The Familiar(Will Neill) The Familiar

Part One
‘’The bizarre demise of Ray Barnes’’

My father, George, sold real estate all across South Carolina for most of his adult life. The only time he didn’t move any property according to my Mother was during the recession of 2008. However throughout that particular decline and not being a man just to sit around waiting on things to happen he went and found himself a job with the postal service. So Monday through Friday’s for eighteen months he delivered letters and small parcels before catching up with his own business ‘Penrose Real Estate’ at the weekends. Daddy was mostly the front man, the talker if you will, and that’s what he sure liked to do. If a particular subject he was interested in came up in a conversation you could bet your last dollar he would go on for hours about it. He was forever boasting he could probably sell sand to the Arabs. Or ice to the Inuit’s. So he was happy leaving the financial side to Mother, I think it was his dry Southern wit and smooth Irish charm which probably won her over when they first met. Although she likes to say she only went out with him because he pestered her so much while they were both at college.
Whatever the truth was he must have grown on her because on April 1st it was their twenty fifth wedding anniversary. Coinciding with my end of spring term from Clemson Uni to celebrate the occasion Mother had clandestinely organized a small get-together for family and friends at their favorite restaurant, La belle Italia to mark the event. A very popular eatery in Pendleton about forty minutes drive from our house. I was to meet them there around 7.30pm. Since April fools day fell on a Saturday I knew traffic would probably be light on highway 76 coming from my campus apartment. Therefore I took it rather than the country back roads I normally used to travel to Pendleton. Confident it would get me there in good time. This was to be my fourth and final year at Clemson. My intention after graduating was to study for my bar degree and become a lawyer, sadly though I think Daddy wanted me to carry on in the family business, I believe the thought of seeing a real estate sign with ‘Penrose and Son’ on it really appealed to him. But I had no interest in selling homes for a living, not after watching how hard he worked as I was growing up.
Other than speaking to my parents on the phone every now and then I hadn’t seen them since the Christmas holidays. So I was looking forward to our evening. Although at one point on the Wednesday I got a call from Mother who was considering maybe calling it off on account she was concerned maybe daddy might not be up to it. Feeling a little anxious I asked her why?

‘Well you know how your Father is Jamie’ she said ‘always so up beat and full of energy it can be hard for me to keep up sometimes but just lately he’s been lethargic, telling me he feels tired and not himself’
I quietly reassured her he’d probably just picked up a bug, or a cold was working on him and I bet by Saturday he’d be his old self, finishing off by asking she should ring me if he got worse.
‘I’m such a worrier’ she said and agreed it was perhaps nothing. When I didn’t hear from her again I guessed everything was ok.

My only commitments on the Thursday and Friday was to finish editing two articles submitted to the Tiger, the oldest student run newspaper in S.C. Founded in 1907 it publishes local and University related news . I had fallen into the job as assistant editor only because I’d written a piece in my freshman year about a murder case which occurred at the time, one which pricked my interest. It centered around the killings of two women who’s bodies where dumped in a South Carolina wood. Both had been shot.
18 year old Dana Woods and June Guerry 22 where found in Francis Marion National Park not far from their burned out car several days after they went missing, Caleb Brad Matlock and Arthur Ray Chavis two cousins who were both known to the girls had been arrested and charged with their killings. As I said my ambition is to become a lawyer, hopefully a prosecution attorney which appealed to me-I liked the thought of banging up the bad guys. In 2012 when I wrote the piece after following it on the news and interviewing some of the police officers involved in the arrest I submitted my story to the paper. It so happens they thought it was good and ran it over the course of a week on a quarter page spread each day. It seemed to go down well with the students and teaching staff alike so when it finished Ray Barnes who was the chief editor back then suggested I follow it up. He more or less gave me carte blanche with the subject matter so over the rest of that semester I did a mixed bag of crime stories, local gossip and a few segments on South Carolina urban mythology. The latter of all three proving to be the most popular, so much so Ray suggested cutting the others to a monthly print and sticking with the ‘Folklore and conspiracy theorist shit’ as he preferred to call it on a weekly basis.
Rays choice of words could be cumbersome at times when it came to plain speaking; he always called a spade a spade and never suffered fools gladly. However some of the others who worked on the paper (mostly Phillip Rivers assistant editor then) disliked his unwieldy ways, but for me he was solid guy who got the job done even if it meant treading on toes or getting someone’s back up. Ray too suited his own vocal behavior, a bulky awkward man who liked to wear 70’s style flared jeans and hippy bedazzling peace T shirts. He sported his dirty fair hair long over his ears and his chin had a whisper of a goatee beard, all in all a much rounder version of ‘Shaggy’ from the ‘Scooby Doo’ kiddies cartoon series is the best way I could describe him.
So we continued on with the arrangement as I mentioned for about two years. Each week I would submit my stories for Ray’s approval (most of which got the OK) then they went to print. In between classes I’d do my research for the next release (thank god for Google) and then fine tune them for the readers. It was Ray’s idea one year in to expand the myth theme to cover the whole of the U.S.A and the world. He figured why confine our articles to home when there was a well of legends, mythology and folklore to cover, ‘’ an endless stream of human interest out there is waiting to be tapped’’ he once said as we sat discussing the paper’s future one spring morning over coffee. That summer was to be his last at Clemson and through his time there he had already secured a job as a reporter with the Greenville News, the third largest daily newspaper in SC and was due to start with them in the Autumn. Rivers would take his place after he left which we all knew would happen but surprisingly he offered me the assistant Ed’s position. I was dumbstruck at first, and I made it known there were better writers than me who should get it, but it was as I discovered a unanimous decision. So that’s how I ended up, and I would like to say there was a happy ending to all of it, but no. A week to the day after we goofed around that spring morning Ray didn’t show up for work, which was totally out of character for him because he lived and breathed the paper and never had a single day off sick in the whole time I was there.
About midday after calling his home and cell numerous times with no success Rivers took it upon himself to suggest he should go and make sure Ray was OK. I offered to ride shot gun but stressed, ‘’If he gets pissed because we’ve disturbed him while he’s only sleeping off a head cold then be it on you’’. (Ray could have a temper and did let it loose like an angry lion sometimes)
Rivers nodded ‘fine I’ll take the aggravation’ he said ‘now lets go’
We drove over to Ray’s apartment block in the noonday heat a stones throw from La belle Italia, parked up and took the elevator, which was much cooler thankfully than Rivers old 98VW. We rode it up three floors without talking; Rivers was dressed in a two piece blue suit and a white open neck shirt, looking more like a cop than a student. Where I had taken the more comfortable approach to the SC climate before leaving and threw on a pair of denim shorts and a white tee shirt. I bet he was sweating buckets under that jacket. ‘310’ I said as we stepped out into the high humidity of the walk way. ‘Last one at the end I think on this level’ we turned right.
‘This way’ I said pointing ahead and took the lead ticking down the numbers with my finger as we went along. ‘You’ve been here before?’ Rivers queried as we reached Rays door ‘Uh Uh!’ I replied ‘didn’t even have his address until I got it from the nice lady over at admin earlier’
Rivers looked at me with a hound dog expression when we reached 310. ‘What should we do?’ he asked.
‘I dunno’ I said shrugging my shoulders ‘bang on the door I suppose’
‘Before doing that maybe we should call him one last time’ Rivers offered ‘who knows, he may have woken up since we left the offices’
‘Oh, ok, sure’ I replied and watched as he punched Ray’s number into his own cell. It connected almost immediately and we both stood and listened to it ring.
‘He’s still not answering’ Rivers sighed and was about to speak again but I was already over at Rays door with my ear pressed against it. ‘Shssh! don’t you hear that? I said ‘I can make out Rays ringtone theme tune from the Mission Impossible films. He loves those movies and its coming from inside’

