Chapter 2

Chapter 2


"That was the beginning of the rest of my life father. I went in to so much detail so you could understand better how I began. I do not believe I was born evil. But I believe I was forced in to being that way." Caleb was silent for a moment so the priest began.
"Did you ever think of getting help, psychological help?" The priest asked solemnly.
"Help? My body and mind were taken over and you are asking me if I thought to go to a psychologist. HAHAHAHA," Caleb laughed. "Father I am not crazy, actually I may be saner then most for I know the truth. I could not help what happened to me anymore than an ant can save his ant hill from being stepped on. I will show you truths father, I will not leave you to blind faith, as now I wish I could be so ignorant, no I will prove my life to you in due time. But for now I ask for you to listen, and at the end of my story give me the advice I seek."
"Continue.” And the priest adjusted himself to a more comfortable posture and resumed listening.
'The sun was still visible across the sky, but I noticed it was quickly fleeing the ensuing night. I kept walking through the tall grass, barely a tree in sight, when a red truck came in to view through the distance. My first instinct was to stop this truck and that's just what I did. As the truck drove slowly down the dirt rode to my left, I began to race to catch it before it drove by. I made it to the dirt road before he could pass and I began to cry. Crying never worked with my parents, but I assumed I'd try again. To this day I do not know if the thoughts were mine or not. The red Ford truck stopped at the sight of a little boy crying on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, just as I suspected it would. I looked up trying to catch a glimpse of who was driving. It was then up close that I saw that he may have been the oldest man I had ever seen. Sparse white hair littered the back of his head; he had no teeth and wrinkles that almost closed his eyes. Thick bushy white eyebrows sat drooping over an almost indecipherable face, and his jowls drooped down to his chest. My tears dried up immediately as I looked at withering old man whose skin seemed to be sagging off.
"What are you doing out here youngin'?" He muttered. It was barely audible as I was sure his throat had to be nearly faded away. Still I said nothing, and just stood there and stared at this old man who time was literally melting.
"Well I saw you running for my truck," the old man winked. “I may be old as dust, but these eyes could still battle a hawk’s. What's your name?" Still I said nothing and just stared. "Don’t talk much huh, fair enough; I prolly talk enough for the both of us anyway. Well my names Johnny, and it would be a sin to let you walk down this road all by yourself with night coming down on us. Why don't you hop on in to my truck and I'll take ya where ya need to go, if you ever talk to me that is." This time I still said nothing yet forced a weak smile in his direction. I dropped my eyes back to the ground and I realized I was sad over the loss of my parents. My thoughts began taking me to a deeper darker place. As soon as my feelings started to root in to my heart, my body began to spasm and they were gone. My mind grew sharper and I lifted my head to meet the old man’s beady eyes.
"I'm not sure where exactly I am going mister, but it'd be mighty kind of ya to give me a ride until I could figure it out. I haven't ridden in a truck before."
"There we go little guy!" The old man hollered and slapped his leg. "Now hop up in here and let's get on the road before the night comes to chill our bones."
I climbed up in to the passenger seat of Johnny's red truck and looked at my surroundings. A faint smell of urine hung in the air, and I saw old ripped up newspapers underneath my feet, which couldn't reach the ground. I looked over at the old man who I saw was staring at me with a silly grin on his face. He winked at me one more time and turned towards the road and began driving. He started telling me stories, mostly of the war, and different battles he had been in. I wasn't paying him any attention, and strangely enough I wasn't worried about where I was going. I had no idea where I was headed but I had an eerie tranquility settle over me as if my knowing wasn't important. Then the man said something that snapped my head up.
"...and that's when the devil came up to me. It was him sure as the horns on a goats head. He said he heard me playing my fiddle, and he bet me that he could play better than me. He told me who he was and I was skeptical until I saw fire shoot from his fingertips and I nearly soiled myself. Nearly though boy, I kept my composure, and told him that I'd take his bet and he was gonna regret it, 'cuz I was the best there had ever been. I played this little tune called "Fire on the Mountain" I had made up and after words, ooooooweeeeee was he mad, I'll tell ya what. He had there a golden fiddle he laid at my feet, and it's been my prize possession ever since. Hahaha," the old man chuckled. "He sure was pissed that this ugly guy you see before you bested that there good looking fellow. Wore all white, he did. Damn clothes almost faded in with his skin. The devil doesn't have horns and a tale boy; don't let those stories fool ya. He looks a man just as you or I do, although he looks more of a man, more perfect I would reckon. Not as evil as I would have thought though, took his defeat pretty bad, but he paid up in the end."
