King of Terror

17:03 Hours

As I watched the summer sun begin its descent, I wondered about the clueless, ignorant of what happened around them. The tourists, sun seekers, and those who wanted nothing more than to get drunk and have sex with whoever they could flood our precinct.

Maxine handled everything well as she sipped on coffee from 7-11.

She kept close behind me, never wanting to be left alone.

The radio crackled to life, transmitting the first sounds of commotion on the boardwalk. Later, the hotels would become eager as girls bared their chests, attracting crowds from the beaches. In no time, we would gear up and charge up the staircases of the filthiest hotels and rundown establishments the state government would allow.

But here, at Our Lady of Hope Asylum, wickedness consumed Maxine and me.

Surprisingly, I watched a Toyota Corolla 2015 stop amidst the RMPs and emergency vehicles. The elegant and statuesque Dr. Betty Morgan amazed me as I watched her step from the Toyota. Her figure was slim and tight, like a mature woman in her late sixties on some dating site, possessing an air of grace and confidence that demanded attention.

Every eye turned as she strode toward me with a tight skirt mid-thigh and a summer blouse with bare shoulders, tight enough to show her endowment.

Maxine, sensing her sexiness and attraction, moved to my side, taking my hand in hers and resting her head on my shoulder.

When Dr. Morton reached us, she smiled at Maxine, offered her hand to her, and looked her in the eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Maxine reciprocated with a handshake. "Your first brush with the demonic killers is often difficult to render as real in someone's mind. And make no mistake, Officer McMenamin, you've encountered not one but a legion."

Dr. Morton exuded an air of mystery as if she possessed hidden knowledge about the supernatural and demonic realms. Even though our piece of shit mayor had imposed her on the department, I had a nagging feeling that we would rely on her in the face of what was still to come.

"Corporal, do you mind if I asked you a question?" said Dr. Morton. I stared at her, unsure what she needed from me.

"Several weeks ago, you mentioned Hillary Durkin in your report. You said it was something about a demon. Melech Balahot?"

"Yep. The girls went to the Asylum and raised some demon or some shit over an Ouija Board. Why?"

"Do you know what Melech Balahot means?"

I had no interest and was unsure of the direction this was taking. The good doctor looked at me with her head tilted and squinted eyes. I must admit that she held my favor, at least at that moment. But I hesitated to hear her out. I nodded and spat into my Maxine-given spittoon.

"It's Hebrew for King of Terror," she said. "Are you religious, Corporal?"

"I grew up Catholic but can't stand the nonsense about the saints and the Virgin Mary."

"Agreed," she said. "Do you, by chance, read the bible?"

"No. I believe in Jesus as the Jewish Messiah, but that's about it."

Her smile was mesmerizing, but I wanted nothing to do with her. I leaned and kissed Maxine on her forehead and then her cheek. I refused to compromise anything that would lure me from the love of my life.

Sensing this, Dr. Morton smiled. "I don't mean to upset you, Corporal Kelly. You and Maxine will make a wonderful couple and will soon be married. Of that, I'm certain."

As I relaxed into Maxine's hug, I sighed. But Dr. Morton hadn't finished.

"When you get a chance, I want you to read Job chapter eighteen, verse fourteen. I only ask because those girls awakened something in that embalming room. And it hasn't finished its work here."

I smiled, agreed, and turned to face Max. But I didn't forget what she said.

When she walked away and headed into the bowels of the asylum, I opened my phone, swiped, and typed in the scripture. As everything was still unfamiliar, I came across the first translation and read it.

They shall root out his confidence from his tabernacle and bring him to Melech Balahot, the king of terrors.

"Oh, shit."