a road block at that particular time. His suspicions have been bang on, and he smiles grimly.
He is now reading the pitch right, beginning to get a grasp of the rules, and the all-important foul plays.
Under no circumstance is he going to be allowed to see his father.
Here is a senior police officer who can arrest him on any number of charges, render him totally immobile and take him to wherever he is commanded to take Boat.
Boat sees that there is a holstered gun on his hips too, and Boat raises his hands midway in the air, presenting the cop with a picture of a docile sheep, a man who neither seeks nor wants to give any trouble.
The wildness disappeared from the cop’s eyes a bit when he sees that Boat has evidently given up, and although his left hand is on his baton, he makes no attempt to pull it out.
He was tall, maybe a head shorter than Boat, but he is broad and bound in muscle.
You’re coming with me, young man.
His voice is a deafening roar that almost bursts Boat’s eardrums… but of course, Boat is the only one that hears that voice.
Alright, officer. I give up. I don’t want any trouble.
The cop falls for it, and relaxes his guard just for a fraction of a second, and that is all that Boat needs.
He spins suddenly, his right elbow a propelling weapon that smashes against the policeman’s face.
Boat feels the man’s nose crunching, his head snapping back with the impact, and a guttural scream emerging from his throat.
Blood spurted from his nose and covers the face of a pretty woman leaning out of an Alpha Romeo sedan.
The cop raises his hands to his face, still whimpering in agony. That is both a wrong and daft move. He lays his body wide open for attacks, and Boat obliges by ramming a foot into his balls. The man yowls with fresh pain and drops his hands to cup the blazing agony in his groin.
Another daft move.
Boat chops him across his throat with the rigid edge of his right hand, and he falls down, gagging for breath, dry-retching and writhing in agony.
Some of the drivers, shocked at the apparent unprovoked attack on a policeman by an evidently mad civilian, are screaming for help as Boat turns and flees towards his car.
The presidential convoy has passed, and already the cars stuck in the traffic are beginning to move again.
Yaw Boat is about twenty meters from his father’s Mercedes when it explodes.
Just like that!
One moment it is sitting there, pretty and large and waiting for him to enter and drive away …and then in the next moment it jumps slightly as it explodes with a loud booming noise, and bluish-yellow and red fire engulfs it.
Glass fragments shoot out like bullets, and Boat drops to the street fast to avoid his eyes and face getting cut up with glass fragments.
People are screaming.
The car just in front of the Mercedes bucks as all its glass exploded – windscreen, back glass and windows. A grey-haired man who has been getting into a huge Hummer falls down, blood running down his face in rivulets as more glass showers down on him.
A speeding Chevy from the opposite side of the road skids off and climbs the intersection embankment and plunges full head into a fancy sports car parked just behind the burning Mercedes.
Boat sees it all with a coldly disinterested eye because his whole attention is focused on his burning car. As the yellow flames lick upwards into the night sky, Boat’s horrified eyes sees evil once again.
Rising from the depths of the fire, gaining height and stature, is a gigantic three-legged shadow with a horn on its head!
The shock is paralysing, and Boat’s mouth opens in a soundless scream. He back-pedals, gets to his feet, and then turns to flee.
That is when Hideous rises up from the middle of the street just in front of Yaw Boat and wraps itself around Boat’s legs.
Boat tries to move, but he can’t so much as lift a leg. He remembers Bob immediately. Poor old Bob, held right in the middle of the street, unable to move, watching as the truck that will kill him drew nearer and nearer.
He fights harder, desperately, but to no avail. Hideous has fixed him good.
Boat sees a dark shape moving across the side of the Hummer: it was the Shadow-Thing!
Boat sees its huge three-fingered right hand close into a fist and begins to swing.
He knows that the blow is coming for him again, and fear cripples his mind.
No, no…. NOOOOO!
He steels himself for the blow, but even then when it comes it is hard and laden with pain.
It smashes into Boat’s stomach, and he gasps with the pain. Another blow, a roundhouse this time, smashes against his right cheek and he falls down, blood spurting from his nostrils.
Boat hits the back of his head hard against the tarmac, and he lays there, weak and totally done for, hardly able to move a finger.
Dirty evil bastards!
Two cops appear suddenly, and they ignore the wounded cop completely and comes towards Boat. One is holding a drawn Police Special, whilst the other is dangling a pair of handcuffs in his hand.
On their foreheads, of course, is that one special thing – the mark of the beast, 666, blazing blood red.
The painful tears of failure, of being captured, stings Boat’s eyes.
A crowd is gathering, and Boat knows deep down that his chances of escape are really slim.
He can see the shocked looks on the faces around him. Little innocent people who don’t know what is going down, and obviously thinks, erroneously, that Yaw Boat is a criminal.
There is no fight left in Boat.
He struggLes to a sitting position.
To be continued…
©Aaron Ansah – Agyeman
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