J. Gonzalez - They

Vince watched Frank grapple with the memories he’d witnessed. Vince still had a hard time believing that what Frank just related was true. How could it not be , he thought, if his conviction of the events seems so real? The only thing that kept him from believing in Frank’s story wholeheartedly was the absurdity of it. To think that the supposed satanic group was as powerful as Frank said they were, and had avoided detection by law enforcement agencies thus far, suggested they boasted an intelligence system that exceeded the CIA’s.

But if you consider the spiritual nature of the story—which Vince had a hard time doing since he didn’t even believe in God or the Devil—perhaps there was some sort of infernal doings here.

Frank regained his composure and continued. “When this memory hit me it was like being sucker punched between the eyes. It literally knocked me down. I sat on the steps that led down to the den and just reeled with the intensity of it. And then I guess I lost it there for a minute. I was bawling like a baby, but more out of fear. I was so utterly petrified, so scared for my life you wouldn’t believe it. Until then I had sort of been coasting through this whole ordeal, accepting the fact that I had been physically and psychologically abused as a child, but still not accepting the whole Satanic thing. I guess you’re feeling the same way.”

Vince nodded. It was hard to grasp.

“But when this memory came back, I was floored. I’d never told my therapist about any suspicions I had about my parents being in a Satanic cult. The memories that always came up before were those of basic dysfunction; my dad striking me, the neglect I used to suffer. Nothing like this. And I realized then that the room I was standing in when this flashback occurred was the same room it happened in. That’s what triggered it. So I got out of the house as quickly as I could and drove to Mike’s place. Told him everything.”

They were silent for a moment, Vince digesting everything Frank had just told him. He finished his Coke and set the empty down in the cup holder. Frank sat forward in his seat, looking out at the park, sipping his Dr. Pepper. The afternoon sun was burning high overhead, and a scratch baseball game had started in the diamond to their left.

“Okay,” Vince said, breaking the silence. He turned to Frank. “So you put two and two together and came after me. And you have no hard, physical proof that any of this happened.”

Frank nodded. “Just my memories.”

Vince thought this over. “How much do you know about this group?”

“Too much and not enough.” Frank shifted around in his seat. He turned to Vince again. “The present lineage has been in existence since the 1960s. They’re called The Children of the Night. The earliest mention of the cult comes from the early part of this century, but it’s believed their links go back much further. I don’t have the time to get into ancient Sumerian and Babylonian occult teachings, but elements of their belief system and rituals go back to them, especially in regards to the Sumerian devil Hanbi.”

“Hanbi?” Vince asked. “What’s that?” His mind flashed back on that jumble of words written in his mother’s blood. That word had been one of them.

“My research on that isn’t complete yet,” Frank said. “In fact, it’s pretty fucking hard unless you can read ancient Sumerian. Hanbi is said to be the father of a more well known Sumerian God named Pazuzu, who was the devil-god of the southeastern wind and brought drought and pestilence. Ever see The Exorcist ?”

Vince nodded.

“The little girl in that movie, Regan, was possessed by Pazuzu.”

“So… Pazuzu is just another name for the Devil?”

“That’s what it all boils down to.” Frank took a sip of his drink. “The devil has gone by numerous names throughout history. Azazel, Beelzebub, Shaitan, Behemoth, Satanael, Melek Taus. With each name he goes by a different appearance but he’s pretty much more or less the same.”

“A fallen angel,” Vince said, the Bible lessons his mother forced him to partake in coming to mind.

“So they say, but there’s a lot more to it than that. I’m still trying to chase that end down too. Needless to say, he’s been worshipped since the dawn of time. In fact, my evidence suggests he was worshipped well before our concept of God even developed.”

“Oh yeah?” Vince looked at Frank curiously.

“I’ll tell you more about that later. Let’s stick with what we’re going on now, which is the group our parents were involved with. The first tangible evidence of our group is from Europe around 1914. It’s alleged that Aleister Crowley associated with them and later left, some say, out of fear, which was out of character for Crowley. There’s evidence of cult activity in the U.S. in the 1920s, especially regarding the Archibald Lasher serial killing case in Los Angeles. By the 1940s, the cult was very active and it’s alleged that Adolf Hitler and several key SS personnel were members. The cult was largely inactive after World War II until the late 1960s. That’s when you had the End Times Church, who worshipped Jesus, God, and Satan simultaneously, their reason being that you can’t have one without the other, that all of them worked together in some sort of tandem. A group called the Four P Movement broke away from yet another cult, one called the Process Church of the Final Judgment and was largely blamed for the rise of cult killings in the US in the late sixties and early seventies. I studied both groups and that’s when I saw that The Children of the Night had re-emerged within this period. By then they’d seamlessly blended into the background of mainstream society. Folks like Charles Manson and his cult were popularly attributed to belonging to one or the other.”

“Oh yeah?” Victor had watched a documentary on Charles Manson a year or two before Laura’s murder.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “There’s no hard proof, of course, but the evidence is pretty strong. There’s even stronger evidence The Children of the Night rubbed shoulders with members of the Japanese Yakuza, various Islamic splinter groups from the Middle East, Reverend Sun Myung Moon, the Army of God, Jim Jones, and serial killers like Henry Lee Lucas and Son of Sam. Their leader was—and still is—Samuel F. Garrison, the “Grand Chingon,” or “Head Devil.” You wouldn’t know he was involved in this stuff from looking at him.” Frank leaned back in his leather bucket seat. “Very suave looking man, early seventies, in great shape for a man of his age. Sharp minded. Very cultured, polite, respectful. A man who has contributed immensely to the business world and the community. A man who is an icon of respectability. But beneath that the guy is the fucking devil.”

Vince was silent for a moment. He was just about to ask a question when Frank continued.

“They’re also connected to similar sects around the world, all involved in the same thing. Are they responsible for all the child abductions and murders you hear about from Christian fundamentalists? No. But they do prey on runaways for their rituals. They’re the easiest targets. Do they keep women in compounds as ‘breeders’ for infants that are later sacrificed to the devil? No fucking way. They probably had a hand in spreading such a rumor because doing so takes all suspicion off of them. But they have used infants in sacrifices.” He stopped himself and for a minute Vince thought he was going to collapse again, but he managed to get under control again. “They are in our government and military. They are experts in mind control, Physiological experimentation on humans and controlling via biochips. They are deceptive and infiltrate the government, modern society, and the Christian church intentionally to pervert it and cause divisions. And the reason they’ve been able to survive for so long is because they are incredibly organized and by outward appearances are outstanding citizens: doctors, lawyers, CEO’s, Law Enforcement Agents, Government Officials, members of the clergy.”