I sat staring at this decrepit old man in wonder as he had just described the same man who had visited me the night before. I let my thoughts take me there until I realized the old man had pulled over.
"Well that's the town up ahead," he nodded in the direction. With a toothless grin he leaned towards me. I could smell his hot breath on my face, and it reeked of dog feces. "Now I'm a fair man, but I do reckon you owe me a little favor for this here ride." He winked at me and his hand fell on my knee. I looked back up in to his face not understanding what he was doing as I saw him pulling the zipper of his wrinkled gray pants down. He started pulling on my legs. "What say you come over here boy and get on grandpa's lap?" With the hand on my left knee and his other hand now on my right shoulder he was pulling me in to some weird hug. He pulled me on to his lap and he was fumbling around in his pants. A thunder clap boomed in my skull as the man’s hand slid up my leg, and I quickly pulled the blade out from under my shirt and stabbed it up under the old man's floppy jaw. His body shook for a moment and then he was still.
"Good," bounced in side my skull and the voice was gone. Blood trickled from the man’s nose staining his white beard and from his ears as well. I traced my finger along the trail of red oozing from his left ear and brought the bloody finger to my lips. I tasted life force for the first time that night. The metallic tang sent shivers down my spine as I realized how much I enjoyed the taste. I pulled my knife out of the man’s head, and it came out with ease like a knife through butter. I licked the blood off the knife, like a child with an egg beater after his mom just made brownies. I slid off the man's lap on to his passenger seat, and opened the door. I stepped down on to the dirt road and checked out my surroundings. The moon was bright in the night sky and made things a little easier to see. Up ahead about a mile were lights from the town the old man had told me about, so I figured I would head towards there. I had been there once with my father not to long ago and he had bought me a lollipop. Sucking on the lollipop reminded me of licking the red desert off of the knife. I didn't know it was wrong at the time. I just knew like candy, I wanted more. I tucked my knife back in to my pants and under my shirt and began down the road towards the lights.'
"You see father I don't even think Lucifer likes pedophiles," Caleb said in a lightly joking manner.
"No, I can imagine there are not many people that do,” the priest closed his eyes in disgust at the fellow priest of the catholic faith that had been accused of child molestation over the years. "I can imagine there is not many at all, please continue my child."
Caleb leaned forward and smiled. "You seem interested now father. Is my life more entertaining now? Are you starting to believe?"
"You are in a house of God my son; the lord will tell me what is true and what is not. As for your tale keeping me amused, I will not lie I am very interested in your life story, you seem like a deeply troubled man. Please continue." Caleb nodded his head, sat back and went on with his life story.
'The trip to the town was actually a trip down memory lane. I began thinking about my childhood. I was seven years old and thinking about my past. The "maturity" that had been thrust upon me at such early age, had me feeling a lot older than I was. I still was not even aware that I had taken three lives. Or more, I wasn't aware of what I did when I took three lives. I didn't see anything wrong in it. I missed my parents though, and a huge part of me wanted to go home. My body became wracked with pain at the thought, and I fell to the ground. My face was pressed against the dirt, as I believe I was screaming. It felt as if a thousand hot needles were piercing my insides. The tears flowing out of me were turning the dirt under my face in to mud and it began to smear on my chin. The feeling of being stabbed wouldn't leave me, and once again I felt as if I were going to die. My mind was a blank as there was nothing I could do but writhe in agony on the dirt road. My stomach got hit with the full force of the needles and I curled my body up in to a ball, stabbing myself with the knife in my pants. The pain of the needles stopped, yet the blade wound in my thigh was aching and bleeding through my fabric. I lay in the dirt for a few moments more, feeling the coolness of the mud on my cheek. My tears had turned dirt in to mud. I adjusted the knife in my pants and slowly stood up. I unzipped and unbuttoned my denim pants and slid them to the ground gently placing the blade on top of my pants in between my feet. My eyes widened when I saw what the knife had done.
