The Second Coming
Copyright © 2012 J. A. Fritschi
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0-9855-5210-7
ISBN-13: 9780985552107
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9855521-1-4
For my wife Shannon. For you to me are the only one.
Thank you to all of my family and friends who supported and encouraged me throughout this process. A special thanks to Clay and Tanner for inspiring me every day.
The Second Coming
By William Butler Yeats 1865–1939
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Source: The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (1989)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Epilogue
chapter 1
OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA, 1970
David Carpenter was overly protective of his youngest son. He had to be. His wife died due to complications while giving birth to him; at least that is what he told everyone. He couldn’t tell people what really happened for fear of what the church would do if they discovered his dark secret. Only David and his doctor knew what happened on that fateful night; at least that is what David hoped.
So when he and little Johnny found a dead snake curled up in the dirt under some bushes in his back yard on a bright Sunday afternoon, David told his son to stay away from it while he went to get a shovel and bucket.
As soon as his father was out of sight, Johnny’s curiosity got the best of him and he slowly crept toward the glimmering snake coiled in the shade. As he got closer, he was fascinated by its dark colors and scales. He crouched down and examined the white eyes of the reptile.
“I wanna play with the snake,” he thought innocently enough as he reached his tiny hands out and picked the snake up. The snake’s eyes came to life as it began to writhe in Johnny’s hands. He didn’t wish for it to come to life. That would have been too much of a concept for a little boy to understand, but just the fact that he wanted to play with the snake was enough to bring it back to life. Little Johnny was filled with wonder as the snake slithered in his hands and looked at him with opaque eyes and a flickering forked tongue.
“I wanna touch his tongue,” he thought intrigued as he held his finger striking distance from the snake’s mouth.
At that moment his father came walking around the corner carrying the shovel and bucket and was shocked with what he saw. He was about to yell at Johnny to put the snake down, but then he realized the snake was not a danger to his son. As a matter of fact, from where he was standing, it appeared as though his son was in control of the snake; as if he was some sort of snake charmer. He couldn’t believe it. He thought for sure the snake was dead.
“Let’s put the snake down,” his father instructed in a calm manner. “Carefully place him on the ground so he doesn’t bite you.”
“Okay, Papa.” Johnny nonchalantly set the two foot snake back in the dirt and it slithered under the bush where they found it.
David knelt down by Johnny’s side and placed his arm protectively around his son as they gazed at the now coiled snake. He glanced at his toe headed son who was smiling from cheek to cheek. How was that possible? He was sure the snake was dead. It didn’t move when he poked it with a stick. It must have been playing possum. It was the only logical explanation. At least that’s what David told himself until a couple of months later when it happened again.
David and his 5 boys ranging in age from 4 to 10 were sitting around the dinning room table one morning having eggs, bacon and toast when all of a sudden there was a loud explosion as something crashed into the window shattering glass all over the boys and the table. David jumped from his chair and all of the boys were screaming except Johnny. David was consoling everyone when he noticed Johnny crouching next to a dead Black Crow lying on the hardwood floor. David knew it was dead because there were a couple of drops of blood next to its head and its neck appeared broken. David watched in awe as Johnny carefully picked the bird up and cradled it in his palms. It was as large as his head.
David saw his son’s lips move, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying over the screams of his children. He watched in amazement as Johnny walked over to the shattered window and lofted the black bird out.
“Fly away,” he said barely loud enough for David to hear over the chaos. The bird flew out the window into the great wide yonder. Now, David couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He looked around the table at the other boys to see if they saw what just happened. His two oldest boys were staring at Johnny in awe.
“That was so cool,” Simon exclaimed proudly.
Johnny just smiled and bounded back to his chair and sat down like nothing happened.
Later that night, when David was putting Johnny to bed, he asked him why he picked up the bird and tossed it out the window.
“Because I wanted to help him Papa,” Johnny replied innocently.
“What did you say to the bird?”
“I said ‘poor little bird’ and then told it to fly away.”
