The Fourth Seal

By Michael Duhaime

Marty Sager, a popular football figure, is severly injured in a car accident after seeing a grotesque face come through his windshield. While recovering in the hospital, strange events begin to occur. Did losing his leg in the car accident and knowing that he will never play football again drive Marty over the edge or are these bizarre occurances really happening? After leaving the hospital, Marty becomes involved with the occult - Is this just a dream? Has Marty gone insane? Or is it reality!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716156137

Book preview

The Fourth Seal

by

M. A. Duhaime

@1989 Michael A. Duhaime

@ 1989 Diane M. Duhaime

This book is dedicated to :

My Parents, Robert and Janet Duhaime

My Inlaws, Emile and Barbara Spiess

My brothers and sister, Mark, Bob and Doreen

My brothers and sister inlaw, David, Phillip Spiess and Cheryl Britton

My wife, Diane,

my children, Bryan, Greg, Steven and Amanda,

and to

my grandchildren, Tevin and Sienna Duhaime,

Marshall and Carter Duhaime

and great grandson, Micah Duhaime

ONE

Marty gently closed the car door behind Ellen and walked her to the grayish-stained door marked 42B.  He pecked her affectionately on the cheek and quietly asked, See you in the morning?

Eight o'clock sharp! she commanded.  Ellen watched Marty walk down the cement stairway into the darkness and drive away in his new silver Porsche.  She stood there a moment in deep thought, wondering why she loved that man so deeply.  There were some things about Marty that were so strange, yet his tenderness could melt her.  She wondered to herself why he had never attempted to make love to her.  A kiss on the lips was for special occasions and most always was the tender kiss on the cheek.  She knew that his career meant a great deal to him.  He devoted hours each day to exercising so he could remain in top physical condition.  She accepted that, after all, it had been extremely beneficial for Marty.  He had won the Heisman, and was now quarterback for the New England Patriots.  With his guidance, the team was number one in their division and was the number one pick to walk away with the Super Bowl. 

Marty is devoted, and to be the best at anything, one has to be devoted.  Ellen realized that, and she guessed that this was why Marty felt so close to her.  It wasn't easy being number two in someone's life.  Ellen looked up at the sky.  It was such a beautiful autumn night.  A gentle breeze rustled the leaves; it was such a nice sound.  She could remember such solitude in her youth on nights like this.  After a few moments of reflection, she turned and unlocked the door.

Marty was passing through the thick wooded area by the Merrimack River.  He could see the silver reflections from the moon pass through the trees from time to time as he moved swiftly down Merrybrook Road.  He had bought the Porsche last Wednesday and tonight was his first night to feel it's smoothness on the old, winding road.  Boy, what a dream, he thought silently.  It handled the curves with such ease.  It was magnificent.  Leonardo De Vinci couldn't have done better.  The car was indeed a work of art.  Marty was like a little boy with a new toy.  He played with the accelerator and the shift with great precision, from fourth to fifth, as he rounded each curve.  Just ahead was dead man’s curve.  Marty wondered what he could safely take it at.  He decided it was 60 miles per hour.  Yeah 60, that will give her the test, he thought.  Marty revved the engine pulling through the sharp, deadly curve.  The car's tires squealed loudly, piercing the quiet of the night, but still holding the road solidly.  Suddenly, he hit the brakes!  But, it wasn't dead man’s curve that slowed him down.  Right smack in the middle of the damn road was an old woman, just standing there as still as could be.  She sported an ugly, penetrating and mystically evil smile...  It was as if she wanted to get hit.  As if she was challenging Marty to hit her as hard as he could.  A catch me if you can type of a dare. The Porsche struck the woman and drove right through her! Marty screeched to a stop and jumped out of the car.  Jesus Christ! he screamed.  He ran back to the spot where the old woman was and frantically searched the dark, sullen road, but found nothing.  Marty ran back to the car and quickly grabbed his flashlight from the glove compartment.  He looked all around, and even searched the river bank, still nothing.  Wait a minute, he thought.  God damn it, there ain't even blood. There's gotta be blood!

