The Beast of 1977 (Book 1)

Chapter 4

That evening, Isaac stood at his father's bedroom door with a fist pick lodged in his thick hair, silently watching as the well-disciplined man studied his bible, as he did every evening prior to falling asleep.

Forever it amazed Isaac at how deep and methodical his dad would sink himself into his lessons, even to the point where the man would become totally oblivious to another person standing near him.

Isaac examined his father up and down as though he were an age old masterpiece that was clothed in a pair of striped pajama bottoms and a white Fruit of the Loom undershirt. His drooping cheeks and sullen eyes gave the impression that whatever he was reading upon in his great book was something very serious, yet somber.

Mr. Mercer then sighed and took off his reading glasses before slowly closing his book and staring off straight ahead at the bare, white wall for ten seconds. Once the ten seconds had passed, the man gradually looked up at Isaac and slightly grinned as if he were awakening from a stupor.

"Hey." Mr. Mercer yawned as he placed his bible on the bed next to him. "I didn't see you there."

Humbly grinning with his hands in his pockets, Isaac said, "You never do, dad. I just stopped by to see how you were doin.'"

"Aww, shoot, I'm just getting ready to fall asleep." Mr. Mercer gleefully smiled while stretching his chunky arms outwards. "It's been a long day. A long, good day, son."

"You know, I was just thinkin' to myself, perhaps I'll go and find a job."

"You goin' back to the garage?"

"Uh...no, sir," Isaac began to squirm. "I was thinkin' about maybe another line of work. Maybe...cleaning."

Almost immediately, Mr. Mercer's eyes grew two sizes larger with joy at his son's remark. "Cleaning, huh? And what brought this on? I thought you liked working down at the garage with Larry and Marvell. You three have been buddies for years."

"Yeah, I know, but...I wanna do something on my own for a change."

"Well, I can put in a good word for you with Mr. Wallace. Maybe he can put you with me at the federal building downtown. We can go in together every afternoon. That is if you don't mind getting off at eight every evening."

"That's cool. I figure it's time for me to start something new. Like you said this morning, 'start a brand new slate.'

Mr. Mercer smiled favorably at his boy and asked, "So, what was it like to see Isaiah after all this time?"

"Okay, I guess." Isaac huffed."Just okay," Mr. Mercer questioned in awe. "I figured you'd be over there all night."

"Yeah, me too, but he acts like he doesn't even know me." Isaac griped. "Lynn says that I just need to give him time to readjust to me all over again. Man, if only she had brought him along when she came to visit, then he wouldn't be actin' like this."

"Sometimes we act in the best interest of those we love." Mr. Mercer patiently explained. "Lynnette did what she thought was right for your son. You can't be mad at her for that. Proverbs 14:29 says that whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly."

Isaac swallowed heavily at his father's words and asked, "So does that mean I'm supposed to forgive Lynn, even when she keeps my boy away from me?"

"It means put it behind you and be thankful for what you have now. God hates an unforgiving heart."

Isaac humbly shook his head and then said, "I was planning on taking us three down to Jimmy's tomorrow for dinner."

"Oh yeah," Mr. Mercer yawned.

"Yes, sir, just a little something to get us all back together again."

Without saying another word, Mr. Mercer reached over to his nightstand drawer and pulled out a black wallet. He then took out a bill and handed it to Isaac.

Isaac took the money and gazed seriously at the numeral 20 as if he had never laid eyes on such a large amount of money before in his life.

"For real," Isaac marveled.

With a grin and a shrug, Mr. Mercer said, "Why not? You can pay me back when you get your first paycheck."

Isaac stuffed the bill into his pants pocket and watched as his father began to tuck himself into his covers.

There was so much he wanted to tell the man on the way home from Ashlandview, but the shock of leaving the place was still laying heavy on his soul.

"Hey, dad," Isaac stuttered, trying not to allow his voice to crack in mid-sentence, "I just wanted to say that I'm...sorry for everything I did."

Mr. Mercer raised himself up from out of the bed and stroked his face while looking up at his child with consoling eyes.With a heavy sigh, the man said, "Son, what happened has happened. Neither God nor I want you to live the rest of your life full of regret. I realize that what took place back in November with your friends getting killed really tore you apart, but they're in the good Lord's hands now. You're here,

and you have to move on, not just for your sake, but also for Lynnette and Isaiah. You've always been a good boy, now go and be a good man." From NôvelDrama.Org.

With that, Mr. Mercer cut off his lamp while Isaac, with tears welling up in his eyes gently whispered, "Goodnight, dad."

Isaac turned and carefully shut his father's bedroom door before venturing out into the darkened hallway.

Wearing only a long John shirt and a pair of grew sweatpants, Isaac went into the living room and turned on the television. The full moon outside shined brightly into the room like a fog lamp in the darkness.He flicked on the lamp and picked up the TV's remote control to flip the channels.

Isaac recalled his dad saying that it was a good day. The young man wanted more than anything to put the past behind him. It seemed as though that all the important people that he had hurt had pretty much forgiven him, which in turn set him at ease.

Isaac tossed the remote down onto the couch and stepped over to the mantle where a wide mirror was mounted, along with an assortment of Kodak pictures that sat side by side above the fireplace. Isaac picked up the frame of himself, before his eyes changed their color. From the photo to the mirror and back again he gazed.