David shook his head in disbelief as he looked at his son’s angelic face. His little boy had a power that he was not even aware he possessed. David brushed his son’s blonde hair to the side of his forehead.
“You can’t keep saving animals that are hurt, especially in front of other people,” he said softly.
“Why?” Johnny asked confused.
David pondered the question as he stroked his son’s cherub cheeks. He wasn’t sure how to explain to a 4 year old boy that if people knew about the power he possessed, they would exploit him for their own gain. How could he put it in terms he would understand?
“Because you have a special gift and if the wrong people find out about it, they may try to make you do bad things.”
“Why?”
“Because there are bad people in the world.”
“Did the bad people take Mommy?”
David sighed as he looked at Johnny with affection. “No. Mommy is in heaven. I’m surer of that now than I have ever been.”
David never saw Johnny bring anything back to life larger than the Black Crow and he figured it was because he didn’t grasp the concept of what he was doing. He was too young to know how to use his powers and David soon realized it was his responsibility to make sure that Johnny got the right mentoring. That is when he turned to the church to help raise his son. He would seek the guidance from men of cloth and have the church involved in every aspect of his upbringing. His son would be raised to fulfill his destiny as the second coming of the messiah as foretold in the Satanic Codex.
chapter 2
OAKLAND, CA 2002
Nurse Nancy spent her life preparing for the apocalypse. Not physically as much as spiritually. Most people found this little old lady strange, but she was okay with that. She was always secure with her beliefs. That’s why she never married or had children. She devoted herself to God and doing his work helping others. How could she not after what she witnessed that fateful night at the hospital almost forty years prior?
Every night when she got home from the hospital, she would get changed, pour herself a glass of sherry and sit in her living room reading the bible knowing that one night he would come. Tonight was no different than any other night except tonight was the night he would show up on her front porch.
It wasn’t difficult for the killer to find Nurse Nancy. He hacked into the hospital records from the night he was born and found her name. After that it was just a matter of locating where she lived and that was easier than he anticipated. She wasn’t even trying to conceal her identity.
As the killer rang her doorbell, he wondered if she would recognize him. Did she even know what happened that night? He couldn’t wait to see her face.
The ring of the doorbell startled Nurse Nancy from her reading. She wasn’t used to receiving company and she assumed it was one of the neighborhood kids and their parent selling Girl Scout cookies or something of the sort. She laid her bible down on the chair-side table and walked over to the front door. She peered out the peephole and saw a well groomed man dressed in a black shirt with a white clerical collar and she knew immediately it was him. Her heart sank with regret as she slowly opened the door a crack and peered out.
“Can I help you?” she asked timidly.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m looking for a Nancy Wilcox,” the killer said amenably.
“I’m Nancy Wilcox. What’s this all about?”
“Are you the same Nancy Wilcox who was a nurse at Summit hospital on the night of June 5th, 1966?”
That was all she needed to hear for confirmation that it was him. “It’s you,” she said appalled.
“You recognize me?” the killer replied impressed.
“Even in disguise I know the face of evil.”
“How are you so certain I am who you think I am?”
“I knew one day you would come, I just wasn’t sure if you would come for me, but now I can see that it was inevitable.”
“Are you going to invite me in?”
“Do I have a choice?”
The killer stared at her with his dark eyes and she held the door open for him. He crossed her threshold and she shut the door behind him.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” The killer asked.
Nurse Nancy showed him to the living room. She sat in her chair and he sat on the couch and admired her art work.
“You have an interesting collection of religious paintings,” the killer said impressed.
“What is it that you want from me?” Nurse Nancy asked impatiently.
The killer stared deep into her eyes. “I want to know what happened on the night of June 5th, 1966.”
Nurse Nancy exhaled and then against her better judgment, she told him everything she could remember from that night. It took her about fifteen minutes and when she was done she was exhausted, but relieved.
The killer glared at her with disgust. “You knew what they were going to do to me and you didn’t do anything about it.”
“I wanted to do something, but when I realized what your date of birth was, I knew it was true.”
“What was true?”
