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Face sweaty and lungs gasping, Carlos raced through the front door of his home and began fumbling for the phone book. His heart pounded like the beat of a bass drum. He placed his hand on his chest and took a slow, deep breath while quickly thumbing through the yellow pages, looking for someone who could help him drive the evil out of the resort.
He didn't know how to spell "clairvoyant," but he got lucky and found the listing anyway. He hurriedly called three people, telling them his unbelievable tale, but none of them could help him. One suggested he call a priest, and another told him to see a psychiatrist as he was mentally ill. The third told him to try calling a woman who lived along the bayou. She gave him a telephone number.
He thanked her and hung up. He dialed the phone number she'd given him and hoped the person who would answer this call would have the answers he so desperately needed.
"Come on, lady! Answer the goddamn phone," he grumbled to himself. "Seven rings!....eight....Shit! Please be home!"
Expelling a sigh of frustration, he went on counting the rings. "Twelve.....thirteen....fourteen. That's it! I'm through with you, bitch!" he growled disgustedly when all at once a voice came through the receiver.
"Hello?" A woman's voice came through the line.
"Y-You gotta help me!" Carlos almost screamed through the phone. "Whatever you do, don't hang up!----I ain't crazy! I've gotta find someone who can help me before it's too late! I....I gotta save an unborn child's life!"
"Please, calm down," the woman's voice on the other end of the line urged Carlos, her tone carrying both authority and reassurance. "I'm not going to hang up, and I won't dismiss you as a lunatic. Take a deep breath and tell me the full story."
Listening to her crackling voice, he pictured her as an old, wrinkled lady, probably 90 or older, with white hair. She admonished him to remain silent until she finished speaking and started reciting words in a language that he could not understand. When she finished uttering the strange words, she turned her attention back to him and spoke in English.
"Okay. Your turn! They can't stop you from talking to me now."
Carlos tried to tell her his story, but, as he did, loud hissing sounds, mixed with static came through the phone line, irritating his ear. "Do you hear that?" he asked. "Do you hear those sounds?"
"It's not important," she replied. "I told you they can't stop you from speaking to me."
"Who are 'they'?" Carlos wanted to know, but deep down inside him he already knew the answer.
"You know who I'm talking about," the woman stated quite frankly. "Now tell me what it is you need me to do."
In a matter of minutes, he had told her almost everything that had happened. As he finished speaking, she told him to find a vase, but not just an ordinary vase, she said it had to have the Devil's face on it.
Tears welled up in Carlos's eyes when she spoke of the Devil's vase. This was indeed the person Adelaide had talked about. He knew he had found help at last.
"Bring me the vase, and I'll help you," she said. "You don't have much time. That evil in there has grown for many years. It has developed like a baby in its mother's womb and now it's ready to be born. It's able to leave the building now. That's why some force took control of your car, almost killing you. It will not be contained much longer. The dark side will lure your friend there tonight. He'll be killed this very evening if that force isn't stopped. You must find the vase."
"I've got it!" Carlos interrupted in a shout, his voice like that of someone who had jumped out in the street and roared for a taxi. "Adelaide, the ghost, gave it to me. Can I come over to your house right now?"
"No! You'll never find the place," she replied. "Meet me on the bank of Buffalo Bayou where it meets the River-With-No-Name at midnight. Bring a bottle of Holy Water and that vase. I'll be waiting for you."
Just then the phone went dead, causing Carlos to cry out, "No! Don't hang up! Where are you talking about? I don't know any River-With-No-Name! Shit! " She hung up.
He quickly dialed the woman's phone number again, but to his surprise, he got a recording.
"I'm sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service."
A sudden, almost instant state of fear and confusion took hold of Carlos's thoughts as he stared helplessly at the black telephone. He felt everything go quiet inside him. He was like a helpless child who had stumbled onto something that he could not understand.
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