‘Maybe he’s just forgot to bring it with him or perhaps he was out with friends last night for a few beers and just didn’t come home’
‘Ray doesn’t have any friends and he doesn’t drink you know that Rivers, the paper is everything to him. No! Something’s not right and I’ve a bad feeling about this’
‘So what do we do?’
Without replying I put my elbow to the small pane of glass just above the lock and knocked it through into the hall where it broke into pieces. Then carefully manipulating my hand safely around some remaining small shards I reached in and turned the handle opening the door. The first thing I noticed when I stepped in was the putrid smell and the mass of black flies which were buzzing frantically around the apartment. ‘Jesus!’ Rivers croaked who was now right behind me put his mouth and nose into the crux of his arm. The heat was so stifling I too felt sick.
The small hallway which was no more than a couple of paces long seemed to lead only to another door which I could see was ajar about four or five inches. Beyond that I quickly figured must be the main apartment and what looked like the focal point of the flies and smell. ‘I’m sorry I can’t’ I heard Rivers say as I watched him back out ‘I can’t go any further’ I didn’t want too either but I felt compelled to go on, so I did, slowly edging forward, one foot in front of the other. I pushed the door open a little more with my finger. The room from what I could make out was dark and humid and all the drapes had been drawn across the windows.
‘Hey Ray…… you in there, are you OK?’ I asked in a low voice, trying not to breathe in through my nose because of the stench and hoping my eyes would quickly soon adjust. ‘It’s me Jamie Penrose; every one is worried because you didn’t answer your phone’

I fumbled for the light switch but it wouldn’t work, what I needed to do was get the drapes open then find the windows to let some air and daylight in. ‘Do you have any matches or a lighter?’ I shouted back to Rivers who was standing in the doorway silhouetted by the sun suddenly remembering he liked to smoke the odd cigarette. I couldn’t make out his face but I was sure he was screwing it up wondering what the hell I was talking about.
‘Just throw me the god damn matches’ I said ‘I can’t see a god damn thing in here’ a second later a box of lucky strikes landed at my feet.
I took one out and struck it, immediately lighting up the room in a warm white glow. The tiny flame made my shadow dance on the wall behind me but unfortunately was now attracting more of the flies. Slowly I inched forward swatting them away with my other hand. By now I could make out the TV on the wall and the couch. But the radiance of the fire was short lived and burned the tips of my finger and thumb before going out. I lit another, this time I could see a lot of papers scattered and strewn about the floor like someone had been frantically looking for something. Yet again the match went out.
This time I took out three and bunched them together hoping by lighting them simultaneously they would burn brighter and last longer giving me the extra time to get to the drapes. It worked, but as I took another few steps I began to be aware I was getting nearer to the epicenter of the foul smell and the focus of the flies. When I reached the end of the couch an image of horror flashed before my eyes just as the light of the matches went out. What I saw briefly was Ray lying on his back his arms splayed out with one of his feet resting on top of the other. His lower jaw was missing as if it had been ripped from his face. His eyes were wide in a perpetual stare of fear while bloated maggots where tumbling and writhing in the bloody space between his nose and neck. I opened my mouth to scream but couldn’t because my throat had instinctively closed over to try and prevent me from vomiting. ‘Call 911’ I eventually managed to call out to Rivers. Ten minutes later the place was covered with cops.

Even now one year on that vision of awfulness is still giving me nightmares.