Marty could feel his heart pounding hard and his body shook violently.  Shit, I can't believe this! he cried aloud.  He went back to the car and inspected the front end meticulously.  "There’s not even a mark!" he thought with horror. He looked cautiously for a second time, and then climbed back into the flawlessly running sports car.  The automobile’s headlamps peered across the rapid infested river with eeriness in the cold night air. A thin fog hovered silently and innocently above the intimidating river.  He sat there for a minute, performing breathing exercises to calm himself down.

I hit that woman square at 60 miles per hour! he pondered silently.  The thought of the incident raced through his mind.  I couldn't have missed her!  He concluded in silence.  Man, what a rush, what a fucking rush!  Marty sat in the car, as white as a sheet, for a few minutes to calm down and evaluate what had happened.  Could it have been a hallucination?  He thought.  No it couldn't have been, I'm not crazy.  Maybe I've just been working too hard.  Maybe my mind just put her there to slow me down.  I was getting kind of crazy on the road.  I gotta quit acting like a little kid.  He sat back, sighed, and pushed in the clutch as he smoothly moved the shift lever to first.  Okay, I'll keep it down this time.  He promised himself.  Or maybe it was his mind he was talking to.  Man I've got to slow down, I've been working too fucking hard!  He thought.  After all, it was his mind that was trying to play weird tricks on him, he justified to himself.  I don't know about me, I'm getting kind of strange.  Marty you really didn't see a thing; you're getting weird on me, my man!  He spoke to himself in an attempt to calm down.  The event scared the hell out of him because the pure sight of the old woman had rung a bell in his mind.  She looked familiar to him, but he couldn't place where he had seen her before.  The tires squealed slightly and he was on his way again.

He turned on the radio and tuned in WKYS, an FM oldies rock station.  Foghat, all right, truckin' music, he thought, feeling slightly more at ease.  He tapped his hand on the shift to the beat of the music and started to hum along.  The radio sounded great.  Stereo three way speakers, good, solid sound.  The song ended.  All right, you guys know how to get it down! he yelled aloud.  The next song was the Stones, Sympathy for the Devil.  Marty knew the words and he sang out loud.  Please allow me to introduce myself...

Suddenly, a face appeared through the windshield!  The face was that of the same grotesque old woman his mind had told him that he had run over with his car!  She reminded him of someone he had seen before, but he couldn’t remember her likeness at all.  He knew her though, and he knew that she was extremely evil.  She was from hell.  Marty’s hell.  His mind raced to picture where he had seen her before.  He wondered why he couldn’t remember someone so grotesque and evil looking.  That face became glued in his mind forever.  She would live with Marty until eternity.  The memory of the grotesque, old and extremely ugly woman was so vivid and so real to him that his mind became convinced that the old witch woman was real.  She was like nothing nor like anyone that he had ever seen before.  Ever...  Her nose was pointed like that of a witch.  Her teeth were long and sharp and her hairline receded considerably.  She had long sharp fingernails which were extremely filthy and in desperate need of a manicure.  There were several large warts on her face which added to the ugliness she so demonically possessed.  Long, stiff hairs protruded from the ugly warts.  She screamed out loudly, Walk through the deep, while you sleep.  For I hold the key to your eternity!

What do you want from me? Marty hysterically screamed out at the witch-like woman.

I want you!  The old woman screeched with a loud rickety voice.  Her face touched Marty’s and he felt the extreme roughness of her crusty skin.  Her eyes were hollow and deep, but penetrating.  Want to play a game, Marty?  She asked with an evil laughter in her voice as she rubbed her leathery and hairy nose against Marty’s.  You know that I want you, don't you Martin?  She laughed hauntingly; with an animal-like shrill in her voice.  There was an immense evil in her voice that made Marty extremely tense and withdrawn.  An evil; like the evil that a child senses from the monster lurking in the closet or underneath the bed.  An evil; like that which lurks in the dark; waiting to ascend upon its next victim.  An evil that lives; and frivolously thrives in the worst of nightmares.

