Blood and Eggs: Evil Legend Revealed

By Patty Fischer

From the prosperous fishing port in Cadiz, on the island of Panay, the Philippines, fisherman Joaquin Ramos comes home to discover his pregnant wife, a victim of the evil aswang. Without a thought, grief-stricken, he kills the creature crouched over his dead wife. Legend has it, when one kills an aswang, descendants of theirs will become one, so the curse lives on.

The story moves on to a more recent setting in Central Indiana, quaint community of Henderson, and the large metropolitan area of Indianapolis. Two detectives from The Henderson Police Department, Glenda McMahan and Luther Charles embark on an investigation that leads them to a mysterious suspect, Amado Rathbone. Amado, a beautiful, wealthy, and successful chemist working for the billion-dollar pharmaceutical company, Hale Broderick, leads a double life. From the powerful influence of his father's wealth and his recent development of a miracle drug, Divina, Amado will never see the inside of a jail cell. Taking matters into their own hands, McMahan and Charles face Rathbone in full horrific transformation. After Rathbone's demise, another aswang is discovered, this one almost takes the life of Detective Glenda McMahan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463432058

Patty Fischer

I have been writing consistently short stories, editorials, and longer pieces of fiction for the last fifteen years. Most of my writing leans toward Mystery/Thriller. I have a vast knowledge of Midwestern life and its unique surroundings. I possess an uncanny knack in bringing the reader to a continual process of suspense and intrigue. Living in the Midwest most of my life, and bringing up my three sons, I have recorded on paper and by osmosis of living here in Central Indiana. Indiana is rich in family ties, homespun storytelling, and possesses a plethora of memorable characters. As all writers, I read continually, and take in places I have visited and lived. Writing anything, I have the ability to relive experiences, and people I have come across in my travels, then weave these tools into the bulk of whatever I am working on. My love of words, painting places, and characters into a story is the rod that keeps me fired up to continue the most lengthy and sedentary activity writing proves to be.

Book preview

Chapter One

A Walk in the Park

Before picking up her keys resting in a wooden bowl on her shiny walnut table in the foyer, Evie stared at her reflection in the mirror. A woman of fifty-one, her light golden hair fell in long strands over her slender shoulders. Her blue eyes still bright, but she noticed small lines forming and a slight puffiness underneath. Her lips were still pouty and full, but pale from her nights’ rest. With the help of a good bra, her breasts gave the illusion of youthful perkiness and sensual roundness.

She thought to herself, ‘Well, ol’ girl you’re not dead yet. Let’s shake these blues, and get in the game again.’

Evie began her five mile trek at the marshes, one of the entrances to The Shadyside Recreation Area. The marshes were an area where a large gathering of wildlife flourished, such as: canada geese, mallard ducks, and the occasional graceful swan. From a view at one of the many footbridges, there was a line-up of canada geese basking in the May sun along a bright green grassy bank. An elegant white swan smoothly glided towards the bright chartreuse algae to nibble on the clingy micro-organisms found in the yellowish-green matter.

Evie soon found a healthy stride. She passed other walkers and bikers who shared this glorious pastime in the winding park. Two ladies, same age as her also hit a long stride on the trail. One occupied herself on a cell phone, the other lady cursed with wavy clownish-orange hair offered a greeting. Evie came to Maynard Lake, a man-made body of water developed for the area’s specific ecosystem.

She entered an area of dense woods where distinct shadows were created by bits of sunlight shining through masses of viridian colored leaves, and reddish-brown branches canopied along her ascending footsteps.

The sun beating down on her head and shoulders warmed her psyche, as it also warmed her body. A black-haired attractive Asian man riding an orange mountain bike passed by, Amazing day, pretty lady!

He whizzed passed Evie, the spokes on his bike whistled. She pondered the concept of pretty. ‘Am I still pretty enough to be defined as pretty. He noticed with just a glance. Sam hadn’t called me his Pretty Baby in many moons. I thought being pretty was over in this twilight of life."

Walking along Cross Street, runners in a pack of eight glided by, all caught up in rigorous movement. Their ears covered with stereophonic sound attached by individual walkmans. An elderly couple walked at a significant slow pace. Instead of being caught up in the surrounding beauty, they were enamored by their respective cell phones.