In the weeks following Ray’s murder Rivers and I were interviewed by the police several times and because it was such a bizarre case also by the F.B.I. During one of my many meetings with lead detective Robert Stone of the Pendleton Police Dept, who I must add never, seemed to run out of new questions to ask, produced a series of photographs. Five in total of Rays right hand taken at different angles. He explained after they had cleaned the blood of it in the autopsy they’d found a name and some numbers written with a black ballpoint pen on the back of it. I was asked to confirm if it was his handwriting, which I did knowing he was a lefty. However as far as the name was concerned R.M Renfield I had no idea who that was. Regarding the numbers I had a fair idea what they meant.
I told Stone, who reminded me a bit like lieutenant Colombo, the TV sleuth. ‘’Ray liked to jot down the time using the twenty four hour clock, I said pointing at the image, ‘’two one zero zero, or 9pm, perhaps this was when he was meeting this R..M..Renfield ’’
My speculation made Stone raise an eyebrow and a notable look of embarrassment crept across his face probably because he was thinking why in the hell he hadn’t figured it out himself sooner. Quickly finishing off he told me if there were any more developments he’d be in touch. But like I said that was a year ago.

I got to the papers offices around 10.30am. Then, they where situated in the West wing of the University and took up space of one good sized classroom on the third level. As you enter there were four old clunky word processors on two long tables which could be used by any reporter. The Uni had promised we would be getting brand new Apple Macs in or around May to replace them, but we’d heard all that shit before. Budget cuts usually trumped new equipment when it came down to it, so we took their good intentions with a pinch of salt. A TV was usually on while we worked allowing us to keep up with world news which had its own metal stand. And on the walls there were a scattering of past iconic front pages encased in frames, each one a best seller. I normally sat nearest the windows which I felt helped me with my writers block when it came; watching the world go by from my high top vantage point always seemed to give me inspiration. Today was no different except I was alone.

My two articles due editing were both for the papers following weeks Urban Myth section and had added interest for me because they were first hand reports from members of the public. Over the past six months we had been taking a lot of calls from local people asking about what we thought about the existence of ‘Shadow Persons’. At first we considered them all hoaxes dismissing them as student pranks until we got a call from a highly respected business man. His name was Tyler Brannon and he owned and ran the largest meat processing plant in SC. ‘’ Buy Brannon for Bigger and Better Burgers’’ was his catch phrase. I didn’t take the call myself but he asked to speak to Rivers emphasizing he had to remain anonymous or he would hang up. As far as the story goes from what Rivers later told me….Brannon had been to a charity fund raising event in Pendleton a few weeks previous. He’d enjoyed a couple of drinks while he was there so around 1am feeling tired he called a taxi and headed home. He let himself in quietly knowing his wife and daughter where sleeping upstairs, the little one had been sick with the flu all day and his wife had stayed at home to look after her, missing out on the evening.
Rather than go up to bed pretty sure his daughter was probably sleeping with her mum he opted to crash out on the couch. There where other rooms he could have gone to in his sprawling estate he said but Lucy, his daughter was a light sleeper at the best of times. So no matter how hard he would try to be quiet he was certain she might hear him coming up the stairs. No, the couch would do just fine he thought so he poured himself a nightcap, sat down and slipped off his shoes before loosening his black bowtie. The fund raiser had been a resounding success, planned to support and aid the South Carolina Autism Society to whom which he had a close affinity because of his daughter Lucy. Diagnosed as being on the outer spectrum at four the organization had been a pillar of strength to them as she and they came to terms with it. Four years on with their help Lucy was doing well and had learned to understand her condition.
The tuxedo affair of the states who’s who had raised over two hundred thousand dollars in pledges, not bad he thought for an evenings work.
After taking the last mouthful of bourbon from his glass Tyler sat it down on the coffee table in front of him. He recounts he could feel his eyelids getting heavy as the warm liquor began to carry him into that mellow place between slumber and awake. He lowered his head back onto the couch and crossed his feet one over the other. In that moment he felt placid and content, satisfied he’d done his best. He was ready for sleep. ‘’A few moments went by’’ he told Rivers ‘’my feeling of serenity began to fade and was being replaced with uneasiness, I was sure someone was in the room watching me. Who’s there ? I asked. Letting my eyes slowly scan the space, I tried to focus my hearing not on the sounds coming from outside but on the sub levels below them. Those little noises every house makes as it settles in the evening coolness, a creak of a floor board or the groan of an ill fitting door. But I heard none of these things. I was about to blame my apprehension on the night cap I should have avoided and telling myself my imagination was in overdrive due to the hype of the night’s excitement.
I shook my head and let out a nervous laugh, there was no one else in the room of course. No bogey man hiding behind the couch. Ready to pounce and bite my head off, pull your self together I said out loud. So I leaned back once more and stared at the ceiling, my head resting on the couch. What I saw next made my spine tingle with fear and instantly raising gooseflesh on my arms.

A shadow, the outline of a man was creeping along, at first it moved slowly, and then darted into a corner like a frightened mouse. I watched petrified as its thin arms and claw like fingers reached for the wall opposite. Little by little it began to crawl down towards the floor before turning its self around into an up right position. It stood there arms at its side un-moving, staring at me with its black eyes. Moments went by, I wanted to scream, I wanted to get up and run from the room, but couldn’t. My heart was pounding so much I thought it might burst from my chest. What looked like an evil smile seemed to form within its grotesque jack o’ lantern head. Then just like the smoke from a dying fire it became paler until it was gone’’.

