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."

backwards into the couch where he was sitting and

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

off from work at five, come down to the church and we

Isaac hesitantly said,

"I gotta go to work now. Be careful,

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

heard before; it startled Isaac enough

squealed out as he handed his father his

forced smile came across Isaac's battered face before taking the plastic receiver, holding it to his ear and saying,

tiny hands as though a parade were trolling right through the living room. The boy was

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

heads on just what kind of animal could have possibly killed all seven people in

Isaiah frolicking 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

the longer he concentrated on the screen. He was completely void of any emotion at

"Here!" Isaiah blurted out, handing

hands and knees all shook in perfect unison as Leroy Cummins' sharply dressed photo appeared on the television. He remembered the generous man offering him

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

every item of clothing from off the child's body, cut on the warm water and then placed his boy inside the tub. With only a bar of soap Isaac scrubbed Isaiah from head to

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 knew that he should have

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

into Isaac's dead face, alerting him to find his son fiddling with

"Quit playing with that thing, boy, it'll turn into a habit."

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