The Beast of 1977 (Book 1)

Chapter 24

Captain Kangaroo was conversing back and forth with both Mr. Green Jeans and Mr. Moose on the television while Isaac spoke in a low, overcast tone to his father over the phone.

Dressed in the same clothes from the night before, Isaac watched Isaiah crawl and romp about on the floor with his Fisher Price toy phone while he sipped away on his fourth cup of coffee for the morning. Isaac's mind was from the TV and drifting even further away from his son.

Every so often he would stare down at his scarred fingernails that felt as if someone had pierced each of them with sharp needles.

"Isaac, are you still there?" Mr. Mercer worriedly asked.

Shaking himself awake, Isaac replied, "I'm fine, dad. I just got a bad headache. Did the fuzz bring your car back yesterday?"

"Yeah, they brought it back last night. I think the carburetor needs replaced."

Just then, a long pause prevailed. The pause was soon followed by a moan from Isaac's father.

"Son...is everything alright with you? You sure don't sound fine."

Just judging by his father's stretched out gap in speech Isaac could sense that he was stressed over his grueling ordeal. All the young man could do was sit and shut his eyes in angst.

"Yeah, dad, I just need some time to...to work things out."

"Where's Lynn at?"

"She went out to get some more medicine for Isaiah. She said she'll be back before nine."

"Isaac, just relax and let the good Lord take care of everything. You've got a friend in him."

Out of helpless frustration, Isaac threw himself backwards into the couch where he was sitting and began

later on." He flinched, trying

"I get off from work at five, come down to the

be there." Isaac hesitantly said, sitting back and

go

"I will, dad," Isaac sniffed before hanging up

frightened shakiness in his father's tenor that he hadn't heard before; it startled Isaac enough to where he even lost track of where Isaiah was and

squealed out as he handed his father his toy phone to play

across Isaac's battered face before taking the plastic receiver, holding it to his

were customary; Isaiah would just sit and clap his tiny hands as though a parade were trolling right through the living room. The boy was happy to see someone enjoying his

television re-ran reports of the murder of the kidnapper, the dead bodies in his basement

animal could have possibly killed all seven people in one night, and just

his arms Isaac's eyes were locked firmly on the TV as the screen scrolled through every little Sanders girl. Their angelic faces were alive with euphoric vitality as their smiling parents held all four

drool dripped down and out of Isaac's bottom lip the longer he concentrated on the screen. He was completely void of any emotion

out, handing

remembered the generous man offering him a ride two days

"C'mon, man," Isaac struggled as he lifted his aching body from off the couch, "your mom wants you to take a bath before she gets

Isaac promptly removed every item of clothing from off the child's body,

Unlike most children, it was never a strenuous chore to bath Isaiah. The child actually enjoyed being wet; just splashing about in the water was all playtime for him. He

in a high pitched tone. Much like the proverbial 'fingernails across the chalkboard', Isaac couldn't help but to drown in the hellacious notion that everything that happened two nights earlier was nowhere to be found in his mind. Even the

He recalled screaming of all sorts, from that of adults to children, and yet, had it not been for the TV, not one person's face

splashed into Isaac's dead face,

"Quit playing with that thing, boy, it'll turn into a habit." Isaac scolded, shoving the child's right hand away from his submerged

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