It was a powerful account, but was it true or was it just perhaps a succinct nightmare of an exhausted man?
I’d read a number of religions, legends, and belief systems describe shadowy spiritual beings or supernatural entities such as shades of the underworld and various shadowy creatures have long been a staple of folklore and ghost stories. It was my job to be impartial however so my edit would be as true to his word as possible.
Compared to the first my second edit on the Friday was particularly gruesome in its brief. The details came from a local farmer who reported he’d found some of his cattle had been mutilated. Not uncommon I first thought when I heard about the story from one of my associates on the paper and did it fit the category at all? Dogs in the area he talked about had been known to worry the sheep, in fact a few had been shot and killed over the years by the Pendleton police. The difference in this case was it’s similarity to the ‘’Snippy (lady) investigation. On September 9, 1967, Agnes King and her son Harry found the dead body of their three-year-old horse, Lady. Lady's head and neck had been skinned and de-fleshed, and the body displayed cuts that, to King, looked very precise. No blood was at the scene, according to Harry, and a strong medicinal odor was in the air. Early press coverage of the case misnamed Lady as Snippy. Snippy was Lady's sire and belonged to Nellie's husband, Berle Lewis. In most cases, mutilation wounds appear to be clean and carried out surgically. Mutilated animals are sometimes, though not always reported to have been drained of blood and show no sign of blood in the immediate area or around their wounds.
I pondered over the series of macabre pictures which accompanied the report the farmer had provided but decided they were too gruesome to print. Instead opting for a descriptive comparison of both cases and by concluding readers could form their own opinion, letters welcome.

By 5pm I’d everything wrapped up and was just about to leave when my cell phone rang. It was detective Stone. He told me there had been a development in Ray’s murder; they’d gotten a DNA sample from some blood spatter found at the scene. Since then technology in the field of forensic science had improved. Which meant they could now identify where it came from, ‘’it wasn’t an animal that tore off Rays face as we first thought’’ he said, ‘’the blood is human’’
Shortly after the autopsy the police speculated the murderer must have had an animal with them which attacked Ray. They thought maybe an exotic pet like a lion or tiger or maybe even a bear. However they couldn’t find hairs or match the blood samples taken to any creature.

To be honest Stones revelation didn’t surprise me, what did though was his next statement which I had to ask him to repeat. ‘’Just as I said the blood is human-’’ he reiterated ‘’-but the forensic guys determined it was old’’ I asked him what he meant by old? ‘’Like it had been dead for a long time’’ What he said weighed on me the rest of the night and into the following morning. My sleep was erratic and full of images from the day Rivers and I found Ray which had now taken a strange twist. The way the papers were strewn across the floor, the writings on his hand, the time and the name, I wasn’t even sure the police had followed up on that. After coming off the phone I realized I’d pushed it all to the back of my mind and when I’d sort of got my self together later the next day I was pulling into the car lot at the rear of La belle Italia.
The building looked like it could have been plucked from any avenue in Italy with its white block granite stone and arched Mediterranean windows above metal balconies opening out into the street below. A large green canopy lit up by hundreds of tiny lights covered the short walkway to the entrance. I could smell freshly baking pizza and hear laughing people filling the evening air. A short stout balding waiter dressed in black slacks and a white shirt with a bowtie greeted me as I approached. I quickly checked my watch, it was seven forty two. ‘’Penrose Anniversary Party’’ I said ‘’I’m Jamie, it’s my parents 25th they’re expecting me’’
‘’This way please’’ he ushered and began leading me through the islands of tables with their terracotta and cream checkered table cloths full of diners. Waiters carrying plates of food buzzed around us like bee’s stopping at flowers occasionally to collect nectar. The atmosphere in the place was lively with conversation drowning out the background music of some Italian Tenor. We walked all the way to the back passing under an archway of stone covered in fake climbing ivy where we came to a circular table ornamented with an array of wine glasses, red napkins and a sprinkling of flickering tee lights set in crystal bowls. Sitting around it I saw my parents along with my two aunts Mildred and Bernice beside them my Uncle Troy who was laughing so much he was spilling wine over his shirt. Then there was my mother’s cousin Daphne, a flamboyant business woman who owned her own online dating agency with her fake blonde wig, full red lips and augmented large breasts. Looking more the Dolly Parton doppelganger she was obviously getting in on Troy’s joke.

Daphne was the first to spot me ‘’look who’s here every body, it’s my favorite boy ‘’ she said making her way over. ‘’Oh my how tall you’ve got’’ she purred and gave me two loud air kisses either side of my cheeks. Dad and Mom waved, his though was halfheartedly and it was then I noticed just how gray and ashen he looked, far worse than I’d imagined after Mom’s phone call. Once Daphne had finished gushing over me to the others I took a vacant seat beside him and straight away asked how he was feeling. Being Dad however he brushed off his weary look as just a bug and joked about Moms overreaction before assuring me he was fine. Trepidation pushed aside I settled into an uneasy mood of enjoyment, more of a front to be honest so as not to spoil their celebrations by continually being inquisitive over his health. But as the evening progressed I could see he was struggling, he hadn’t eaten much of his meal and had picked at his favorite dessert of hot chocolate cake and ice cream. Small talk from Dad was thin but Mother asked how I was getting along at collage and about my position with the paper, which reminded me of the phone call I got from Detective Stone.
‘’I got talking with Detective Stone yesterday’’ I said ‘’ Strangest thing! He told me the blood found at Ray’s apartment was human, but had been dead for a long time. When I came off from talking with him I thought its gotta be a mistake, how could that be. Plus he didn’t even mention if they’d followed up on the name written on the back of Ray’s hand, you would think after all this time they would have found something’’
‘’You never mentioned that before’’ Mom said ‘’the name I mean, what was it?’’
‘’R.M.Reinfield’’ I replied. Mom shook her head and looked heavenward as if waiting for some divine intervention to my quandary.
‘’I know a man by that name’’ Dad quietly intervened ‘’I first met him while I was working for the mail service back in 2008. I was delivering a package to his address, had a foreign stamp on it if I recall. About this big’’ Dad made the shape of a box with his hands about shoe size.
‘’I remember thinking it wasn’t very heavy at the time, had a kind of an earthy smell about it too. Any way we got talking on the porch and he asked how I liked my job. I told him it was only temporary and I was really more of a Realtor. He was surprised but looked genuinely impressed I’d taken the job rather than be idle, ‘the devil finds work for idle hands ‘he joked. Then he asked if I had a card. I always carry some as you know so I gave him one. He told me he was a valet or butler to an important business man from over seas and they moved around a lot. Maybe it was government work I figured when he wouldn’t elaborate on his master’s line of employment when I asked so I let it go.

