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

later on." He flinched, trying with all his might not to

work at five, come down to the

said, sitting back and wiping the

"I gotta go to work now. Be

will, dad," Isaac

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

child squealed out as he handed

came across Isaac's battered face before taking the plastic receiver,

The mock conversations were customary; Isaiah would just sit and clap his tiny hands as though a parade were trolling right through

son played until the newsbreak on the television re-ran reports of the murder of the kidnapper, the dead bodies in his basement and the mutilation of the

the usual speculations from the usual talking heads on just what kind of animal could have possibly killed all seven people in one night, and just

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

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

"Here!" Isaiah blurted out, handing his father his red View-Master

appeared on the television. He remembered the generous man offering him a ride two days earlier, but what seemed to cause Isaac's head to ache even more was the shock of knowing that he ended

"C'mon, man," Isaac struggled as he lifted his aching body from off the couch,

off the child's body, cut on the warm water and then

in the water was all playtime for

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 remembrances of the grueling strain of his physical transformation had ostensibly been erased, which was hard to fathom considering the pain that he had been in since

He recalled screaming of all sorts, from that of adults to children, and yet, had it

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

turn into a habit." Isaac scolded, shoving the child's right hand

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