“The Satanic Codex.”
The killer stood and began to pace the room as he pulled on surgical gloves. “If you thought the Satanic Codex was real, why didn’t you kill me?”
“Because I am not a murderer and that would have interfered with God’s plan for the apocalypse.”
The killer stood before Nurse Nancy in her chair as she rubbed her rosary beads nervously. “That was a mistake,” the killer said as he reached down with both hands and began to strangle her.
Nurse Nancy knew as soon as the killer put the latex gloves on that he was going to strangle her, but she didn’t mind. She was happy to be playing a role in God’s grand scheme and she knew she would be rewarded in the afterlife. When the killer began to choke her, she didn’t resist. She accepted that it was her time and prayed to God as the pressure in her head began to build until she felt like her face would explode; and then she was gone.
The killer let go of her neck, removed the latex gloves and put them in his front pocket. He didn’t want to kill the kindly old lady, but he didn’t have a choice. She was the only one who could connect him back to that night. With her out of the way, he could plot his revenge.
chapter 3
OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA 2002
When Detective Mike McCormick pulled his black Ford Interceptor sedan to a stop in front of the crime scene, he didn’t have any idea the homicide he was about to investigate, the first homicide of his career with the Oakland Police Department, would be the link to an investigation that would alter the course his life. He was only thinking about not fucking it up and embarrassing himself or letting his partner down.
Big Pete wasn’t just Mike’s partner. They had been college roommates and played football together at the University of Arizona until Mike suffered a career-ending knee injury his sophomore year. After they graduated, Big Pete was drafted as an offensive lineman for the Oakland Raiders and Mike joined the Navy SEALs. When Mike returned from Afghanistan after 9/11, Big Pete’s pro football career was long over and he was working homicide for the Oakland Police Department. When Mike wasn’t sure what to do with himself, Big Pete convinced him to become a homicide detective and fight the war against crime on the gang infested streets. The Oakland Police Department had rushed Mike through because
of his military training. They were desperate to stop the killing on the streets.
“Are you ready?” Big Pete asked in his smooth, deep voice from the passenger seat.
“Fuck yeah,” Mike replied emphatically with a scowl on his stubble covered face.
“Let’s do it,” Big Pete said as he opened the passenger door and pulled himself out of the car with the grace of a water buffalo.
As Mike crossed the street, he could see the yard of the two story, shingled house was cordoned off. There was a white minivan parked in the driveway, a couple of black and white squad cars, a crime scene SUV, a coroner’s van and a TV van parked in front of the house. A small crowd of people, including a news reporter and camera man, gathered outside of the tape hoping to get a look at the body as it was wheeled out. Uniformed officers were standing guard by the front steps to the house. Mike followed Big Pete under the tape and down the cement path to the front door.
“Which one of you guys found the body?” Big Pete asked.
“I found her,” the cop with dark hair and a thick mustache replied.
“What did you see?”
“Just an old woman strangled to death.”
Mike scanned the surroundings looking for anything or anyone suspicious. It was a bright, warm day and the elm leaves rustled in the breeze. Next door, a middle aged lady sat on her front porch steps in white shorts and a red tank top. Her gangly knees knocked together as she fidgeted with her hands. She wore a look of distress on her angular face. Maybe she was the one who found the victim?
Big Pete glanced at Mike. “Are you ready?”
“Let’s go,” Mike replied as he walked up the steps to the landing. The front door was open and Big Pete stopped and stood to the side as he looked at Mike with a wide, prideful grin.
“You go first,” Big Pete encouraged him.
Mike squinted at him with appreciation. Big Pete was letting him lead the investigation. Mike slapped him on the arm.
It was gloomy inside as Mike inspected the door and frame for any signs of forced entry. There was nothing there. He stepped into the front foyer. To his left, in the dining room, was a small table surrounded by five chairs that barely fit into the pale room. The chair at the head of the table was missing. To his right, the living room was shrouded in darkness. Mike heard rustling from around the wall. The flash of a camera flickered. Mike slowly approached.