The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

With two other people getting off before him, Charles hobbled off of the city bus and onto the pavement. He stood for a few seconds and looked to his left and to his right before eventually making up his mind to turn right. With his trusty cane the man carried on down the sidewalk without the comfort of a jacket on such a cool morning. He was being compelled to move forward as fast as his crippled legs could take him. His large girth carelessly bumped into one person after another; and being as big as he was no one seemed too brave to even turn and reprimand the forceful man.

Charles was nearing a location, he had its sights locked in like a finely tuned target, all he needed was to carry himself a few more yards ahead and he was there. Everything and everyone was collapsing in on him to the point where just thinking of Isaac became a labor. For the first time since he had died, Charles no longer wanted to even remember his son. He wanted the boy completely erased from his psyche as soon as possible. And as a matter of fact, he wanted everyone to be out of his range. It was such a pulsating tidal wave of emotion that even the pain in his legs was gradually dissipating.

Charles had arrived. Before him was the abandoned women's shelter. Its dark front section made the building appear as if it were well over a hundred years old, even though it hadn't been used since the summertime. Charles stood at the front steps and just studied the stained painted writing on the boarded up front door. His face was a picture of total concentration and defiance. He couldn't even grab hold of one single thought inside his head without balling up his fists in rage.

Giving the passing sidewalk dwellers one last glance, Charles carried himself along the side of the building until he met up with the alley. He then turned to see the backdoor that had only a heavy chain wrapped around the double locks. With a brooding glare gracing his warm face, Charles stepped forward and gripped the steel chain as tight as he could before twisting its links until a portion of it broke loose.

Then, with his strong right hand he grabbed hold of the door's handle and pushed until the door flung wide open. Making sure no one was roaming about in the alley Charles made his way inside before shutting the door behind him. The kitchen area was cold and dark despite daylight shining through the misty, cobwebbed windows. Charles looked all around and took in a whiff of air that resembled both must and something burning.

Once he had had enough of the kitchen both he and his cane went for the front gathering area. Beyond the threshold he emerged to find only a large, empty space where women and children all once assembled for shelter. The passing noise outside from the vehicles and people had pretty much vanished by that point inside his ears. Charles' focus was solely upon the place in which he was standing. From the four, bare walls to the wooden floor where spots of blood could still be seen in various places, he made sure not to miss one detail. As Charles turned around and around out of nowhere he spotted a small cross still nailed to one of the walls. How he managed to miss it the first time was beyond him, but he was long over questioning the mysterious. Instead, he stood before the symbol and looked at it in such subdued awe that it appeared as though it were the very first time he had ever laid eyes upon such a thing before.

With quivering jaws Charles drew closer to the cross before uttering, "So...here I am, once more. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Both his right hand and the cane that was secured in it began trembling before the cross. "I haven't heard a word from you in months, and now...now here you are?" His voice grew intense. "Here you are, of all places. I have been asking and begging and pleading with you to guide me. I have served you for all these years, and yet and still I hear nothing from you. I know you're there. Now more than ever I believe in you, but I don't believe for one moment that—

At that very moment, right in the midst of his rant, something began creeping towards Charles from behind. The man spun around to see a figure in all white coming around a corner all hunched over. The person stood for a second before lifting its head and revealing a set of shiny, white fangs and painted white face. Charles had seen the person before, and spotting her at that juncture didn't seem to surprise him all too much. She stood and smiled at him from just sixty feet away clear on the other side of the room.

behind him came flying at the back of

a reason, and that reason was becoming more apparent as she began to lurch closer to Charles. Attached to the back of her all

Charles turned back around and reached down to the floor to pick up the

"In the name of Christ Jesus our Lord and Savior, I bid you be

From one corner to the other was nothing but dark red, like someone had screwed in a crimson light bulb and allowed it to shine ever so brightly. Charles couldn't tell if he was imagining the scene or living in a reality, but there was one thing that he was sure of, he was

are you?" He

and directing it straight at Charles. Instantly, the man went down to his knees in pain and began hollering his lungs out. He looked at his own two hands to see them grow into claws. Fur soon began protruding from them as well before he

so hard that blood began to shoot right out

mumbling word at the poor man's expense. Charles tried in vain to crawl towards the woman but his efforts were halted by the excruciating pain of his face that felt as if it were on fire as it

even if it meant that he had to bring it

white, male police officer rushed in through the kitchen with another officer

holding his face while both officers attempted to gather the man. "Please help me!"

do was open his eyes and glare around to see not only the evil woman gone, but also

it was when he first awoke earlier in the day. "I...I felt it!" He stuttered and stammered like

helped Charles to his feet. "C'mon, buddy, you can't be in here. We'll take you down to