Marty couldn't see where he was going and the Porsche furiously veered from one side of the road to the other.  The car made loud squealing sounds as its tires rubbed and ground viciously across the hard broken pavement of the old road. Marty's vision became cloudy as he heard a loud crashing noise that was followed by intense pain as Marty’s body was thrust forward...

Everything went blank.

TWO

Marty awoke in extreme agony, the pain was excruciating.  He could feel his hip throbbing.  It felt as though someone had put a bicycle pump in his leg and just kept pumping and pumping air into it.  Marty reached down to touch his right leg.  His leg was gone.  It had been torn off just below the hip.  He screamed, Oh my God, oh my God  My leg!  Where’s my leg?  Ellen rushed to his side, while the nurse quickly reached at a button on the wall and pushed it frantically.  Marty appeared to be in shock, he just screamed and looked very confused.  He sat up and just kept screaming, My leg, my leg, where is my leg?  This can’t be happening to me!  Oh God!  Oh God Almighty in heaven!

Dr. Trowbridge rushed in, he quickly told the nurse to prepare an injection.  He calmly said to Martin, Mr. Sager, please lie down.  You shouldn't be up.  Please lie back down on the bed.  He gently helped Martin back to a lying position. 

Doc, what's happened? Marty asked in a confused manner.  My leg hurts like hell.  It feels like it’s burning inside.   

You’re in the trauma center at Boston General Hospital.  You've had a terrible accident, Mr. Sager; we couldn't save your leg.  It was severed and severely damaged.  The nurse is going to give you a sedative to relax you.  I’m extremely sorry, Martin.  We did the best that we possibly could.  The doctor was kind enough not to tell Marty that he had been heavily dosed with morphine.

Nurse Petton reached for Marty's arm and plunged delicately forward with the hypodermic needle.  She forced the needle into the protruding vein and pushed inward with a force which emanated all of her strength.  Marty screamed at the top of his lungs calling the nurse every name in the book of Nastiest Name Calling Invented and portended to give in as he sighed slightly.  He lay back on the bed and loosened up considerably.  His eyes slowly closed.  Marty appeared to be at peace once more with himself and the rest of the world. 

Ellen looked at Dr. Trowbridge with worry in her eyes.  She asked, almost bursting into tears, Is he going to be all right, Doctor? 

He replied in a professional manner, My dear, only time will tell.  Physically, Martin is a strong man; mentally he will have to accept that he is now a cripple for life.  Under the circumstances that will be extremely difficult. As strong as Marty may be physically, mentally he could very well succumb to the reality that he will no longer be able to perform athletically.  That could devastate him unremittingly as a human being, invoking the child within him.  I don’t want to see that happen to such an extraordinary individual as Marty, as I’m sure that you don’t either, Miss Socourin.  I am recommending a psychologist in Houston capable of dealing with such circumstances.  This psychiatrist is considered by his peers, the finest in the country.  He has won many awards for his achievements and I think that you may rest assured that Marty would be in the most capable hands available.  We feel that this is Marty's only hope of surviving the trauma he has suffered.  Please, Miss Socourin, go home and get some rest.  It will be a while before Martin wakes again.  Dr. Trowbridge gently touched Ellen's shoulder as he led her from the room.  Ellen turned her head to look back at Martin as they walked through the door.

Thursday morning Ellen was back at the hospital, nine o'clock sharp.  Ellen was a very punctual person.  She hated to be late even when it was unimportant to be on time.  Punctuality brings out the personality.  Her father was an accountant; she guessed she had received that trait from him. Everything had to be in order, in their little rows, neat and organized.

My God, he looks so helpless, she thought as she entered the sterile looking hospital room.  There were flowers all over the room, and a stack of mail, untouched, on the nightstand next to the bed.  Marty lay peacefully without movement.  Ellen walked over to the bed, bent down and kissed him on the forehead.  He lay still, not flinching at all.  She walked over to the horrid looking chair in the corner, turned her head to make sure there was nothing in it, and sat down.  She looked out the window. It was an extremely beautiful fall day.  The sun was shining brightly.  People were walking in the park, rustling through fallen leaves.  Marty would have loved a day like this, she thought.  He'd be out there jogging his fool legs off.  Oh God!  How is he going to handle this?  Ellen started to cry and she pulled a Kleenex from a box on the shelf by the window.  She wiped her tears.  Ellen watched Marty sleeping so peacefully.  She felt so bad that he had all of these tubes and needles attached to him.  Attached to what was once such a strong and physical body.  He looked so pale now.  So unhealthy.  How could this be?  This can’t be Marty, she thought to herself.