"Freedom," the word again echoed in my skull as I grabbed the sides of my head. At the time I hardly knew what the word meant, I just knew I had done something bad. My hands fell from the sides of my head and I looked down again to see the deep gash in my thigh. The blood flowed down my leg in to my jeans crumpled at my ankles, but the pain wasn't there. I scooped some of the blood in to my hands and drank it relishing the taste. I smiled in delight as I did it once more. I closed my eyes savoring the flavor, although it didn't taste as good as the old man’s, it was still delightful. Blood must be like fine wine, better with age. I grabbed my knife and pulled my pants back up, sticking the blade where it now was accustomed to being. I zipped up and buttoned my pants and tested my leg by taking a step. It was fine, I believe now the gash was just more for appearance. My whole left leg was covered in blood and I reached up to feel the mud caked on my face. I was disgusted at how many tears had come out of me and I vowed then never to cry for my self again. I looked up towards the town lights, a little closer and brighter now and started towards them one more time.
The walk to town was a slow one. The cut in my leg should have hurt, should have been the reason for my slow progress, but it wasn't even a minor irritation. I thought about my family and how I missed them. My moms disapproving looks though then saddened me seemed to me now almost unbearable to be without. Again, with the thought came the piercing pain, this time in my leg. The feeling of being stabbed with fire followed the blood all over me and I dropped to my knees. My penance. My parents left my mind at that moment and were replaced by a dull sense of hatred. I pushed my self back up to my feet as the pain subsided, and hardened my eyes. The town was close, and I focused my young mind on just walking towards the lights. It would be better there; my thoughts and memories wouldn't hurt me there.
I reached the town with the moon still battling the darkness. The lights were on the moons side this night as I made my way down the black pavement towards the buildings that loomed above. The town was seemingly empty, as I reached the white surface of the sidewalk. I walked passed a building that had 'ANDY'S CANDY'S' painted in red on the window. I kept walking until I saw a sign that read Jacob's Diner, and I went up to the window. I realized then how starved I was, as well as how thirsty I was. I looked around the empty street but there was nothing to be done that night. I could see that day light wasn't to far away, and a stairwell was just to my left. I climbed down the stairs to a little area that was a walk way to a door. There was news paper thrown all over the cement so I cushioned the ground with some, fashioned myself a pillow with some more, and made sure I kept enough to wrap around my body as a blanket. I lay down on my makeshift bed closed my eyes and soared to another world.
I was woken up with the end of a cane to my ribs, then another poke to my gut, and then yet another poke back to my ribs. With half open eyes I batted the cane away, when I heard them.
"My God Jacob, he's got old blood all over him, but he's alive." It was a woman's voice I first heard.
"That he is Margaret, that he is," a man's voice finished with a whistle.
"You ok boy?" The old man asked? "How'd ya end up down here? Can we get ya anything? Do ya need some help?" I just lay there covered by my newspaper blanket staring at the old man and old woman who were seemingly worried about me. They stared back at me for what seemed like hours but must have been only a few moments. The Woman turned to the old man.
"Can he talk?"
"I don't know, doesn’t seem to be able to, or maybe he just doesn't understand. Let me try something."
The old man poked his chest with his finger, then pointed to his mouth which was curved up in a smile all while saying "I'm a friend; I want to help make sure you are ok."
He poked his finger on the old woman's chest and she slapped his hand away. They must have noticed my head cocking slightly to the side when this happened because they both smiled. The old man leaned down and reached for me. He must have noticed something in my wide eyed reaction because he backed off.
"Oh Jacob, he's scared, the poor young thing. What can we do for him?"
"Well I'm almost plum out of ideas. I guess we could try..." The old man's voice trailed off as another voice, a voice I had come to know all to well, whispered in my head.
"Let them help you Caleb. They will take care of you until you are ready to be out on your own, and truly free. They will help see the end of my part of the bargain. They are," he slightly paused "different than us. I have seen in to their filthy hearts and know this to be true, yet they will give you what you need to survive and for now that is what matters. I will come to you again soon." With that last word the voice was gone. My focus came back to the old couple in front of me and they were just quietly staring at me again, a confused, piteous look on both of their faces.
"I'm going to reach for you now, and pick you up little one," the old man said. "Is this ok? If you can't talk for some reason just nod your head. God I hope you can understand." The last part was said more to himself, but with the mention of God my brain shuttered. The convulsions in my head must have shown in my face, because the old man began to pull back from reaching for me. I thought about the voice in my head then reached my arms out to him.
"My name is Caleb," I said.
"Well hello there Caleb," the old woman said. "You can talk after all," she smiled and caressed my cheek as I was in the old man's fragile stick-like arms.
"My name is Jacob, and this here is my, er, my friend Margaret," he looked at the old but handsome woman and smiled. A glint of love in his eye. It reminded me of the way my mother and father looked at each other the other night. The night I.... Again my brain was wracked with pain. I was beginning to understand that any thoughts about my parents were not to be tolerated so I shut them out for good.
