A Trip Down South
A little story for criticism please guys.
LOGAN
I sat at the back of the church silently with my feet crossed at the ankles on the pew in front of me and my arms folded across my chest. For a hall so big, there seemed to be a lot of spare seats. I yawned slightly and didn’t even bother to try and cover it up.
The minister stood on the altar to the left behind a podium. He had a perfect view of me and every time I seemed to catch his eye, his visible discomfort made me smile. What set me off even more was the fact he kept clearing his throat and faltering during his closing sermon.
Haha, c’mon Chief, make him squirm.
I didn’t think I looked that intimidating. Maybe he knew why I was here, maybe he could sense what was inside of me coursing through my veins and speaking in my head. At least now I knew why they called me Daemíron - after all, they had made me part demon.
“Amen,” I looked up as people bustled past with me a certain sense of morbid glumness. I always thought church-goers were cheery folks who socialised at fêtes but obviously it depended where you went. Apparently this side of this particular town didn’t even seem to have any faith in themselves never mind God. I took my feet from the pew as an elderly woman made a few tut sounds in my direction.
Stupid self-righteous bitch, snap her neck Chief!
I folded my sunglasses and placed them in my jacket pocket. I had soon discovered after my second loss of control, that my friend didn’t take too kindly to bright sunshine or holy ground. It had been protesting wildly as soon as I walked across the threshold of the church like a child having a tantrum.
The minister stood awkwardly waiting for me at the front row, “I thought you’d come after that last kidnap/murder.”
“So you won’t be surprised to see me,” I smiled.
“You rogues just think you can appear anytime you want,” he spluttered.
I arched an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms. “If you don’t want me to help then I’ll just leave. It’s not like I have an obligation. I’m here out of the goodness of my heart.”
Yeah! And the goodness of my heart...wait...I don’t wanna be here!
He paused for a moment and handed me a pile of hymn books. “Well, at least make yourself useful.”
I didn’t protest. “So what can you tell me?”
“No, first I want to know about you,” he asked, rightfully. “Where did you hear about this?”
“Newspapers, radio reports, the internet,” I shrugged, collecting books from each row, “it’s amazing the resources I can get at the click of a button. There are actually conspiracy sites about me - not naming me of course.”
“Of course,” he nodded slightly. “So I assume you’re not sent here by the government.”
“Naturally,” I smirked to myself.
“Can I ask your name?” he asked simply.
“Logan Chase,” I answered.
“Oh...” he trailed off and I looked up at him. He had paused and looked like he was regretful over something.
“Oh? What does that mean?” I frowned and handed him my pile of hymn books. He hastily took it and began to walk away from me. “Hey!”
The minister looked back before attempting to scurry away again. “We’ve been warned to stay away from you, call Hemingway so they can send someone to apprehend you.” I laughed suddenly and he jumped at the noise. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t believe it,” I shook my head. “You know, I’m not even that dangerous until I run out of medication.”
“M-medication?” he stammered. “W-what’s that for?”
“Oh, because they decided to experiment on putting a demon’s essence in a human body,” I answered simply, preparing myself for the possible attack that might follow. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know they were doing that but now I’m stuck with it.”
“So what does the medication do? Like...control it?” he asked. It was then that I realised this man looked very, very young for a minister and I wondered if he was maybe just an apprentice. I should’ve probably asked for a more experienced preacher.
“It keeps my body from rejecting it so I don’t...explode or something,” I answered nonchalantly. Once upon a time just contemplating that thought sent a cold fear through my body, nowadays, I was so close to running out of pills that I didn’t care. In fact, I was quite intrigued to see what would happen. “Anyway, do you want this sorted out or not?”
He seemed reluctant so I turned away and began to walk towards the doors.
I walked deliberately and slowly counted in my head to ten with each second step. “Wait!”
No, keep goin’, keep goin’!
I stopped dead and turned my head to look toward him with a lazy and bored look on my face. “Can I assume you require my services?”
The man shuffled a bit closer then seemed to change his mind. “I’ll confirm it with the senior pastor, if you’d just wait here.”
“I’d rather wait outside,” I drawled, slipping my sunglasses back on and preparing a cigarette for lighting.
It looked like it was going to rain from the dark overcast clouds. Even so, Daemíron didn’t want me to take off my sunglasses. I stood just outside the gates and leaned against the iron fencing. I could feel the heat from the metal pressing against my palm. The only reason this was affecting me was because of Daemíron’s blood.
I smoked three cigarettes before the senior Pastor came out to have a look at me if nothing else. “Mr Chase.”