Evie shook her head. With all this glorious scenery, why so many are mesmerized by their electronic devices. Her gray despondent mood lifted. Soon she walked past the red covered bridge. To her direct left through the thicket of bushes and tall trees, a combination of sky-high sycamore and elms, she heard voices of those gliding along the water in their fishing boats.

Without warning, her befriended tranquility was savagely interrupted. Something or someone jerked both her arms. Her arms pulled back, she felt cold metal suddenly clamped around her wrists. She struggled to turn around, unsuccessful to gain any point of free movement. Someone hit her hard in the back of the head, preventing her to turn.

Pulled down a sharp incline, her face met neighboring branches with a stinging sensation. She was taken down eight feet, close to where White River flowed. She restrained herself from crying out. With polite compliance maybe she could get out of this without too much damage.

I have twenty dollars in my back pocket. You can have it, there is more in my van. If it’s just money you want, I will help you out.

Through her incessant rambling, she could hear her captor’s heavy breathing. She smelled a salty musty odor, coming from his sweat, hitting the summer breeze. The attacker demonstrated long disciplined breaths, those of a runner.

She was thrust into the ground ahead. Her face meshed into a mixture of wet grass, damp leaves, and a clay dirt open ground. The point of knowing real danger, real terror came quickly enough. She cried out like a pleading child who had just gotten in trouble, Oh, please don’t hurt me. I have not done anything to you. Let me go now, I promise to never tell anyone of this. Please, don’t!

Her captor had a specific agenda to satisfy some strange ritual. Her pleas fell on unsympathetic ears, void of reason or compassion.

In the midst of her cries, there came a ripping sound. Her clothes, back of her shirt, and her pants cut through with a sharp razor type knife. With distinct precision and skill, her assailant sliced her bra, then her undergarments.

What happened next defied any margin of human decency. He cut into her pale skin, dark red blood oozed from the incision. The cutting began in the lumbar region of her back. The incision went through the fascia—the connective tissue enveloping the group of muscles around Evie’s spine. The incision trailed off two inches from her tailbone. He stopped.

The victim’s pain and subsequent horror proved to be incomprehensible. During the agonizing process of being cut into, her cries sounded like the dreadful noise of a severely wounded animal. She stopped crying out for a spell, then heard a faint sound of a zipper.

Not only did she endure the agony of being torn open, she was to suffer the indignity of being sexually violated. She felt a man’s penis enter her, twice, then too many times to count. She whispered into the damp ground, Lord, help me, get me through this. Oh, relieve me of all this, stop the pain… Please God, help me!

Crouched over his victim, his strong legs held her down while she twitched to and fro. With his hands soaked in her blood, now a brighter red as the oxygen changed its color, he reached into a small burlap bag. He removed an egg. This egg was larger than the usual variety purchased at the local Krogers. He made an opening large enough for the broth inside to trickle into his mouth. The flavor of this broth excited all of his senses.

Before taking in the contents of the shimmering white orb, he spoke, My balut do your magic!

He ingested the egg in two devouring bites, so as not to visually encounter the fetus inside. His eyes glazed over into a state of complete satisfaction. One last swallow gave way to one last thrust into his victim. His orgasm contained a mixture of blissful finality, and a monstrous wicked act of total human defilement.

He bent down close to Evie’s right ear. You won’t die.

His whisper sounded like a hiss coming from a venomous snake just before attacking its victim. The assailant ran off and disappeared into the neighboring mass of trees. Despite Evie’s grave physical condition, she crawled up the incline of raised ground to a visible trail. The Asian biker she encountered earlier made another round. He caught sight of Evie, bloodied and filthy, half-naked struggling to walk forward.

God above, what happened to you?

He got off his bike and placed it onto the paved trail. Getting a closer look as he approached her, he saw her open bloody dirt-caked wound. His revulsion almost caused him to freeze where he stood. No one deserved this type of heinous abuse. He snapped back into a mode of immediate action. What was left of her clothes hung into sliced pieces of fabric around her bare broken body. Her savior pulled out his cell phone, and in minutes Evie was covered up and taken into an ambulance.

Chapter Two

What Now?

What Evie Yancey thought was a nightmare, she discovered was a horrific reality. She struggled to open her eyes. She heard noises of short beeps and constant gurgling. She laid on her right side in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV Tree, an apparatus with the ability of feeding a patient life-saving fluids while they are unconscious. Soon she realized, what she perceived as a dream, in reality it was real. The agony to bear proved to be almost as difficult as the attack, itself.

