Rewind time, I thought.As I played the scene back to where we were all standing immediately before sitting precisely where Charles dictated, a shocking thing happened. It was completely unexpected, by me at any rate.All but one of the other players acted normally, if you call acting out actions in reverse, normal. The exception was Clinton, who sat in his seat staring at me, his eyebrows lifted and a look of amazement on his face, which was mirrored on my own face. At the point where all were standing, except the pair of us, I got up quickly, grabbed Terry and sat us down where Bubble Buttocks and I had warmed the chairs earlier (or is that “later”?)I looked defiantly at Clinton, who grinned back at me and said, “Nice one, Bob”, in his American accent, and shuffled round to sit the other side of Terry.Charles and Gwendoline were a little confused, as was Terry, who tried to get up after sitting and before Clinton reseated himself.That was when I smelled the rat, the seating. Four men, including the priest, and two women, all were shriveled and white as snow, completely bled dry.The mayor couldn’t stop himself, he turned and vomited onto the floor, adding yet another puddle to the collection the police had already made. The sheriff and two other cops were in the room, empathizing with the mayor’s reaction. They had all witnessed death before, it came with the territory, it came with the lifestyle. But horror like this was unheard of.“What happened?” the mayor asked.The sheriff walked over to him, gray hair and heavyset, but a lifelong friend and reliable protector of the town. “We don’t know. I heard the priest was performing an exorcism. If there really was a demon in Jim, I can only think that maybe it caused all this.” He picked up the discarded fire poker, its tip erased as if melted with acid. The muscles in his hand writhed as a chill seeped into his stomach. The threat was gone, but his instincts were still screaming for him to have his gun in his.
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