I gave him a slight nod. “You’ll appreciate that I’m more comfortable out here.”
“Well then, we’ll talk through the fence in case you try anything,” he replied simply with a sharp tone of displeasure.
“Don’ make the mistake of thinkin’ a holy fence will stop me if it wanted to kill you,” I smiled sweetly before pressing both hands against the iron bars to reiterate my partial-threat. “So what do you say about my offer?”
“What exactly is your offer Mr Chase?” he asked carefully. He had thinning ginger hair blowing across the top of his head and I found it slightly hypnotic the more I watched it.
“Simple, I deal with your...infestation and you don’ tell Hemingway I was here,” I told him firmly.
“You don’t want money?” he frowned.
“Of course not,” I scoffed. “Can’ be taking from churches, whether God is real or not this place makes them scared and that’s always a good thing in my book. Your money is better spent elsewhere rather than on me.”
The senior Pastor watched me carefully. “They told us to keep you occupied if we saw you so that you could be taken in again.”
“Well Padre I can see in your eyes that you ain’t called them and I appreciate that, believe me,” I nodded gratefully. “They only want t’ apprehend me ‘cause I took an extended leave without really telling ‘em. Don’t worry; I’m not wanted for murder.”
What a lie. I like it when you lie. Shut up.
I was beginning to get a headache. I put my hand to my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Okay, you have a deal,” he agreed. “All we know is that everything seems to be happening ten blocks east of here.”
“Excellent,” I nodded slightly and held my hand out through the bars for him. “I’ll get back to you soon.”
He reluctantly shook my hand, taking my contact card from it and I felt him watching my every move as I walked east.
As soon as I got out of his view, I changed direction and headed back to my motel. I knew exactly where everything was happening already. Going to them was merely a courtesy because I could easily have done it without them knowing. This way I was counting on someone telling Hemingway I had been here. Psychology told me that once you told someone not to do something, they generally did it. It’s all about those child-like impulses. If it wasn’t going to be the senior pastor then definitely the apprentice.
I closed the door behind me and immediately took off the sunglasses. It was dark enough in here anyway because I kept the blinds closed and the ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice on the door. The room was a mess. Papers full of scribbled notes were cast everywhere; all over the floor, the desk...even something was sitting beside the sink in the bathroom. I really needed to clean up. Anyone who tried to rob this place would walk in, read a piece of paper I’d scrawled all over and change their mind with the understanding that I was a raving lunatic.
I had to keep notes though because I didn’t have a computer or books with me. I just had my brain and anything that I - or Daemíron - remembered was written down almost immediately for reference.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and let myself fall backwards. The ceiling was peeling.
Women go on top, Chief, they won’t notice the ceiling.
I groaned and closed my eyes so it couldn’t see. It had been particularly noisy today because I had made it go into a church - immature.
I am not.
I didn’t like the idea that even if I did get intimate with anyone I’d have this voice inside my head urging me on at my most vulnerable states. At first, with Ana I thought it was just her kinky weirdness that was rubbing off on me but later discovered it wasn’t really my thoughts. Just attempts at influence.
My personal mobile was lying beside the pillow. I rarely took it out with me these days because someone always tried to call me. Whether it be Lincoln demanding where I was, Hemingway trying to get through to shout hell at me or Alex - fuck, Alex - it was easier to leave it behind. Sometimes I wished I’d left it completely back at my flat.
Alex, though. Hearing her voice on the voicemail always made me flinch a little. The fact I cared about someone that much irritated Daemíron immensely. She used to call me every day; it grew to once a week and now, after two years of being missing in action, she rarely called at all. I suspected that the only instances that she did call was when she was drunk and with no control over her emotions. Even then, it showed she still cared enough to worry. I did miss her. I felt guilty more often than not that I had left her and Lara. I could tell she was disappointed in me before I had left by her reluctance and slight disgust at me trying to move on from my wife so quickly. She never did understand that I’d been moving on from my wife long before we separated, actually, pretty much since the month after we married.
Lincoln always told me that marrying Shauna was a mistake that I had made and that it wasn’t real love. Who am I to preach about real love? I’ve never even had a proper, committed relationship and I’d been married for three years. If I was a coward I would’ve blamed my infidelity on the thing inside of me. It loved that period of my life and I knew this because it constantly reminded me of it when I was contemplating going home and grovelling for forgiveness to my family.
No point in going home, Chief, you are much better off without them Anyway you got me.
I scoffed loudly and put the pillow over my face.