The Omen

by David Seltzer

Chapter Five

To keep his mind off reality, he began to speculate, retreating into his imagination to drive off immediate concerns. He thought about dreams, the possibility of one man's seeing another's. Brain activity was known to be electrical; so were the impulses that created images on television screens. Surely there was a way to carry one to the other. Imagine the therapeutic good it could do. The dreams could even be put on video tape so the dreamer could replay them in detail.

I hate it when an author writes about the supernatural and pulls up bullshit disguised as science. The story is great if you stick to the supernatural and leave science to those who deal with reality,

Surely there must be a way.

Uh..... no.

Thorn was preoccupied with the day that lay ahead. He was to make final arrangements for his trip to Saudi Arabia, but he had the feeling that he should not go. He was afraid. For Katherine, for Damien, and for himself; yet he didn't know why.

An intercom buzzed, and Thorn reached for it. "Yes?" "There's a Father Tassone here to see you," replied a secretary's voice. "Who?" "Father Tassone from Rome. He says it's a matter of urgent personal business." "I've never heard of him," replied Thorn. "He says he just needs a minute," responded the voice. "Something about a hospital." "Probably wants a donation," mumbled one of Thorn's aides. "Or a dedication," added the other. "All right," Thorn sighed. "Send him in."

The doors swung open, and in the massive archway stood a diminutive man. He was a priest; his robes were disheveled, his manner tense, his sense of urgency felt by all in the room. The aides exchanged an uneasy glance, uncertain whether it was safe to leave the room. "Would it … be all right …" asked the priest, in a thick Italian accent, "… to speak with you alone?" "It's about a hospital?" asked Thorn. "Si." After a moment, Thorn nodded, and his aides moved hesitantly from the room. When they were gone, the priest closed the doors behind them; then he turned, his expression filled with pain. "Yes?" Thorn asked apprehensively. "We have not much time." "What?" "You must listen to what I say." The priest refused to move, remaining with his back touching the door. "And what is that?" asked Thorn. "You must accept Christ as your Saviour. You must accept him now." And there passed a moment of silence, Thorn at a loss for words. "Please, signor …" "Excuse me," interrupted Thorn. "Did I understand you to have a matter of urgent personal business?" "You must take communion," the priest continued. "Drink the blood of Christ and eat his flesh, for only if He is within you can you defeat the child of the Devil."

"He's killed once," whispered the priest, "and he'll kill again. He'll kill until everything that's yours is his."

"I was at the hospital, Mr. Thorn," said the priest, "the night your son was born." Thorn was jolted. Riveted in place. "I … was a … midwife," the priest said in a faltering voice. "I … witnessed … the birth."

"What do you want?" "To save you, Mr. Thorn. So Christ will forgive me." "What do you know about my son?" "Everything." "What do you know?" demanded Thorn. The priest was trembling now, his voice thick with emotion. "I saw its mother," he replied. "You saw my wife?" "I saw its mother!" "You're referring to my wife?" "Its mother, Mr. Thorn!"

"Is this blackmail?" he asked quietly. "No, sir." "Then what do you want?" "To tell you, sir." "To tell me what?" · "Its mother: sir …" "Go on, what about her?" "Its mother, sir … was a jackal!" A sob escaped the priest's throat. "He was born of a jackal! I saw it myself!"

On the street outside the Embassy, Haber Jennings leaned up against a car, checking out his spare camera, having put the broken one away. His eye caught sight of the Marine escorting the priest down the front steps, and he snapped off a couple of shots of the two as the priest slowly shuffled away.

Then Jennings changed focus and found the small priest; he snapped off one more shot of him as he disappeared in the distance.

To make sure his spare camera was operating efficiently he had shot off a roll of thirty-six pictures at varying exposures and speeds, and three of them had turned out defective. It was the same sort of defect he'd had a few months ago in the shot of the nanny at the Thorn estate. This time it involved the shots of the priest. Once again it seemed to be a flaw on the emulsion, but this time it appeared more than once. It came twice in a row, then skipped two shots, then returned, exactly as before. Even more curious, it seemed linked to the subject, the strange blur of movement hanging above the priest's head as though it were somehow actually there.

As before it was a kind of a halo, but unlike the blemish that defaced the photo of the nanny, this one was oblong in shape, suspended well over the subject's head. The haze that enveloped the head of the nanny was inert, conveying a sense of peace, but the one above the priest's head was dynamic, as though in motion. It looked like a ghostlike javelin about to skewer the priest to the ground.