I never heard from him again, that was until about eighteen months ago when he called me out of the blue. He explained they where looking for accommodation locally and could I help. It so happened I did have a few To Let vacancies on the books at the time so I ran down the list of addresses over the phone. He took the time to listen to each of them and in a few cases asked me to repeat a particular one; I could only assume he was writing them down. He finished by saying he’d be in touch’
‘And?’ I said.
‘’And he did, his master Lord Ruthven had chosen a property from the inventory I’d given him and wanted me to set up a contract, which I was happy to do with the owner’’
‘’Who was?’’
‘’Tyler Brannon’’ Dad replied but no sooner had he said it than he began to collapse into a fit of coughs. Mom started to pat him rapidly on the back while I grabbed a napkin and held it under his chin which was soon getting covered in little flecks of blood. The commotion quickly gained the attention of everyone at the table and a few nearby diners who were doing their best to get a better view. Daphne was swiftly over as was Troy, both carrying a weighty frown.
‘’I think we should call 911’’ Troy offered. To which I immediately agreed. Thicker deeper spots now blotted the napkin and stained Dads teeth as his retching got heavier, yet in between them he was trying to tell me something. ‘’I don’t understand Dad’’ I said ‘’you need to relax and take deep breaths, the ambulance is on its way’’
‘’101 Sweetheart Nook’’ he finally gasped before passing out.

The Familiar
Part two
‘’R. M. Reinfield’’

The Paramedics took Dad to Anmed Health Medical Center in Anderson, Mom went with him and I followed behind in my car. The journey took about twenty minutes and during each one I worried a lot but I also couldn’t help but think what where the chances of two men with the same initials and surname being in Pendleton. Possible of course, but for me it was too much of a coincidence.
When I reached Anmed the Ambulance continued on to the E.R and I parked up. As I walked towards the red brick building in the humid air of the evening the moon was a full white orb hanging above its roof veining its silver threads of Luna light through an eiderdown of purple night sky. Patchwork pale clouds drifted by like ancient ships with full sails starting out on an ocean voyage to far distant lands. I stopped to watch briefly at the splendor of the sight above something rarely noticed I thought by those hurrying to care for their loved ones. How many poor souls might those ghostly ships carry tonight I wondered and prayed hard as I walked on my Dad wouldn’t be one of them.
Mom was talking with a young white coated doctor when I came in, neither was aware of me until I was upon them. ‘’This is my son Jamie’’ Mom offered when she saw me, the Doctor smiled and shook my hand.
‘’How is he?’’ I asked.
‘’Well we’ve done a quick assessment, he’s awake which is good’’ He said ‘’But we wont know what’s going on until we do some tests, it’s very early days yet’’
‘’Can I see him?’
‘’Of course, however he wont be able to talk much because we have him on oxygen.’’
‘’Thanks Doc, where is he?’’
Pointing he said ‘’Just through those doors’’
‘’Come on Mom’’ I said taking her hand and began to walk quickly in the direction he’d indicated. ‘’Thanks again Doc’’ I called back.
‘’Oh,- you’re welcome’’ he smiled and turned to go. ‘’Just one thing’’ he paused ‘’Have you any idea how he got those two strange bruises on his neck?’’
Mom shrugged ‘’I’ don’t know what your talking about’’ she said looking even more anxious.
‘’Not to worry’’ the Doc nodded ‘’I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it, now if you’ll excuse me’’
We walked to the doors and went through into a short corridor with a marble white floor; the air had a light smell of clinical disinfectant mixed with urine. A sickly unpleasant combination on such a humid evening, we found a blue door marked E.R and opened it into what I can only describe as organized chaos. After the serenity of the outer reception area this was a shock to the system. The room seemed to be ablaze with nurses and Doctors in blue fatigues. Before us monitors flickered, beeps and whirring machines congealed together with excited voices in rolling surf of noise.
‘Follow me’ Mom said and led me to a curtained bay about halfway down the room. Behind the screen when I pulled it back Dad was sitting upright propped with pillows and wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, his eyes closed, flickering open when I took his hand.
His gray hair was tossed and his clothes had been removed and replaced with a white cotton hospital gown.
I smiled and he squeezed my fingers ‘Hey, you’ I said ‘gave us all quite a scare tonight’
Dad slipped the mask down from his face taking care not to disturb his finger oximeter which was keeping a check on his heart beat and oxygen levels displaying them on a screen above his bed. ‘I’m sorry for spoiling the evening’ he breathed.
‘Why didn’t you tell me how sick you where George’ Mom sighed.
‘It’s ok’ I said ‘The main thing now is for you to get better’ and Mom nodded in agreement telling him to put his mask back on. ‘The doctor mentioned something about bruises on you neck dad? ’
Without talking he turned his head and pointed to two finger tip sized yellow and black abrasions about half an inch apart just below his left ear. The area of skin around them looked red and inflamed.
‘Any idea how you got those?’ I said leaning in to inspect them more closely.
‘Darn things been dogging me for months’ he admitted pulling his mask down again, much to the displeasure of Mom. ‘I think they’re mosquito bites which I probably picked up when I collected the rent a few times from Sweetheart Nook. Its backs onto a lake so I guess they came from there.’
‘Didn’t Reinfield set up an auto payment transfer with Tyler Brannon’s bank?’
‘He did, but a few times he called me and apologized saying there had been a technical error with the transaction and could I come and pick up the amount due in cash. I told him it was irregular but didn’t see the harm in doing it. We arranged a time for my first visit which was on a Friday if I recall. I drove over to the house, parked up and rang the door bell. While I was waiting for someone to answer I glanced around the drive way. Other than Mr.Rienfields car which was a vintage 1948 blood red Tucker, nothing much had changed since I’d run my eyes over the property a few months previous. After a minute or so he came to the door, shook my hand and invited me in. I explained I couldn’t stay long but he insisted on making some tea before completing our business. The funny thing is I recall sitting on the couch waiting for Mr.Reinfield to come out of the kitchen. I remember him pouring me some tea, which I drank. Then the darnest thing happened, the next thing I remember I was back in my car holding a wad of hundred dollar bills. Payment for the rent I assumed, but I don’t recall him giving it to me or leaving. I drove home; I never said anything to your Mom. What could I tell her after all, so I went to bed and when I woke up the next morning my neck was swollen. I applied some antiseptic lotion and put the experience out of my head but-’
‘But what Dad?’
‘Each time I went there the same thing happened’
‘How many?’
‘Four in all’
‘When was the last time?’
‘Last month’
I asked him ‘Can you remember what Reinfield looked like, can you describe him?’ he thought hard But he couldn’t, no matter how much he tried
‘Why can’t I see his face Jamie, I should be able to, am I losing my mind’ he said and I could see he was getting fretful.
‘Think Dad, one more question, can you recall the time of your arranged meetings?’
I watched his eyes dart back and forth in his aging head trying his best to recount. After a few moments he fell back against his pillow exhausted. ‘9pm I’m sure’ he said.
‘Is that important?’ Mom asked.
‘I dunno’ I replied. ‘Maybe’ I said as I thought about what was written on the back of Ray’s hand. ‘I think I might ‘pay Mr. Reinfield a visit tomorrow’

