they were on the country road, Ben picked up the speed a little. A few minutes later they arrived in Prisco.
Just as they passed the doctor’s house, the front door flew open violently and Hank stumbled down the steps; his hair in wild disarray and his face all red. Ben hit the brakes, stopped the car and jumped out. Julie flung her door open to and ran after her husband in Hanky’s direction. Almost at the same instant, the front door of the practice was pushed open a second time and Doctor Ness rushed out of the house - his coat trailing behind him like the sails of a ship, his hair in complete disarray. He stopped briefly, watched Hanky run away and spotted the Johansson rushing in Hanky’s direction.
“Grab him,” the doctor pleaded although they were clearly already in the process of making every attempt to do just that. He was now also in pursuit of the fleeing young man. Next, the nurse appeared on the steps holding a syringe in her hand, ready to spring to action. In the interim, the Johansson had caught up with Hanky and tried to block the way. They tried to calm him with kind words. Doctor Ness snuck up on Hanky from the back and the nurse followed right behind him. Once the doctor was close enough to grab Hanky, he jumped him from the back, swung his arms around the young man’s neck and pulled him to the ground. At least, that had been his plan, but Hanky had enough strength to pick him up like a puppet and carry him on his back. In fact, Hanky did not even seem to realize he was there. Now Ben grabbed Hanky head-on and the two older men tried to force the younger one to the ground. At this very moment, an old Honda pickup pulled into Main Street out of one of the cross streets.
The thing that had once been Walt Kessler was joyriding in Walt’s truck to its heart’s content. After all, he had to get his sense of sense of direction back. Not a lot seemed to have changed since he had last been awake, but the thing wanted to make sure. It had no trouble driving the car because it had complete and unrestricted access to all required information - it could be gleaned from the memories of its victim. It did not take long for it to arrive in the vicinity of the small community of Prisco.
The creature became restless. It once again sense this peculiar presence it had felt confronted with in the forest shortly after it had been aroused from its sleep. The fury returned. The thing steered the truck in the direction of the spiritual vibrancy. It allowed the car to roll around slowly and looked around in search of the source.
As the thing merged into Main Street, it saw a usual scene unravel right before its eyes. A man was carrying two other guys - one in the back and one in the front while two women were talking to the threesome incessantly. The man in the center was the one radiating the presence. The thing would have loved to attack the man immediately, but it knew that too many witnesses were around. It had to proceed with caution.
At the very instant the creature started to watch the struggle and its pickup almost came to a complete stop, the tall man in the middle suddenly stopped moving. It turned to him, although an adult male was hanging from his neck. The young man looked the creature right in the eye. It was a cold and forceful glare that made the creature shudder. The thing had never exposed to a stare quite like this one. It was a look that conveyed an inherent threat, which caused the creature to fear for its life. This had never happened to the creature before. It had never been scared, but it now felt an immense fear just because of this one look. This thing put its foot against the gas pedal and disappeared around the next curve, tires squealing.
CHAPTER 7
Deep in the night, Hanky was rousted from his sleep. However, he did not simply wake up - he awoke in two different ways. Something had ripped apart a curtain that had shrouded his mind. The old Hanky was gone. Nothing was like it had been before. His silly, childish thoughts had disappeared and along with them the panic that had stricken him.
His parents had not made it to Doctor Ness’ practice until the early hours of the evening. During the day, they had been running errands and it was not until their neighbors told them that they learned about their son’s whereabouts. Hanky was still in too much of a fog when they picked him up. The injection the nurse had given him as he stood stiff on the sidewalk watching the evil creature leave the scene was still working.
Now he was wide awake and in deep thought. It was the first time in his life that he was able to truly think. He did not even have time to contemplate the change that had occurred, he was much too busy thinking about the most effective way to get out of the doctor’s treatment room quickly. Initially, he thought it might be a good idea to simply talk to the doctor man to man. But he quickly dismissed this approach, because he knew that if the doctor detected the change in him, he would want to know why Hanky had suddenly changed. So that was not a solution. He had to continue to act out his role as Hanky, the idiot - at least for the time being. He would simply lie here for a while longer and then call for Doctor Ness. He would pretend that he had to go to the bathroom and behave really mild mannered. Next, he would start to whine and ask to be sent home to his mom. Yes, that would definitely work. Nonetheless, he would have to convince them that he was back to normal. Once he had escaped from here, he could begin his pursuit of the monster. Yes, he was the one who could defeat the creature. He knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt. He was no longer Hanky, the village idiot. No, he would be Hanky - the hunter - from now on.
The thing had fled the scene aimlessly as if driven by an increasing sense of panic. At times he was not even aware of his surroundings. At some point, as dusk fell upon the land and night drew closer, the thing stopped near a small forest.
“What happened?”
This question tortured the creature’s brain incessantly. He thought about it and thought about it but he was not sure what it was that was so different now. It could not fathom that an opponent had suddenly appeared on the horizon after centuries of complete power. An opponent who could not be conquered.
It had made an attempt at it when the two men hung on the younger man with the strong presence. No, actually, the creature had only stretched its tentacles to check how hard it would be to conquer this man. Yet it had been cast off with such a violent force that it had instantly been taken over by a panic. In an exaggerated haste it had fled. Now it sat in Walt Kessler’s body and was clueless as to what it should do next.
A gas station and adjacent diner were located at the other end of the forest on a hill just off the Interstate. At this hour - it was almost midnight - only a few patrons still lingered in the diner. Lora Malone, who was working the late shift today, cleared the final few tables. Three truckers were still sitting at the counter drinking coffee. They were waiting for their boss, Mike Clark, the owner of a freight forwarding company.
Tonight he planned to ride along on the haul. Every now and then, he joined his truckers to make sure they could actually deliver their loads on time. It gave him the opportunity to talk to his customers and find out what they needed. Sometimes he’d also have to listen to their complaints. The operators were not too happy about it, but Mike had the skill to turn the long rides into something akin to motivational seminars for them. It never took very long and they’d confide in him, tell him about their families, worries and concerns. This evening, the men were restlessly sliding around on their bar stools. They simply could not get the conversation going for some reason. The boss was really tardy tonight, and that wasn’t something they were accustomed. Mike Clark was always on time.
“Maybe the boss man decided not to go after all,” Pete, who sat in the middle and usually controlled their conversations, suggested. The other two simply grunted and stared into their coffee cups. Lora was just carrying a bunch of dirty dishes into the kitchen when she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.
“That’s probably your big chief,,” she called out to the group as she disappeared through the swinging kitchen door.
The car came to a sudden stop in the parking lot, the gravel crunching under the weight of tires. The driver’s door was flung shut and steps approached the entrance. The men turned around. However, it was not Mike Clark at all. Instead Jack Weiser, the local sheriff’s deputy, entered the diner. He surveyed the room quickly and walked straight over to the truckers. He took off his hat and brushed the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Hey guys,” he greeted them, “I have to talk to