The Unexpected Exorcist: Episode 27

Beelzebub Incognito

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New episodes every Tuesday and Thursday at 3 PM PDT!!

- Adam Lutzi Rockwell

Recap

Last week on The Unexpected Exorcist: Uziel Axe and Sister Catherine were investigating a lighthouse off the Oregon Coast. It was infested with a demon putting out a demon-call. They needed to stop it, but first, they needed to sleep.

After falling asleep they found themselves in Purgatory. They weren’t quite sure why. While there, they located Rabbi Adam Green who had earlier disappeared after being pulled down a Hellhole in rural Virginia.

After escaping Purgatory, Sister Catherine discovered Uziel had been toting around a demonic token: A Summoning Stone. She destroyed it and Rabbi Green was back in the land of the living.

Today we are on the side of Interstate 64 in rural Virginia

Rural Virginia - Interstate 64

Father Andersen’s soul was pushed deep into the recesses of his mind. Lost somewhere. He couldn't think normally and experienced nothingness. He had become a passive passenger in his own body. Just a flickering consciousness. He couldn’t fight Beelzebub. The demon had control.

Father Andersen was scheduled for a pick-up and delivery the next morning. He had been planning on leaving directly from the orchard. He remembered that, but not much else.

Had Beelzebub entered his memories? If that were the case, things were about to go from bad to worse, not that he could do anything about it.

And what was in that bag?

Demons could read the thoughts of the possessed. It is common knowledge amongst exorcists, but usually had little bearing on a demon’s work on the Earth-Plane. The work of creating chaos and turning the innocents to evil is usually the demonic mission.

Usually.

Beelzebub walked along Interstate 64 in the form of Father Andersen. Backwoods of Virginia. He carried a large black Patagonia duffel bag.

His takeover of Father Andersen was complete. He had the information he needed as well as the body he needed to accomplish his goals. Kallikantzaros had done well.

The familiars at the Larrabee Farm came together much nicer than he could have hoped for after the damned Uziel Axe seemingly foiled things.

His plan was coming together even better than he envisioned.

Beelzebub had moved over twenty miles in just over an hour. He used beast-form, of which he was most fond. Forcing Father Andersen to run like a dog with the duffel in his mouth. It made him giddy. The indignity was wonderful.

It was becoming difficult to carry the bag and he needed to get to the appointed place in Lexington, Kentucky. Sooner than later, so he stood.

The station in Lexington wasn’t just any DED facility. It provided services for the DED that had allowed them to attack his Legion.

For their crimes against his kind, all of them would pay.

But first, Beelzebub needed a ride. He couldn’t run in beast-form the entire way. It would take too long and kill the priest’s body. He needed to hitch.

The body of the priest could be a hindrance. People were often suspicious of the clergy.

He studied the timepiece on the man’s wrist. Nearly midnight. The only real traffic on the Interstate at that time on that desolate stretch of Virginia blacktop were semi-trucks. Most of them on a deadline.

A truck appeared out of the darkness, from behind Beelzebub. As it neared, Beelzebub stuck his hand out. The big red Peterbilt just sounded its horn and blew by him at seventy miles per hour.

Humans and their selfishness and stupidity. They were the animals. Most of them only communicated with their ape-mouths. Not their minds.

He was superior to the humans.

Legion was superior.

Five more trucks passed him without even a hint at slowing. He hissed at the last one that passed him, for all the good it did.

At one AM, an old flat-front white Kenworth hauling a load of liquid fertilizer beeped his horn at him. It was already slowing and pulled to the side for the hitching “priest.”

Beelzebub hurried to the passenger side. An old man with a white handlebar mustache and plaid red shirt swung the door open from the inside.

“I know whatcha’ are, but that’s okay. Get in,” he yelled over the engine.

What did this trucking man know? How could he know? Impossible. Another Seer? The chances were infinitesimal.

Beelzebub climbed up into the cab on guard. He was curious how things would play out. Even if it meant the death of his host. Curiosity was his nature.

“Where shall I set my bag?” he asked the trucker.

“Just throw it in the back with Sally.”

Beelzebub wondered who Sally was.

Sally was a hound dog, on alert, in the back sleeper.

As soon as Beelzebub was in the truck, the hound dog was awake and sniffing at him.

He set the bag carefully next to the dog.

A deep low growl came from the dog. It knew what he was. Smart dogs often knew. Cats ALWAYS knew. Beelzebub avoided both when possible.

“You hush down, Sally girl!” the man yelled. “Dang dog, I sure am sorry about that, Father.”

Beelzebub turned his head to the back of the cab and made direct eye contact with the dog and held it. The dog backed away, whimpering. He held eye contact until the dog put its paws over its eyes and stopped making sounds.

“I thank you for your kindness on this cold night, trucker,” said Beelzebub in his best English.

“I said I know’d what you are, but I don’t suppose anybody should be left to die in the winter on the side of Interstate Sixty-Four.”

