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

"Dad...I got something to tell you later on." He flinched, trying with all his might not to sound like he

work at five, come down to the church and we can talk then. I'd stop by, but the car won't

said, sitting

"I gotta go to work

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

father's tenor that he hadn't heard before; it startled Isaac enough to where he even lost track of where

"Dah," the child squealed out as he handed

before taking the plastic receiver, holding it

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 toys as much as

Back and forth father and son played until the newsbreak on the television re-ran reports of

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

in 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 of their children in their

and out of Isaac's bottom lip the longer he concentrated on the screen. He was completely void of any emotion at that instant, as though someone had shut off

out, handing his father his red

appeared on the television. He remembered the generous man offering him a

aching body from off the couch, "your mom wants you to take a bath

every item of clothing from off the child's body, cut on the warm

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 knew that he should have been paying close attention to the baby at every second, but Isaac's brain just couldn't remain

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.

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 could materialize

splashed into Isaac's dead face,

it'll turn into a habit." Isaac scolded, shoving

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