They took me inside the door that had been next to my makeshift bed and they walked me in to a small kitchen. It had a big black wood burning oven that smelled of fresh bread and bacon. They sat me down on a clean metal counter, my legs dangled over the sides.
"I'll get you a wash cloth to clean you up some deary," the old woman said kindly. "After that we'll look in to getting you some new clothes." She gave me a wink and walked over to a sink across from the oven.
"Well my boy, now that we know you can talk, just how in blazes did you end up outside of my kitchen door?" The old man asked.
I thought about this for a moment, and sadness welled up inside me but I pushed it back. I figured I just be as honest as I could be.
"A fire burned down my house, so I ran away. I didn't know where to go, but I ended up here. I'm sorry," I added quickly still not quite sure if they were upset or not.
"Oh phish posh sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for lad," the old man said softly, almost as if he actually cared. "I hate to ask this my boy, I really do, but your parents," he paused. "Where are your parents?" I just looked up at him. I could feel him peering in to my big dark eyes, soaking up the knowledge as if he'd figure out my horrid secret.
"Not even a tear huh boy? It was that bad? I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. We'll alert the authorities for you and you are more than welcome to stay here and eat boy until we can figure out what to do with you. Life never comes at us in the way we planned, we just make the best with what we've got and we go on living until the good lord calls us home."
The old woman returned with a wet wash rag and stood in front of me with tears glistening in her eyes. She had heard everything; the kitchen was after all very small.
"I'm so sorry," she muttered as she threw her arms around me sobbing. I could feel her tears soaking through the grim of my shirt.
"Now, now Margaret, you wanted to clean the boy, your tears aren't gonna suffice. Let's get him cleaned, clothed and a good meal in his belly he can tell us more than. While she washes you up, I'ma go see if I can't find you some clothes to wear in replace of those..." Again he paused looking me over from my matted dark hair, to my filthy, blood covered clothes. "Ones that you’re wearing," he finished. He walked back out of the door we had come in from as the woman took the warm, wetted rag to my face. It had started in a pale yellow, but after one stroke of the warm rag down my face and neck, part of it shown a light brown.
"You are just filthy Caleb," she said sniffling as she forced a smile. It was the first time she had said my name. She continued washing and wiping my face off. Than once she was finished she put the rag down. It had become completely brown.
"There ya go, that is the best I can do with out a bath. Once the old man comes back with some clothes for ya, we'll see to it that you get one of those and a hot meal afterwards. Does that sound ok with you?" I shook my head yes.
The old man came back with a white t-shirt that seemed to fit perfectly, and some black denim pants that were a little too tight. The old woman drew me a bath. She had told me the bath water was hot and to wait, but I just jumped right in never feeling the heat. She just took it as me being too eager to get cleaned; she smiled and gave me my privacy. I had tucked the dagger inside the black jeans while she was turned around so she wouldn’t see it. I don’t know why I didn’t want her to see it, I just knew she couldn’t. After my bath, and after I had put my clothes on I tucked the dagger back in my waistband. I had walked out of their washroom and down a hall and then up some stairs to find myself in the doorway to Jacob's Diner. The old man spotted me. "Well come here my boy and let me see how those clothes fit." I walked over to him and as he made a twirling gesture with his hand, I turned around. He whistled," oooooweeeeee if you don't look like a little James Dean, don't he Margaret?"
"Why yes he does," she replied smiling. "Let's get you something to eat Caleb."
My food was eventually brought out to me as I sat at the bar of the diner. The old woman, or Margaret, brought me a strawberry milk shake along with the meal. It had been my first one ever; it was the greatest thing I had ever tasted. It was almost too cold for me to bear though. There had only been one other person in the diner eating when I had first walked through the door, after my meal the place was filled with customers. The old man and woman were busy, but seeing as how the diner had so much business I saw the help they could afford. A giant of a man, almost as fat as he was tall was working the grill, a black teenager was cleaning the tables in the diner as a beautiful young woman was taking people's orders. The old woman checked on me frequently as did the old man. They had introduced me earlier to their staff, and now I sat sipping on my second milkshake, staring at all the different faces seated in the diner. I had been looking through the glass door when all of a sudden it opened. A man in a pale brown uniform walked in with a bright shiny gold star pinned to his shirt. He had a gun on his hip and I knew him to be the law. My dad had told me stories of Wyatt Earp and the like.