Anxiety was known to create energy, this the principle of the polygraph used for lie detector tests. That energy was electrical in nature. Electricity was also heat. Perhaps the heat generated by extreme anxiety burst through human flesh and could thus be photographed surrounding people in states of great stress.

Jesus fucking Christ! Get a goddman science consultant, will you?

The filters would cut out light, but possibly not heat, and he would have a better chance of finding what he was looking for.

Stop it, you jakwagon!

Katherine was spending more time with Damien, as she had promised, but it only served to accentuate their distance, the child whiling away the hours in silence, enduring the time rather than enjoying it, until Mrs. Baylock returned.

She bought coloring books and paint sets, building blocks and wheeled toys, but always they were met with the same dulled response. One afternoon he evidenced interest in an animal cut-out book, and it was then that she decided to take him to the zoo.

They pushed through to get a front-row vantage, but at that moment the swans suddenly became disinterested in feeding and majestically turned their tails, slowly paddling away, In mid-pond they stopped, gazing back like disdainful monarchs, the children pleading and throwing bread. But the swans would not return to feed, Katherine noticing that only after she and Damien left did their hunger appear to have once again returned.

As they neared the exhibit Katherine found that it too was surrounded by people, all gazing down into a pit. She pushed her way through but saw the animals for no more than an instant, for, in a sudden explosive movement, they all disappeared into their dens.

But as Katherine and Damien came near, the bear seemed to notice them. It stopped and glared, its back bristling as they slowly moved by. In the adjoining cage was a large cat, and it too ceased to move; its yellowed eyes riveted upon them, following them as they passed. Next was a baboon, which suddenly bared its teeth, clearly singling them out from the many others who passed.

Katherine began to sense the effect they were having on the animals, and she watched them carefully as she passed cage after cage. It was Damien they were watching. And he seemed to feel it too.

The monkeys were oblivious to their audience, but as Katherine and Damien came forward, the mood within the cage seemed to change. The playful activity stopped as, one by one, the animals began to turn, their small eyes darting nervously, searching the crowd. The crowd too fell silent, curious that the animals had stopped, but waiting with anticipatory smiles for the action to suddenly resume. When it did, it was in a way that no one expected. There was a sudden howl within the cage, a shriek of fear or warning, and as it rose, all the animals joined in. In a desperate surge, the cage exploded with movement, the monkeys bounding frantically about their cage, trying to get out. Cramming toward the rear of the cage, they strained to break the wire-mesh window; panicked, as though a predator had suddenly been let loose in their midst In their frenzy, they clawed at one another, blood beginning to flow as their paws and teeth sought desperately for escape. The crowd stood silent, aghast, but Damien was laughing, pointing at the horrifying scene and squealing with delight. Within the cage, the panic rose, a large monkey propelling himself upward through a wire-mesh ceiling, caught there by the neck, his body jerking until it went limp. People cried out in horror, some heading for the doors, but their cries were drowned out by the wail of the animals, wild-eyed and salivating now, propelled by sheer terror as they bounded from wall to wall. One among them began hurling its body ...

Her child was laughing. Pointing and laughing, as though somehow promoting the suicidal din. It was he they were frightened of. He who was doing it. And as the holocaust increased, Katherine began to scream.

Chapter Six

When darkness came, Damien indicated he was hungry, but his mother refused to respond, and he crawled into the back seat, where he found a blanket and fell asleep.

"Damien all right?" asked Thorn. "Yes." "Are you sure?" "Yes."

"Kathy …" said Thorn gently. "What is it?" "I think …" she replied, straggling to control her voice, "… I want to see a doctor." She raised her eyes, and they were filled with pain. "I have …'fears,'" she said. "Fears that a normal person wouldn't have."

It was with some difficulty that Thorn found a psychiatrist he felt he could trust. He was American, younger than Thorn would have preferred, but well recommended, with a broad range of experience.

and Thorn knew the Arab-Israeli hostilities were historical in nature, deeply rooted in the scriptures. For this reason he looked to the Bible, not one but three, seeking to amplify his understanding with the wisdom of the ages. In truth, there was a more practical reason, for there was not an audience in the world that failed to be impressed with quotations from the scriptures.

It was the first time Thorn had cracked the pages of a Bible since he was a child. He found it fascinating, particularly in the light of the ceaseless violence in the Middle East. He discovered it was the Jew Abraham who was first promised by God that his people would inherit the Holy Land.

