Read Online The Demon Senders by T Patrick Phelps - Free Book Online Page B

you before you get close enough to hit him, throw the rock as hard as you can at him, then charge him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t let him say a word to you. When he sees you, he’ll know who you are and what you’re there to do.
    “If you let him talk to you, he’ll twist your mind up so fast he’ll have the jump on you and you won’t have a clue what happened till you wake up in Hell.”
    I looked at Rachel, who was still glaring ahead, though now she was only looking at trees. I reached over, and pulled her face towards mine. “You have to tell me this isn’t some fucking joke and that, whomever it is you’re saying I’m going to see at the pond, is really a demon and not some innocent guy trying to catch a few fish for his dinner. Tell me!”  
    “Trevor,” she said, a sudden compassion flooding over her face, “this is real. It’s not a joke and the guy you’re about to confront is dangerous. He is a demon, do you understand that? A demon that, if it senses any doubts in you or sees you hesitate, will kill you. You have to do this. You’re a sender. This is your destiny.”
    I opened the car door then shut it as quietly as I could. I didn’t look back at Rachel as I started walking towards the pond. As I walked, my heart thumping so hard I was convinced its beating was loud enough to reveal my position, I searched the ground for a good sized rock. Finding one, I picked it up and held it firmly in my right hand.
    I was sweating like I was twenty miles deep into a marathon that I hadn’t trained for. My head was pounding and I could feel my heart pumping in every joint of my body. “This is happening,” I thought to myself.
    I walked up another fifty yards or so till I could see the pond. I slowed my pace, making sure my steps were quiet and would not reveal my approach. I moved closer, keeping my body low and making sure to keep some cover between me and the pond. My breathing turned staccato and my jaw began to quiver.
    Ten more feet and then I saw him.
    I crouched down behind a bush, wishing it still held its leaves, and just watched him for a few minutes.
    He was older, I’d say maybe in his mid-sixties but couldn’t be sure. He was sitting on the ground, most of his legs in the dirty looking pond. I imagined that if my visit was during the summer months, the pond’s water would be green with algae. Though the one acre pond was, as it should have been, frozen over solid, the area around where this old man was sitting wasn’t frozen over at all. Either the man had broken through the ice (which was certainly very thin where he was sitting, being so close to the shore) or something else was at work. Something I wasn’t ready to explain quite yet.
    The thawed out area formed a near perfect half circle around him, stretching out no more than four or five feet from him. His body was swaying rhythmically from side to side. Slowly as if he was listening to an old slow jazz tune. His arms hung slack by his side, his fingers, curled back in on themselves, dangled in the dark, frigid water. I didn’t believe that I recognized him, though I still hadn’t seen a clear view of his face. I needed to be sure. I needed, at least some part of me needed, to know my whole “prank” idea was nothing more than wishful thinking. I needed to see this man’s face before I could even think about doing what Rachel told me I needed to do.
    Now, you know where you found me and the position I’m in. I’m sure you’d agree I’m not in a good spot by any stretch of the imagination. And since you’re standing here listening to me, you’re probably not all that thrilled with your situation, either. I don’t know your story and how you ended up here beside me, but I do want to tell you how I ended up here. It was the result of three mistakes I made. I’ll tell you about the last two of those mistakes later, but first, I need to tell you about my first mistake.
    Once I decided I needed to see that man’s face