The Beast of 1977 (Book 1)

Chapter 29

THE CYPRESS GUARDIAN

Wednesday, February 23rd 1977

In what resembled a grisly scene from the latest horror flick, the owner of Larry's Garage & Auto Parts, twenty year old Larry Tate, and his twenty-six year old cousin, Marvell Tate, were found bludgeoned to death inside their place of business last night.As of now, police do not have a suspect, but nearly seven thousand dollars' worth of cocaine was discovered within the establishment, which leads authorities to believe that perhaps a drug deal had possibly gone awry.The manager of the Tri-State Savings & Loan Bank, located right next door to the garage, told police that the garage was rarely ever open, and an assortment of "shady" characters would be seen coming in and out of the business on a daily basis. The murder weapon, which was found lying next to the owner, was a blood soaked Phillips head wrench. Both victims were repeatedly beaten over the head with the tool. Forensics officers are speculating that the victims had been dead for at least over a week, judging by their extreme decomposition. Tri-State bank manager, David Khan, noticed something was wrong when he heard the owner's Doberman pincher barking non-stop over the past few days. That was when he decided to call police. Larry Tate leaves behind four toddler boys. Marvell Tate was the father of two young daughters.

With his issue of the Cypress Guardian in hand, Mr. Mercer sat in his pew and tried to regain his fleeting breath while pondering on the dreadful news he had just read. He gripped the paper in his hand as tight as he could as he kept his dreary eyes locked on the crucifix down behind the pulpit ahead of him.

As vexed as he was at the headline, Mr. Mercer was more strained on how he was going to break the news to a son that was barely hanging on to life as it was. The man stretched his arms forward until they rested on the back of the pew in front of him. There was a distressed manifestation lying heavy on his face. Every so often flashes of his late wife would appear before his eyes. Mr. Mercer required her patient, maternal wisdom when it came to such situations. For the very first time in years, the man tried

and tried to communicate with God, but no matter how hard he wanted to shut his eyes, he just couldn't seem to bring himself to do so.

He wanted to see Isaac, but not in the scathing condition he could be in when he spoke with him over the phone in the morning.

Right before Mercer could even take another gulp, desperate knocks at the front door interrupted the quiet that he was lurking in. Immediately, Mr. Mercer dropped the newspaper onto the pew before getting up and racing towards the door. He flung open the door to find Isaac shivering and wild-eyed.

"Isaac, come on in, son." Right away, he pulled his boy into his arms and squeezed tight. The moment he released him, he looked into his son's eyes and asked, "Son...did you know that Larry and Marvell were murdered a few days ago?"

Completely sidestepping his father's harrowing news, Isaac barged his way into the church and gawked around the dimmed sanctuary as though he had never set foot in the place before in his life.

"Dad, I gotta talk to you." Isaac huffed and puffed.

"C'mon, we'll go in the back." Mr. Mercer shook his head before leading Isaac towards the rear of the church and to his office.

As Mr. Mercer walked on, he suddenly realized that he was void another presence beside him. The man stopped and turned to see Isaac standing and staring at the cross behind the pulpit as if the symbol had possessed him to the point of absolute, solid shock.

"Isaac...c'mon, son," he said, holding out his right hand.

Instantly, Isaac snapped back and resumed his trek behind his father until they both made it to the study.

"Go on and have a seat." Mr. Mercer said before leaning against the wall with his burly arms folded against his brown jacket.

Isaac sat himself down on the stool beside his father's desk while his hands remained securely tucked inside his coat pockets.

Mr. Mercer stared strangely upon his son's facial features before worriedly questioning, "Son, what did that man do to you?"

Isaac looked up at his father with an odd contort on his face and replied, "Dad, this isn't about that man. I got problems."

"Is it that bad, son? Did you go to the hospital?"

"No hospital can help me." Isaac depressingly stuttered as if he were still freezing cold. "I need you, dad."

"I'm right here, boy." Mr. Mercer reached out with his right arm. "Just tell me what you need and I'll see to it that you get it."

Isaac's head twisted and turned from one corner of the tiny office to the other before he looked down at the floor and said in a muffled tone, "It...it happened again the other night."

"What happened again?" Mr. Mercer held his breath.

"The same thing that happened back in November," Isaac bashfully looked up.

Mr. Mercer, completely spent, rolled his eyes and sighed, "Isaac, I thought this was something serious."

"It is serious, dad!"

"We've been over this once before." Mr. Mercer began to pace the floor. "I don't know what happened to you the other night, but whatever you think happened, didn't. Look at you, you look like death itself. When was the last time you slept?"

"Dad, you weren't there!" Isaac desperately said.

"And since we're on the subject, just what were you doing all the way up in Cuyahoga Falls to begin with? I thought you were going to look for work back on Monday." Mr. Mercer adamantly remarked.

