The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 10

With one mighty thrust of the hips Jeremiah exploded inside his condom before having his white, female partner hurriedly slip out from underneath him without letting him get his last jerks in. The man could hardly catch his breath before he plunged his sweaty body down onto the bed. He was still shaking from head to toe while feeling the after effects of his 'surge.'

He happened to look over to see his partner behave as though nothing had taken place over the course of the past fifteen minutes. She was steadily puffing away on a cigarette while sitting perfectly naked and thin on the edge of the bed.

Coming down, Jeremiah pulled his condom off before sitting up on his side of the bed. For the longest of times there settled a lingering quiet between the two inside the compact motel room in which they found themselves inside. Jeremiah listened to the woman cough in between puffs as though it were her first time smoking at all.

"I sure hope this place has better hot water than the last motel we went to." The lady got up from off the bed and ventured into the nearby bathroom.

Appearing fairly surprised, Jeremiah asked, "You're heading out?"

The sound of water from the faucet could be heard. "Yep," she replied. "Gotta get back out there!"

"I see." The air in Jeremiah's lungs evaporated. "I was kinda thinking perhaps we could stop by The Clover and grab a bite to eat."

Cleansing herself at the sink, the lady replied, "You gotta understand, I'm still making up for a lackluster summer after those stupid animal attacks and the curfew. It put a hamper on my business."

"Speaking of animal attacks," Jeremiah suddenly jumped up and went over to the desk that was placed in front of the one window inside the room. "I meant to ask you about that." He said as he picked up

one of the five books that were just lying on the desk.

"Ask me about what?"

Carrying his naked body back over to the bed, Jeremiah sat down and queried, "Do you think that it's possible for a person to...I don't know, change?"

"How do you mean?" The lady kept on with her business.

"You know, change into something else?" He eagerly remarked. "If you really sit down and think about it, the attacks I mean, doesn't it seem odd that these things just show up out of nowhere and then just vanish? I mean, who's to say that their not still in this city, waiting for their next chance to strike? All these books that I got from the library seem to have one common denominator; they all say that werew —

"Look, kid," the lady came out of the bathroom still naked, "you're a real nice guy. You're actually the nicest John I've probably ever had." She said as she began picking up one article of clothing after another from off the floor and putting them on her body. "But to be perfectly honest, I'm 48 years old. I'm putting myself through school to get a degree so I can better myself. I hate to be so blunt, but, I really didn't sign up for this job to make friends or have discussions."

Jeremiah was still in the thralls of catching the breath that had eluded him moments ago. The lady's direct approach cut right through him like the dullest knife, shredding every nerve possible. One by one, her bra, panties, jeans, blouse and high-heeled boots were all put on in such a rush that it seemed as if she wasn't there at all to begin with. Jeremiah himself was still completely naked.

Walking around to his side of the bed, the lady asked, "Hey, don't you have a place of your own?"

Coming back, Jeremiah replied, "Uh, yeah, I've got a pad."

"Good, because we may have to meet up there next time," she sighed. "The fuzz around these parts is getting too heavy. I need this gig at least until January."

"Yeah, sure, we can meet up at my place." Jeremiah hesitantly mumbled.

The lady stood above the young man and stared a pitiful frown down at him. "Look, I can tell that you're a real lonely guy. If it makes you feel any better, the next blowjob is on the house."

Jeremiah's eyes couldn't connect with hers, he just kept his head down to his book, not reading the words, but rather trying not to make eye contact.

"You're a real cute kid." She shrugged her shoulders. "I can't imagine why you're having such a hard time finding a nice girl. Heck, if you need to, go see a shrink. Maybe he can figure you out." She said before turning and swiping a handful of dollar bills from off the dresser and gracefully flying out the door. "Call me!" She blurted out as she shut the door behind her.

Jeremiah continued to sulk on the bed. "I may not have any money next time." He whispered to himself in such a low tone that the words sounded non-existent.

As soon as the wave of cool air from outside the door vanished within the room Jeremiah's eyes managed to find themselves focusing back on the book that was lying on his bare lap.

"I recall the x-rays." He mindlessly murmured. "The bone structure appeared re-configured. I wonder if bones can be stretched or twisted."

The man kept on reciting past memories while reading each page as though multi-tasking was just a mere detail. His eyes kept racing through each and every paragraph with lightning ferocity, not missing even a comma or question mark. When he had finished a particular chapter, Jeremiah reached in and pulled out a collection of papers that just happened to be buried in the back of the book. Written all over

the pages were notes from front to back. A lot of the notes were gibberish, chicken scratch, while the rest was of the utmost importance, from his time with Isaac Mercer, all the way to his ordeal in the rainy pasture over the past summer. Jeremiah sat up and reached for his pen that was lying on the desk next to the rest of the books before sitting back down and doodling. RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

"Is it possible that these supernatural beings can bring about other supernatural manifestations or occurrences? Perhaps a paranormal exhibition," he asked himself while writing. "Is it possible that Isaac, as well, was suffering from this malady? And if so, is it possible that I am...next?"

Suddenly, Jeremiah stopped writing and gasped. The motel room was absolutely silent. His eyes then managed to glance over at the closet door which was closed.

"Henei ma tov umanaim shevet achim gam yachad. Hinei ma tov umanaim Shevet achim gam yachad."

With eyes locked solely on the closet, Jeremiah continued to sing verse after verse of the old Hebrew folk song without once taking his jittering eyes off of the closet.