The person he saw in the picture was someone he missed the most, while the man in the mirror was someone that he realized would not go away anytime soon, no matter how much and how hard he prayed. The longer he peered into the mirror that was the angrier his stomach seemed to grow. Isaac placed the frame back onto the mantle and made his way into the kitchen.

11:10 p.m.

Jiffypop popcorn cooked on the stove that Isaac was standing over. He watched and waited as the metallic package ballooned in both size and smell over the course of three and a half minutes.

11:16 p.m.

Isaac watched television while gobbling down every kernel of buttery popcorn that his wide mouth could inhale, along with the oatmeal cream pies that were given to him earlier in the day.

11:21 p.m.

From one channel to the next he flipped and flipped; from the eleven o' clock news, to a Bewitched rerun, and all the way to an interview with President Jimmy Carter.

Isaac wasn't sleepy, which was odd considering that he had been awake since four that morning awaiting his release from the institution. For him, being away from such a protected environment like a mental hospital meant that all of the things that he wanted to do while he was interned there could at last come to fruition, but sitting there in the lonely living room, gawking at a television screen and listening to the furnace roar from out of the nearby register wasn't exactly what he had in mind for a homecoming.

Isaac envisioned a girlfriend that was no longer leery of her man's behavior. He longed for a son that would embrace his dad the moment he walked through the door, but when all of his so called hopes and aspirations fell through, there remained only an empty feeling in the pit of his gut. He was bored and let down, and watching a President babble on and on wasn't going to alleviate his condition one bit.

12:33 a.m.

Isaac got up, went to the bathroom and shaved. The young man detested even the slightest stubble on his face. With every meticulous stoke of the blade Isaac made sure that not one shard of hair was left

behind. Even if it meant cutting close to the grain, nothing was missed.

Deeper and more carefully he shaved, until at last, like many times in the past, he nicked himself, this time just beside his left nostril.

"Shit!" He screeched, making sure that his father was nowhere near to hear him.

Isaac reached over and ripped off a piece of toilet paper before patting the open wound that was beginning to drip into the sink below.

At first, Isaac ignored the blood, as he usually did in past instances; it was just his own blood. But the more he tried to soak up the substance that was all the more his nostrils began to flare. Suddenly, the blood had a scent that seemed to burn his nose hairs every time he inhaled.

Without notice, everything around Isaac began to drop into slow motion. The man felt as light as a feather at that moment. Just then, the bathroom light started to flicker off and on. Isaac looked up and twisted the hot bulb to make sure it was screwed in tight. He then looked down at his bloody fingers. His mind went completely blank at the sight. It was as if he had never witnessed such a gruesome occurrence before.

There was no fear, angst or even a slight hint of shock, just subtle curiosity and a strong aroma that caused his once settled stomach to rumble all over again.

The light flickered again, but by then Isaac gave it no attention, he was entirely too mesmerized by his messy hands.

Minutes passed by before, like an oncoming, rushing wind, a bald, naked black man unexpectedly stumbled into the bathroom with his head hung low to where his youthful face could not be seen.

The very second Isaac looked up his eyes immediately caught sight of the uncanny figure. Out of sheer fright he stumbled back into the shower curtain, nearly tearing the plastic off the rod.

"C'mon, man." Isaac pitifully whimpered, too scared to scream out loud.

The intruder said nothing. With his head still hanging, he simply dragged himself back out of the bathroom and into the dark hallway.

Breathing heavily, Isaac began to cry before getting back to his feet and reluctantly following in behind the slow marching phantom.

Isaac trailed him all the way to the living room where the television set was still on. Isaac watched as the man dropped himself down onto the sofa. The man sat there, apparently waiting for Isaac's petrified self to join him. Isaac stood next to the television, staring down at the nude figure.

He wanted to see the man's face, just to make sure that he resembled a human, if not at one time in its existence.

The phantom then raised his right hand, and just like that, the television and the lamp went out simultaneously, leaving the entire living room completely black.

Out of fear, Isaac began to turn and run, but the phantom only held up his right index finger in a forceful manner, as to tell the young man not to move.Isaac paused directly in the middle of the floor, seemingly entranced by the intruder's potent motion.

He then slowly walked over and sat down in the chair that was placed in front of the couch.Piece by piece Isaac began to take off his own clothes until he was stark naked. His mind was stagnant as his eyes shined away in the darkness. No words left his tight lips. Isaac remained still while his eyes stared straight ahead at the specter across from him.

***

2:37 a.m.

Mr. Mercer awoke to a scratchy throat that early morning. It was usual, which was why he always had a glass of water seated on his nightstand beside him.

He reached over and swallowed half of the cool drink before placing the cup back onto the table.

As he rolled back over in the bed, out of the corner of his foggy left eye was a twinkle which resembled two, tiny lights staring back at him from the side of the bed.

Mr. Mercer squeezed his eyes enough to where he could make out a round shape behind the lights. Panicked and out of breath, the man grabbed a hold of his covers and gasped for air while squinting some more until the silhouette rose up and began lurking itself around the bed.

"Isaac...is that you, son?" He stammered, holding the covers as tight as he could.

As Isaac casually stumbled towards the door, he slurred, "Em llik." (Kill me)

Mr. Mercer watched as his son crept out the already opened door before watching the door itself slam shut without Isaac even grabbing a hold of the knob.

The man laid there in his bed, drowning in his own pool of sweat and breathing heavier than he had done so in years.