She heard a movement in the room.  Ellen turned her head quickly and saw a nurse approaching the bed.  Her name tag read Peg Sundstrand, R.N.  She smiled and said to Ellen, Well, how's our big boy doing today?  Ellen just turned her head back towards the large picture window as if she were trying not to accept the reality of the situation.  The nurse just made a gesture with her hand, lifting her nose in the air.  Ellen thought to herself, wondering if this meant the end of their relationship.  Not as far as she was concerned.  She would always love Marty, forever.  She wondered how Marty would accept what had happened.  How he would feel towards her, or anyone and anything else in the world.  His career was number one in his life and now it came to an abrupt end.  That would be very hard to handle.  Will Marty still love me?  She wondered silently and uncomfortably.   

Marty stirred, the nurse had apparently awakened him when she took his pulse and temperature.

Well, how are we doing today, big fella? the nurse asked in a manly sort of manner.  I’ve gotta take your vitals.  Nothin’ personal, honey.

What time is it?  Marty asked.

10:26 a.m., the nurse replied, as she looked at the silver watch on her arm.

    Can you get these fucking tubes out of my nose and my arm?  Christ, I feel like I’m in a test tube!

    You know that I can’t do that, Mr. Sager.

    "I want to see the man.  Who’s in control here?  I’m in a lot of pain and I’m extremely uncomfortable.  This sucks and I want out of here!  I’m in a god damn hospital, for Christ’s sake!  Can’t you do something for this ungodly pain?"

    Well you aren’t getting out of here!  How do you like them apples?  If you calm down and act like a good boy; I’ll help you with your pain.  Now, what do you say to that?

    I want out!

    You aren’t getting out!  I’m leaving right now if you don’t shut your mouth.  Take your pick.  I can give you this shot or you can lay there and suffer.  Which will it be?  It’s up to you, big boy.

    Okay!  I give up.  Give it to me like you’ve never done it before.  Send me into pure ecstasy.

    Is he always like this? the nurse asked Ellen.

    Ever since I’ve known him, Ellen answered.  She felt a little embarrassed.  The nurse administered Marty’s shot which mellowed him significantly. 

Marty looked out the window and then towards Ellen.

How ya doin', babe, he asked with a very weak voice.

Ellen got up and walked over to the bed.  She bent over and kissed him on the forehead.

Ellen, please tell me that it's not true!  Tell me that I'm having some kind of a fucking dream.  This isn't happening is it?  Please tell me that this isn't happening, Ellen!  Damn it all to hell!  I'm a goddamn fuckin' cripple!  My career is shot to hell!  I'm nothing but shit!  I'm all washed up!  I just want to die, Ellen!  I just want to fuckin' die!  I don't have any reason to live anymore!  Please God, let me die!  C'mon you bastard, kill me!  What the fuck are you waiting for?  You suck!  How could you do this to me?

Ellen broke out crying and laid her head on Marty's chest.  He laid there motionless for a moment, and then he lifted his arm and ran his fingers lovingly through her hair.  He loved the way that her hair felt.  It was so soft and smooth.  It felt like he was running his fingers through silk.  He loved everything about Ellen.  He loved the way that she felt.  He loved her skin.  He loved the way that she took care of herself.  He loved the way that she moved.  He loved her intellect.  He couldn’t think of anything that he didn’t love about Ellen.  He now felt terrified of losing her.  Maybe to another guy.  Maybe to her career.  Maybe because he was acting like a jerk.  He felt as though he had become a pantomime of weakness.  He felt more vulnerable now than he had ever felt before.  For the first time, he felt that he was going to lose Ellen forever.  He was a nobody now.  A complete and utter embryonic; yet permanent; failure.  The worst part was inevitable. He would lose Ellen to something that he had no control over whatsoever.  They both remained silent for a while, not quite really knowing what to say to one another.  Marty could feel the warm tears on his chest.  He whispered in Ellen's ear, Why us?  Oh my God, why us, babe?

