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The Custodian

Supernatural Horror thriller, The Custodian.
By Tony Arthur

Some time later the driver returned with Police Chief Jones, who was flanked by Mayor Meridian, and Deputy Chief Bell. The president opened the door.

“Get in!” President Grasser ordered.

The three men quickly got in and sat staring at each other with varying shades of emotional duress.

“Gentleman, we have a situation here! I have to figure out where we go from here, and how we respond to it,” Grasser said.

“What do you have in mind, Mr. President? Mayor Meridian asked. “I’m not sure about that yet, but one thing is for certain. We will not give into this terrorist, or its insane demands. We must find a way to thwart, or to kill the damned thing. Look what it did to Hadley. Goddamnit! No fucking way am I going to let it get away with that!” the president exclaimed.

The three officials from the District of Columbia stared at the president. Each, seemingly, at a loss for words.

“Uh, Mr. President, I understand how you feel. Hell, we all do. But, uh, I think that while we try to figure out a way to get rid of this—uh thing, for now, at least, we should give the impression of going along with it. If we don’t, sir, we’ll never get a chance to kill it because we’ll be dead,” the mayor replied.

“This is the United States of America. We are the most powerful nation on the face of this Earth, and I am its leader. Mayor, are you suggesting that I allow this country, myself and this government to be held hostage by a fucking terrorist?” Grasser shouted. There was a deafening silence in the limousine.

“With respect, Mr. President, sir, no one is suggesting that at all. But we must acknowledge what we’ve seen with our own eyes. This is no ordinary terrorist. This thing walked into a crowded church in broad daylight, in full view of everyone. Walked through the air, showing the same disdain for the laws of gravity as it does for the laws of the land. It went right by your people and mine, and not one of us could move a muscle, or lift a finger against it. For that matter, we couldn’t even speak. Then the Archbishop was killed right before our eyes. And again, we were unable to do a fucking thing to help, or to prevent it. The few who seemed to break free of whatever spell it had us under, and tried to run—sir, this isn’t your run of the mill terrorist. It is your decision, of course, but I think we need to meet with this thing. We need to find out what it wants. The appearance of cooperating may buy us some time. Maybe, we can learn something, something that could help us. The mayor is right, if we don’t go we are already dead,” Chief Jones said.