The law stood in the doorway looking around the diner when he spotted me. He had a blank expression on his face as he strode over to me. Before he could get me alone Margaret and Jacob came up behind me.
"Well how do ya do today sheriff?" Jacob asked.
"Quite fine Jacob, business going well as usual I take it?" The sheriff said with another look around the diner.
"It's the love we put in this place that keeps the folks coming back," Margaret answered.
"So it is. So it is," the sheriff replied. "Well I take it this is the boy you called about? You musta cleaned him up quite nice after the description you gave over the phone."
"We gave him a bath and some hot food as any God fearing people would have. Any idea wear his parents are, or why he was so bloody?"
"Well that's the thing there Jacob, along with this boys appearance, we have that strange old man Johnny who showed up here not too long ago, dead in his truck on route three. And ole' Hodges called my office today telling me that the Fletcher place had burned to the ground. This was after I talked to you Jacob. The Fletchers had a boy about the age of this one here." The sheriff turned his attention to me. "Your name is Caleb right boy?" I nodded my head yes. My face had gone dead and I knew I showed no emotion. The sheriff let out a sigh of pity, "well Caleb, I am sorrier than you could know," the old woman was in tears as Jacob's head was bowed. "We are gonna make sure you are ok and set up real nice like. Is there anything you can tell me about an old man in a red truck son?" The sheriff asked in an un-accusatory way.
I thought about the question and how I would answer, and then for the first time the sheriff heard me speak. "He picked me up on the dirt road by around my way. He gave me a ride until I could see the lights of this town. I jumped out of his dirty ole' truck when he started pulling me close to him. I was scared so I just ran." I put my eyes to the floor after those last words and waited in silence, feigning sadness.
The sheriff whistled and replied, “Well I'll be, I knew there was something off about that Johnny fella, I would like to say he got what he deserved, but with the burning down of your house, I'm sorry to say boy, it looks like we have some strange occurrences on our hands. I'm sorry about your folks; they were good hard working people. I'm gonna go do my job now and try to figure out all this mess. Jacob, Margaret, I'll be in contact with ya about the boy here, I'll get a hold of some people that will know what to do, in the mean time if you could just look after him..."
The sheriff didn't even get to finish the rest of his sentence before the old woman interrupted. "He'll be ok with us sheriff you just worry about catching that devil you have on the loose. You can worry about the boy after that. For now we have food, shelter, and a bed for this boy and he will be right by us." Jacob put his arm around Margaret's shoulders, confirming that fact.
"I knew that he would be Margaret," the sheriff said. "Take care son, if there is anything you need just gimme a shout, they know my number," he pointed at Jacob and Margaret. "I'll be seeing you soon, and you can trust we'll catch whoever did that to your mama's and daddy's house. I promise it," and with that he turned around and walked out of the diner.
No sooner had the sheriff left than the diner door opened and again he appeared.
"Something the matter sheriff?" The beautiful waitress asked as he walked through the door.
"Never you mind Tiffany, get me a cup a coffee to go though if you don’t mind."
"No problem sugar," the waitress replied.
The sheriff walked back over to me and the old couple, but his eyes were focused on me.
"I'm sorry to bother you again so soon son, I know you are grieving but I couldn't help but remember that I forgot to ask how you got so bloody as Margaret had told me you were."
Instantly as if I had been lying of years I replied "While I was running form the old man I tripped and fell down and a rock cut my leg." Although I had made the promise to myself that I would not cry again, I put my eyes once again to the ground and forced out some tears. The sheriff took notice and being a softy that was all it took.
"Well you done worked him up and made the poor boy upset sheriff, I hope you're happy," Margaret scolded. Just then Tiffany came back with his coffee.
Here ya go sheriff, have a good day," she said with a smile as she walked off. The sheriff stared after her for a moment as she walked away. His eyes were taking in the way her white daisy imprinted dress stretched across her backside as she walked. Jacob cleared his throat.
"Well, um, yea ok, I'm sorry son I had to ask, police work and all. Good day again Jacob, Margaret," he peered down at me as I met his stare. A slight squint hit his eyes as he said, "I'll be seeing you too boy, take care for now I'll be in contact soon." With that the sheriff was finally gone.
Margaret put both of her hands on my cheeks wiping my tears, as Jacob took his arm from around Margaret's shoulders and put his hands on mine.
"I think it's time for that bath Caleb," Margaret said, and I agreed.