The country given by God to the Jews was clearly delineated in the Books of Genesis and Joshua as the land extending from the River of Egypt to Lebanon and the Euphrates. Thorn looked at his atlas and found that the State of Israel presently occupied only the narrow strip between Jordan and the Mediterranean. Just a small piece of what God had apparently promised.

You will be trampled under foot until the time of the Nations be fulfilled. This clearly prophesied that the Jews would be persecuted throughout history, and then the persecution would stop. But what was the time of the Nations? The time when the persecution would end?

It was an historical log of persecution that began with the Jews being driven from Israel by King Solomon, then slaughtered by the Crusaders as they fled. In the year 1000 it had been documented that twelve thousand Jews were murdered, then in the year 1200 all who had sought refuge in England were expelled or hanged. In the year 1298 one hundred thousand Jews were slaughtered in Franconia, Bavaria, and Austria; in September, 1306, another one hundred thousand were expelled from France under threat of death. In 1348 the Jews were accused of having caused a worldwide epidemic of Black Plague, and more than a million of them were sought out and killed across the globe. In August, 1492, the very time that Columbus was gaining glory for his country by discovering the New World, the Spanish Inquisition drove out half a million Jews and put another half million to death. The grim log continued, to the time of Hitler who annihilated over six million Jews, leaving only eleven million, homeless and poverty-stricken, across the entire face of the globe.

Thorn turned again to his interpretive texts and found that in God's promise to Abraham were three separate and equally important factors. The gift of a country, Israel. The assurance that Abraham and his descendants would become a great nation. And finally, above all, the "blessing"; the coming of the Saviour. The Jews' return to Zion was linked to the second coming of Christ, and if that were true, the time was now at hand.

It was the return of Christ that sparked his imagination, and he sought out pertinent passages of text.

He found it immensely complicated, for it was prophesied in the Book of Revelations that when Christ returned to earth he would have to face his antithesis.

The Anti-Christ. The So...

And the earth would be swept asunder by the final contest between Heaven and Hell. It would be Armageddon. The A...

As he felt his way down the darkened hall, he passed Mrs. Baylock's room, noticing the door slightly ajar. The massive woman was asleep on her back; a mountain of flesh spotlighted by the moonlight flooding in through her window. Thorn was about to continue but was suddenly halted, shocked by the woman's face. It was powdered a ghastly white. She was wearing lipstick, too, garishly applied, as though put on in a state of drunken stupor. It was a chilling sight and he felt weakened by it, struggling to sort it out. It made no sense. In the privacy of her room, the woman had painted herself like a harlot.

When the Jews returned to Zion, Christ was again to be born. And as Christ would be born; so would the Anti-Christ, both growing separately until their final confrontation.

It was prophesied that Armageddon, the final battle, would take place in the arena of the Israelites, with Jesus standing on one side, on the Mount of Olives, the Anti-Christ on the other.

Were they all just pawns for the mightier forces of Good and Evil? Were they puppets being manipulated from above and below? Could there really be a Heaven? Could there really be a Hell?

He was helpless. They were all helpless. They didn't ask to be born and they didn't ask to die. They were made to. But why, in between, did there have to be such pain? Perhaps humankind was more amusing that way. Perhaps they provided entertainment

But the wind pushed him on all sides, holding him in place. As it bore down, he could see the driver's face. It had no features, yet it emitted a laugh, the flesh ripping open where a mouth should have been, spewing blood, as the car came bearing down.

At the moment of contact, Thorn awakened. He was gasping for breath and bathed in sweat. Slowly the dream left him and he lay immobile. It was early morning, and the house was quiet He fought the urge to weep.

Chapter Seven

On the stage, Thorn remained calm, but as the lights came up full, his manner suddenly changed. His eyes were not on the boy, but on another figure, hidden in the shadows some distance behind him. It was the figure of a priest, small in stature, a hat clutched tensely in his hand. It was Tassone. Even though Thorn could not see his features, he knew it was he, and it rendered him immobile.

The timer went off and Jennings moved into the darkroom, using tongs to lift his proof sheets from the acid baths. What he saw brought jubilation, and he howled with joy. Turning on a bright light and slipping the sheet under a magnifying stand, he scrutinized the photos, shaking his head with delight. It was the series of shots taken of the back of the hall. Though not a single face or body could be made out in the darkness, there bung the javelin-like appendage, standing out like a puff of gray smoke.

Jennings slipped the enlargement under his magnifying stand and studied it in great detail. Beneath it he saw the hem of priestly robes.