“You do not care for men of the cloth?” Beelzebub asked. He seriously considered killing the trucker on the spot. Nobody would get in the way of his mission.

“We’re all God’s creatures, I suppose. Even you. Where ya’ headed?”

“Lexington. Kentucky. Can you take me to Lexington? Kentucky?”

“Ain’t nothing there but a bunch of Methodists and hillbillies. I myself am from Nashville. That’s a real city. My name is Tom Harsford. I’d shake your hand but I’m afraid ya’ might infect me,” he said, laughing.

So, this Tom Harsford did not know what he was.

A brief rush of what humans called relief washed over him. His plans were still intact. Plus, he didn’t know if he could drive a semi truck.

“It’s about six hours or so to Lexington. What’s your name?” Tom picked up a soda cup and spit some chew into it.

“I am… Father Johann Andersen. I am from Sweden.”

“Well, Father Andersen from Sweden, it’s good to meetcha’. I myself, I’m an independent. Owner-operator. I haul anything. Right now it’s liquid manure as you can most likely smell. Nasty stuff but those people pay good and on time. I like to have my money in hand after the job’s done if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Mr. Harsford, I know exactly what you mean.”

“You call me Tom.”

“Yes, Tom.”

The truck rumbled down the highway.

“So, tell me, Father. What the hell you doing out here on the road in the middle of the night, pardon my French? I don’t usually ask, but you’re a special case. You get run out of town for doing God know what I suppose? The folks in the rurals don’t take kindly to pederasts.”

“NO! I am not a pederast! I am…” his voice became high, but he calmed himself. He needed this man to make it to the rendezvous point. “I had a vehicle, but it is most likely broken. Yes. Broke down. That is it. The vehicle broke down…. And I must get to my new congregation in Lexington.”

“I see. Well, you Catholics always have flummoxed me. Why do you always throw up such a fuss with all the pomp and circumstances? It don’t matter none. Sit back and I’ll getcha’ where ya goin’. Don’t you have a cell? I’d let you use mine to call your people but I ain’t got one neither. No sir. Never will. I know all the roads around these parts and don’t need no Google tellin’ me which way to go…”

And on and on Tom Harsford rambled. Probably on something stronger than a cup of Starbucks.

The trucker didn’t stop talking the entire ride. Information about trucking and his “grand babies” as he called them. And Walmart and Piggly Wiggly and fertilizer.

It worked in Beelzebub’s favor. He didn’t need to make idle chit chat. Something he was not good at.

After six hours of talking, Beelzebub could take no more, but luckily for Tom Harsdorf, they were at his exit. He wanted to destroy the trucker and drag his soul to Hell, but he had other business.

“Tom Harsford, please drop me two blocks off the next exit.”

“That’s in the middle of nowhere. No church around for miles. Just some industrial buildings in that part of Lexington.”

“That is where I am going.”

“I won’t stop ya’. Getcha’ there in a moment’s time.”

Tom signaled and pulled off at the exit. The sun was just beginning to rise in the morning behind the barren trees. Beelzebub hated the sun. He operated at night and was a much more efficient corrupter of souls when the sky was dark.

“Here,” said the demon. “I will get out of the truck here.” It was in the front of an armored car depot.

“Here? You sure about that, Father?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Tom slammed on the brake and pulled to the side of the road. Beelzebub immediately had the door open and the bag over his shoulder.

He was about to leave when Tom yelled down to him. “Father, I have something to give you,” and he pulled out a card and held it in front of Beelzebub who was already standing on the sidewalk. “I know I said I knew what you are but that’s not really true. I know what you really are, you catch my meaning?”

“I do not,” said Beelzebub, once again considering lunging into the truck and breaking Tom’s neck. But he let him speak. He was curious.

Humans always amazed him. “What am I, Tom Harsford. Please enlighten me?”

“You, Father Andersen, are a sinner. I know, I know, I’m not supposed to call no priest a sinner. Judge not lest ye be judged and all that, but my faith says you’re a sinner. I’m just being straight with you. This card has my home number on it. We need to get you to a real church and have you baptized and put on the straight path to heaven. When you are ready, you just call me. Anytime, day or night. If I’m not at home you leave a message on my machine. We’ll getcha’ straight with Jesus.”

Beelzebub laughed heartily and took the card. “Yes, Tom, yes, I will call you so I can go to heaven. I will put that at the top of my, how do you say, to-do list. You can most definitely expect a visit from me in the near future.” He would let the man live, for now. He laughed some more.

“Don’t need to go getting all sarcastic. But my offer still stands if you ever feel the spirit move you.”

Beelzebub was already walking towards the entrance of the armored car depot. He waved at Tom and yelled, “Thank you, oh savior of souls!”

Tom blew his horn.

As soon as the truck was a distance away, Sally began howling madly. As the truck drove away, the sound of the howling hound reverberated through the morning.

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New episodes every Tuesday and Thursday at 3 PM PDT!!