"I did look for work, and after I got done with that...I went to go see someone."

Mr. Mercer stopped pacing and squared his eyes down at Isaac in an accusatory fashion before asking, "Who was this someone, son?"

"It was this woman— Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

Mr. Mercer once again rolled his eyes in agony. "A woman," he questioned. "Boy, what woman do you know in Cuyahoga Falls?"

"Dad, she knows what I am! She knows how to cure me!" Isaac frantically answered.

"Damn!" Mr. Mercer indignantly growled while storming out of the office and back out into the sanctuary with his son close in on his heels.

"Dad, you don't understand!" Isaac breathlessly urged, chasing after his father. "Me and Lynn was having problems, and...I'm not trying to make excuses, but, it just happened!"

Mr. Mercer stopped walking right in the middle of the floor and asked, "What, just happened? Is that who you went to see in Cuyahoga, this woman? You went to go see some woman, and then you're ass goes and gets kidnapped? It's by the grace and mercy of God that you got away from that man!"

Tears began to drip from Isaac's eyes as he wailed out loud, "I didn't mean it! We had sex! Next thing I know, I wake up with these eyes! I started having blackouts! And then...then that thing on Thanksgiving! Dad, she was lonely! She needed someone to talk to!"

"Then you should have told her to go and buy a damn dog!" Mr. Mercer roared at the top of his lungs while flailing his arms in the air. "It's not your job to keep company with another woman! You keep your own woman company!"

Isaac dropped to his knees and wept incessantly into the carpet. All Mr. Mercer could do was stand above his son and shake with fury.

"Nigga, you could lose your family! What were you thinking? This is your life we're talking about here!"

"I didn't mean to do it!" Isaac screamed to the ceiling above.

"I know exactly what's wrong with you!" Mr. Mercer continued to yell while making his way over to his son and yanking him up from off the floor by the hood of his coat. "You've done gone and caught some nasty disease from this gal! That's what's got you acting like a heathen!"

Mr. Mercer couldn't seem to stop his rampage. He shook Isaac nearly out of his own jacket while pointing his finger directly into his face.

"I can't imagine what's wrong with you young people today! You all get out there and fool around with any and every one that you see! And when something like this happens, you come crying to your parents for help! Well, I know exactly how to help you! C'mon, you and me are going down to the free clinic before it closes so we can get you checked out!"

"I ain't got no disease!" Isaac shot back, snatching himself away from his father's powerful hold. "I need you to take this thing outta me! I need you to do one of those exorcise things for me! Do me like they

did that white girl in the movie! The power of Christ compels you!"

Isaac insanely spat as he ran over to the half full baptismal font next to the pulpit and scooped out a few ounces of water into his hands.

"C'mon, dad...the power of Christ compels you! Say it! The power of Christ compels you!"

Mr. Mercer stood and watched in utter astonishment and woe as his one and only child recklessly splashed water into his own face. Right there, his heart shattered into pieces. He no longer recognized his own son.

"You're a pastor!" Isaac furiously hollered, racing over and grabbing his father by the hand. "Do the exorcism thing on me! I need it! Do you need the crucifix up there?"

With painful tears in his eyes, Mr. Mercer held out his quivering hands and said, "Son...it hurts my soul to see you this way. Proverbs 27: 8 says that As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place."

"I don't wanna hear all that bible shit! If God really did love me then he'd help me!"

"You have to allow him to help you!"

"Dog denmad em," (God damned me) Isaac slurred in a coarse tone. "Dog eta hem," (God hate me)

Out of gut fear, Mr. Mercer stumbled backwards into one of the pews. He watched with stunned eyes as Isaac began to draw closer to him.

"Oh, God, son," the man choked, clutching his chest.

"I'm so fuckin' afraid. I didn't mean to do any of it." The young man continued to cry. "Tell mama I'm sorry. Tell her that I won't do it again, daddy!"

Mr. Mercer held his breath while glancing past Isaac and down towards the pulpit, hoping that God would come down and settle the situation first hand.

"She told me to stay away from people." Isaac began to froth from the mouth. "I gotta go, dad. I gotta go away."

Isaac said as he started to storm past his father on his way out the front door, only to have the man grab a hold of him.

For the large Mr. Mercer, it was akin to wrestling a man of equal or greater size. Never before had it been such a task to try and overpower his son as it was at that moment. But somehow, Isaac managed to outmaneuver his father to where he was able to slip out of his grip and race straight for the door.

Mr. Mercer watched the opened door sway back and forth for only a few seconds before running back to the janitor's closet. Inside the closet were two brooms, a vacuum, a red bucket, a mop and a black telephone. He snatched up the phone and feverishly dialed Lynnette's house.

The line was busy.