Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 4
The one-room apartment was a mess. Food on dirty dishes in the sink, papers everywhere on the table, clothes hung in the refrigerator.
“Why?” He bawled. “Why did you come here? You devil, you! Why? Why?” He beat his fists on the floor.
“Shut up!” I kicked him in the legs. He cried harder. “I said shut up! You want somebody to call the cops? They come in here and see smack residue everywhere—”
“What do you want?” His voice was muffled from his face hidden in his arms.
“I want you to read something written in an ancient language. You do this for me, I’ll give you the smack in my coat pocket.”
Fred leaped to his feet like a spry young man. Fred was sixty-one, short bald, and bespectacled. No one would mistake him for an athlete. At that moment, he looked like a Triathlon winner.
“Where is it? This document?” He said quickly, wiping spittle with a handkerchief from his pocket. I showed him my forearm.
He looked at me, stunned. “What have you done to yourself, my boy?”
“I didn’t do this to myself, Fred.” I went into what happened. Strangely, Fred was a believer in all things occult.
He examined my arm. Tracing the letters and symbols burned into my pink flesh. He wrote them down, looked in a couple of books. It took two hours, but old Fred cracked it. He was shaking his head, laughing to himself.
“Spill it, you old geezer, tell me the joke, already!” I croaked, blew smoke in his face.
“Please, Peter,” He coughed, fanned the smoke from his face. “This language, you say came from a Demon?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, more or less.”
“It’s comprised of several languages. Latin, the main one. German, Spanish. Gaelic. And, I believe,” He looked at what he had written on a cardboard box. “A derivative of Nilo-Saharan — African.”
“Tell me what the fuckin’ thing means, okay.” I had to be rough or he wouldn’t deliver the goods.
“It says: Mother of my child—shall have protection in this lifetime and beyond. And then it’s signed by a name that is unpronounceable in any Earthly language.”
I shook my head, Shrugged. I gave the baggie to Fred. He greedily took it, turned his back on me, and headed for the bedroom. I scampered quickly out the door and down the street before the old fool figured it out I had conned him.
I got as far as Twenty-Second Street when a cop car pulled up beside me. “Hopps wants you down at the St. Barris Church. Get in, Chambers.”
I didn’t argue. I couldn’t wait to see what Hopps had found out.
All CHapters from Hellspeak
- Chapter 1: Dead End Friends pt 1
- Chapter 1: Dead End Friends pt 2+3
- Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 1
- Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 2
- Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 3
- Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 4
- Chapter 2: The Messenger pt 5
- Chapter 3: The Haunted Shotgun pts 1-3
- Chapter 3: The Haunted Shotgun pts 4-6
- Chapter 4: Hellspeak pt 1
- Chapter 4: Hellspeak pt 2
- Chapter 4: Hellspeak pt 3+4
- Chapter 4: Hellspeak pt 5
- Chapter 4: Hellspeak pt 6+7
- Chapter 5: Deguello pt 1
- Chapter 5: Deguello pt 2
- Chapter 5: Deguello pt 3
Next Tuesday: Part 5 of The Messenger
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