I stayed with them both until they admitted Dad which was around 2am; Mom opted to sleep on the leather easy chair beside his bed even though I offered to drive her home. According to the same Doc I spoke to earlier he wanted to keep him for observation commenting his prognosis was uncertain until he could carry out more tests, which really meant he hadn’t a clue why Dad was ill.

The problem I had however was I just couldn’t turn up at Sweetheart Nook unannounced, if Reinfield was any way protective of his superior the likely hood of him seeing me would be zero. But after Dads story my curiosity was pricked to the point where I wouldn’t be able to settle until I got some idea what was going on. Was I barking up the wrong tree? I wondered, could it be just a fluke with Ray and Dads identically arranged rendezvous. Then there was the business with him losing time on his visits, and of course the marks on his neck? If any thing going there might turn out to be nothing more than an innocent chance to introduce myself. So I decided as I drove home I would go on the pretense of collecting the next due rent on behalf of my Father.

My cell phone ringing woke me up from an uneasy sleep and the picture of Mom on my screen let me know who was calling. It also informs me I’ve slept longer than I wanted to.
‘Hi Mom every thing Ok?’
‘Your Dads blood tests have come back’ she said ‘I’ve just spoken with the Doctor. He explained there was a high concentration of proteins, enzymes and polypeptides in his system which has been fluctuating over time. On their own they are harmless but together they can be toxic’

‘I’m not sure what you mean?’ I admitted ‘Was he poisoned, is that what you are saying?’

‘I asked the same question, but the Doctor put it that it was more like snake venom, some of its biological structures have similar specific effects on blood coagulation, blood pressure regulation and transmission of the nervous or muscular impulses. The zoo-toxins discovered as well would have immobilize him temporally although it was unusual he said for a snake bite to be on the neck area and even more odd that it seemed to have taken place on more than one occasion. He also reiterated the zoo-toxins in his blood stream where of no known snake venom on record’

I was stunned into a silence, then finally said ‘Are you telling me Dads been bitten by a mysterious type of snake or creature they can’t identify which means there’s probably no antidote, and for god knows how long? I don’t understand’
‘I know it sounds crazy Jamie, the Doc asked did we have an exotic pet. I told him we don’t even own a dog’
‘How is he?’
‘He’s sleeping at the moment but they plan to do a blood transfusion later this morning. They hope this will flush out his system’
We talked for another couple of minutes in which I suggested she should go home, get some rest but I knew she wouldn’t leave him. Not until she was sure he was going to be ok. ‘I’ll call you later then’ I said ‘I’ve a few things to take care of first’ I told her when she asked was I coming to the Hospital.
Frankly subsequent to what she said I thought my planned visit to Sweetheart Nook was now even more important, but first there was one person I had to go to. Someone who I knew could have an opinion on what this creature might be my collage lecturer, Professor Abraham Van Hesling.