A tall youthful curly-haired redheaded nurse dressed in fire-engine red scrubs studied Evie’s vitals from the monitor, located midway up on the IV Tree. Just then, Evie wanted to move around. Her back covered in an enormous bandage suddenly rallied in shooting pains.

Mrs. Yancey, now you see what happens when you move like that. You’re due for some pain medication. I will just slip some into this tube. You will be comfortable in a few minutes. Do you want me to get your husband?

Evie managed a smile, and grunted an affirmative response. Sam came walking in. As soon as he saw she was conscious, he broke out into man-size tears.

Honey, you have been out for six days. Do you know what happened to you?

The large green body cushion resting against her back prevented any upward movement. Sam pulled up a chair to get closer to her face. She whispered, Yes, tell me, please.

His bulky hairy hands brushed his tears away. He struggled against any ongoing emotion. An ambulance brought you in from Shadyside. Someone attacked you and cut into your lower back. The doctor performed surgery to put everything right again. Honey, the wound was real deep. I wasn’t sure you were going to come out of this.

She laid there, listening to every word. As her husband told her the details, she was occupied with her own private thoughts. ‘I don’t want to hear anymore about how I am going to be fine. I’m not fine, I hurt bad. And what if that bastard comes back for me. I have to see to it, he ends up in prison for a good long time."

Dr. Van Horne, a short dark haired gentleman wearing casual attire under his white doctor’s jacket, possessed intriguing noncommittal blue-green eyes, and smelled of Polo. He politely walked in, shook Sam’s hand, and introduced himself to Evie.

Hello there, it looks like you survived. Your waking up is most positive. The surgery was very extensive, but the healing process has begun. The nurse changed your dressing last night, all looks real good, the tissues and outside skin are healing nicely. Mrs. Yancey, you can eat solid food whenever you want. I will check back tomorrow.

He patted her on the shoulder, and turned his attention to Sam. Both men walked out into the hospital corridor. Another nurse older and stouter came in to look at the bandage, and clean around the wound.

Her wound, a reality that would become almost a living and breathing entity. In time, the swollen red eight inch area would change to a thin strawberry-colored line. In Evie’s mind, the immediate discomfort was evident now, eventually to fade. Her inner turmoil, a constant memory, the feeling of being cut, and the feeling of being violated against all that she believed to be decent and human.

The day before Evie was discharged from St. Joseph’s Memorial, she took a shower on her own. A nurse gently helped to cover her up, and placed her back into a comfortable niche in the bed. An audible knock at the door, the nurse opened the door to reveal two official looking people with badges attached to their dark blue blazers. The female officer spoke first, her voice devoid of any lilting softness or female tenderness.

Mrs. Yancey, I am Detective McMahan, this is Detective Charles. We understand you were attacked at said location, Shadyside Recreation Area. Can you give us some information?

Evie noticed she could move around without much pain, the pain killers must have kicked in. Excuse me, this injury is in a tricky place. I am willing to give you as much information as I can. Only I never saw the man’s face. My arms were restrained the entire time, my back was to him.

Detective McMahan, a stunning brunette in her middle forties demonstrated an outward coldness, and a nagging sense of body language was evident, to move this along as quickly as possible.

Detective Charles, a fairly tall athletic younger officer showed genuine concern and an enthusiasm to listen to Mrs. Yancey’s explanation. His dark brown smooth complexion and warm brown eyes caused Evie to direct her words to him, only.

I was not only forced to the ground, cut open, and unable to move whatsoever. I was raped! Do you know how that would feel?

Still no indication of human concern, Detective McMahan continued with another question.

You say, you were raped?

Detective McMahan’s manner and dialogue, most blunt, enraged Evie. She responded to the detective with a mixture of sarcasm and mild hysterics.

Yeah, he screwed me over and over while my back oozed with blood. I could even feel his fingers rubbing over my wet open wound! How do you like that for information?

Detective Charles took Evie’s hand, calmed her down with just a touch. Detective McMahan stood in front of her bed, stoic without an ounce of compassion. She wrote down the victim’s words as they were uttered.

Detective Charles, in a smooth soft voice told Evie, Mrs. Yancey, we can go and give you some rest. I can imagine how upsetting this can be, reliving the act.

Evie shook her head. She wanted to continue. As she spoke of that afternoon, the clarity of what he did, said, and how he smelled. She brought the horror to life.

"No, I want to