The library at Clemson University sits center of its sprawling 1,400 acres and overlooks Lake Hartwell and the oval amphitheater beyond. Its official name is the Robert Muldrow Cooper Library and the formidable white building has six levels. If you ask anyone there they will tell you Professor Van Hesling can be usually found on the fourth floor somewhere between popular reading and reference books, most evenings and always at the weekend.

The Professors designate is biology and the study of human nature, but everyone knows this unconventional tutor also has a fathomless understanding of natural science and an unhealthy interest in the occult. Its midday by the time I get there but I find him sitting engrossed in a heavy brown leather bound book near the coffee station, and close to the rest rooms. His choice of seating location is typical of his spatial awareness and emblematic of his intellectual dexterity. Even when I approach and stand looking down on him his concentration is still so unabated with his subject matter to the point I have to cough to get his attention. At this he looks up and nervously slides his glasses onto his forehead. It takes a second or two for him to recognize me.
‘Ah Jamie!’ he smiles ‘I heard about your Dad, how is he?’
‘Do you mind if I sit?’ I ask, and he points to the chair opposite. ‘Please’ he says and takes a pen from his jacket pocket placing it just below the line he is reading. ‘Now you have my full attention’

Even though he’s been living and teaching in America since 1981 the professor still hasn’t lost some of his Dutch accent. He is the epitome of how the world would imagine an intellectual eccentric should look like; a walking cliche of wild wispy gray hair resembling a seeding dandy lion. Short in stature with his homely paunch stretching his tweed waistcoat complete with white shirt and black bow tie, a hurricane of fashion remnant of another era.
‘Now how can I help you Jamie?’ he asks, and over the next 30 minutes I tell him the whole story right up to this point. When I’m finished he falls back into his chair and begins to nod rapidly while stroking his delicate goatee. ‘What, what are you thinking Professor?’ I offer as I watch him get up and begin pacing around. Then without talking he moves swiftly over to a tall oak cabinet containing an array of books which he runs his finger slowly along.
‘Ah Ha!’ he says stopping on one. He takes it out and comes back to the table placing it between us.
‘I want to read you something Jamie’ he says opening the book. ‘’But first, on earth as vampire sent, 
Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent: 
Then ghostly haunt thy native place, 
and suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy Father, daughter, sister, wife, 
At midnight drain the stream of life; 
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce 
Must feed thy livid living corpse: 
Thy victims ere they yet expire 
Shall know thy demon for their sire, 
As cursing thee, thou cursing them, 
Thy flowers are withered on the stem’’ …This is an extract from an epic poem written by Lord Byron in 1813 named The Giaour. George Gordon Byron the 6th was a British peer and some of his notable friends were John William Polidori who was also his personal physician. Percy Bysshe Shelly and Mary Shelly’
‘Do you mean thee Mary Shelly the author of Frankenstein’ I said.
‘One and the same’ He replied ‘However what’s important here is Polidori wrote a short story named ‘’The Vampyre’’ in 1819. In it Polidori’s un-dead protagonist is Lord Ruthven who in turn was a modeled character of Lord Byron’.
I quickly interrupted the professor ‘But isn’t that the identical name as Reinfields master, I don’t understand?’
‘What I’m saying is some have speculated Polidori and Shelly did not write their books as fiction but more likely fact based. Scholars believe they had real life encounters with vampires and the Frankenstein monster actually existed. Created by Polidori as an experiment, after all he was a renowned surgeon and known to be fascinated by reanimation of the dead. Reinfield is also a character from the 1922 German vampire movie Nosferatu. This is not his real name, but what he is,is real, he is a familiar. In European folklore and folk belief they were believed to be supernatural entities that would assist witches or cunning folk in their practice of magic. According to records they would appear in numerous guises often as an animal but as well as a human or humanoid figure. Described as ‘’clearly defined, three-dimensional…forms. Vivid with color and animated with movement and sound’’ by those alleging to have come in contact with them, unlike later descriptions of ghost, dark figures with their smoky undefined forms’
‘Shadow man’ I blurted out.
‘Exactly, your Father has got drawn in to something very evil and dangerous; unwittingly he has become a transitory elixir for this malevolence. Each time he went he would be drugged with the tea, and then led into a darkened room because sunlight can obliterate this iniquity. He must go willingly however because the Vampire Reinfield protects cannot render him immobile until he bites his neck. Once this is done your Father will fall into a dreamless state by the zoo-toxins where by this parasite will drink his blood to sustain him until he can kill, or murder a suitable victim’
‘Like Ray and that would also explain the mutilated cattle’ I said.
‘ Right, on the night Tyler Brannon saw the shadow man I believe he disturbed Ruthven who was after his wife and child which you said was sick at the time and could not have resisted him. He couldn’t be sure Brannon would succumb easily to his toxin because of his size. It was Reinfields job to acquire him victims. I believe he read the articles you wrote in the paper; he knew Ray would be fascinated by whichever made up supernatural story he intended to share with him. He must have thought Ray would have been an easy prey considering his fervor for everything mystical. Maybe so, but Ray wasn’t stupid either I’d wager, and he quickly figured out what Reinfield really was the night they met. Most likely he tried to over power him, but from what you tell me Ray was a big man, a fighter by his nature. But in the end he was no match for Ruthven who I guess came to Reinfields aid. As you said Rays apartment showed the evidence of an almighty struggle. Angered by this Ruthven would have been so enraged he wanted to make an example of him. Hence your gruesome discovery, he drank his fill of Rays blood, sucking the very life force out of him until all that remained was the rotting corpse you found’
I sat there astounded by what I was hearing, my mouth agape like a wailing ghost before blurting out ‘Witches, magic and vampires, Jesus Christ professor you expect me to believe all this?’
The professor leaned forward in his chair his face sullen his demeanor more serious than I’d ever seen before.
‘I know how it sounds Jamie’ he said ‘All of it ludicrous and nonsensical but trust me when I tell you my ancestors through the age’s have had experience with this type of evil before. I like them, have dedicated my life to the eradication of these demons. Ruthven has already had a taste of your Father’s blood and if he isn’t by now he will soon be craving for a savor of his sweet claret. We must destroy him before this happens, tomorrow you will arrange to meet with Reinfield at Sweetheart Nook on the pretense of collecting the rent, once you explain your Father is too ill to be there himself. He will agree because you are coming willingly, he will see you as another easy quarry for his master to enjoy. Once inside he will lock the door then offer you tea like he did before with your Dad. Pretending while you drink it he will prepare his master to meet you .But this time you will fool him into thinking you have fallen foul to his potion and while he is in the other room with Ruthven you will unlock the door and let me in’
‘Then what?’ I asked.
‘Then I’m going to send both of these S O B’s to hell’
I came away from the Library with my head spinning and my mind trying to latch on to any form of logic in the professor’s explanation. Sure I’d watched old horror movies about vampires and black and white films of Frankenstein featuring Bella Lagosi as Dracula and Boris Karloff as the monster never once thinking they were real. Of course they weren’t but did they actually have a hint of truth in them?-According to Van Hesling-yes, and all the weapons Hollywood used to kill Dracula he would employ also. However he was unsure how old this Ruthven was or how much he may have evolved over the years. He could be impervious he said to garlic, holy water and may have a refection. One thing was for certain a wooden stake through his heart will destroy him, but getting close enough to hammer it home would be dangerous. Later that evening I went back to the hospital to visit with Dad, thankfully when I saw him he was looking much better after his transfusion. I didn’t go into or mention my talk with Van Hesling, there was no point. Focusing more on his encouragement to rest and putting his mind at ease I could deal with his business for a while. This let me ask him sub diffusely for Reinfield’s cell number. Back in my car I rang it and to my surprise a normal sounding well spoken English gentleman answered. As it turned out the Professor was right, Reinfield was more than happy to meet, if anything he sounded eager for it. As I drove home under the Luna hue of a full moon in the night sky a chill ran through my body causing me to look in my rear view mirror just to check I was alone.

Another night and another uneasy sleep ended early, as I laid and watched the sunrise from my apartment window. What little dreams I’d had were filled with macabre images mostly of the grim reaper dressed in his black robes holding a scythe of dripping blood and his skeletal finger beckoning me; His hideous evil laugh still echoing in my head as I shot bolt upright drenched in sweat. Was this a premonition of my impending death I pondered, or a warning not to meddle with things I didn’t understand?
Mom called me around nine thirty while I sat at my dinning table staring into my third cup of coffee which had now gone cold. I wasn’t really listening when she told me how Mildred, Bernice, Uncle Troy and Daphne had all stopped by the hospital to inquire about Dads well being after I’d left. My mind was too preoccupied with what I’d let the professor talk me into to really pay attention and no sooner had I finished with her than my phone rang again. This time it was Van Hesling. I explained the meeting was arranged for 9pm ‘’Of course’’ he said ‘’It’ll be dark by then and Ruthven will be at his strongest in the shadows. But we must be more resolute if we are to succeed’’ We arranged to gather at the library at 8pm to give us enough time to go over our plan, load up his medieval armory and drive the twenty minutes to Sweetheart Nook. As I put my phone back in its cradle I couldn’t help but notice just how much my hand was shaking. Needless to say the rest of the day went by in a blur of nervous anticipation.
As agreed I arrived at the library right on the stroke of eight, the evening sun was hanging low in the sky and casting long shadows across the car lot. I’d changed out of my usual casual clothes and put on a shirt and tie with a blue jacket over a pair of khaki chinos. I felt over dressed and hot. The Professor was already waiting by his old burgundy station wagon when I pulled up beside him and looked heavily engrossed in his cell phone. ‘Checking Google on how to kill vampires’ I joked when he looked up
‘Is that all your bringing?’ I asked seeing a solitary brown leather brief case sitting by his feet.
‘Trust me Jamie’ he said lifting it ‘If I can’t kill him with what’s in here we’ll both be dead’
‘Not really what I wanted to hear’ I said as I put it on the back seat.
‘I have one other thing Jamie and I want you to take it’
The professor reached into his jacket pocket and took out a gun, a vintage Colt peace maker six shooter. The kind you see in all the old western movies, with a pearl white grip.
‘Whoa!’ I said in defense ‘I don’t do guns professor, these things kill people’
He looked at me sternly. ‘Have you forgotten why we’re here? These things aren’t human Jamie; Reinfield maybe once was a long time ago, but Ruthven is evil. Worse than a rabid dog, he is a wickedness that needs to be destroyed before he murders again to satisfy his thirst. There are six bullets in the barrel; each one is tipped with silver. You will use it to hold back Reinfield while I confront Ruthven, firstly with my crucifix hopefully weakening him enough to let me dowse him with Holy water. This should burn his skin and send him scrambling for his coffin where he feels safe and sleeps during the day. Once he is cornered then I will drive a wooden stake through his heart with my mallet. If Reinfield makes any move to protect his master you will shoot him, can you do that?’
I shook my head and nervously took the pistol placing it into the back of my trousers covered with my jacket tail.

(Note: Part Three - The Conclusion - follows in the next posting.)

---