Marty's leg was ripped off at the hip when his Porsche crashed into the trees along Merrybrook Road.  The dashboard was crushed downward by the impact and literally tore off Marty's leg.  The incident leading to the misfortune was what terrified Marty the most.  He didn't know if he should tell Ellen about what happened and just what he saw.  He thought that he was losing his mind.  He was nuts, he just knew it!  The old woman's face kept coming back into his mind.  He really couldn't accept what had happened that night.  The scene of that night kept entering his mind as if to be playful with it; toying with it like a child's game.  He saw the woman standing there in the road, the car driving right through her as though she were an apparition.  He saw her face penetrate the glass windshield without breaking the glass.  How could her head just go through the window like that? he wondered. Her nose touched his.  It felt coarse, as if it were weathered with old age or eaten away by something unknown.  She smelled horrible.  She smelled like the ground; only worse; like maybe old garbage buried in the ground.  She smelled like she was dead or something.  The mere thought of her smell made Marty feel like he had to puke his guts out.  Marty couldn’t make any sense out of the entire incident, even though it was engraved deep into his mind.  Her screams echoed in his mind and he tried to evaluate what she had said to him.  He thought about telling Ellen, but it was too unbelievable for her to accept.  He thought for the time being, he would hold it inside until the time was right.  Ellen was in as much a state of shock as he was.  She didn’t need this shit, Marty thought.  He would wait to tell her about the old witch-woman.

Nurse Sundstrand entered the room.  Boy, does she have a way of moving quietly, Marty thought.

She formally stated, You have some visitors, Mr. Sager.  She followed quickly with, Are you up to seeing anyone at this time?

Who is it? Marty asked.

They say they are very close friends of yours, the nurse announced.

Are they ugly? Marty asked.

Their big and ugly! She answered, jokingly.  Mostly big though!  Very big!  They're nasty too!  I figure that they’ve got to be friends of yours.

In that case, send them in, please, Marty replied, with a grin on his face.  Three very big men entered the room; all three appeared to be in their mid-twenties.  Allen! Marty said happily.  Seeing his friends ameliorated Marty even more.

How ya feelin', you son of a bitch? The blond haired man with the neat beard asked.

Christ, I'm feeling okay, I guess.  What can I say without a hint of self pity?  I'm done for on the field.  All of you know that by now, Marty stated. Tears started to form in his eyes.  He felt sorry that the first sentence to his buddies since the accident had come out like that.

You've got a long life ahead of you, buddy.  I've got complete faith in you.  You'll succeed at whatever you do.  Hell, the thickest skin hasn’t been peeled from the ol’ onion yet, the man with the beard proclaimed.  He tapped Marty with his fist on his left arm near the shoulder.  It was a brotherly sort of gesture.

Well, son of a bitch, how the hell are you assholes doing, anyhow? Marty asked, looking at the other two husky men.  He looked like he had regained his composure. 

Great, Marty, good to see ya, ya scumbag! answered the dark haired man with a very heavy build.  Those tubes and needles don’t do you much justice, my man.  Are they feeding you steroids through those things?

    Fuck you, Jack!  I never needed that shit!  Why’d you guys bring this dude with you?  I’m just kidding.  It’s really great to see you.  I miss you guys.  I don’t want to sound faggy or anything like that, but I really have missed you ugly sons-a-bitches.  You guys are such a sight for sore eyes.  I swear you all get uglier by the minute.  How the fuck are you doin’; anyway?   

The black man quickly followed, Hanging low, Marty, 'bout you?

You never did have no manners, clown! Marty said with a smirk while looking at Ellen.

‘Scuse me, ma'am, the black man state apologetically, nodding at Ellen.

I've heard much worse from you, Steve, Ellen said with a slight laugh.

How are you, Ellen? asked Eric.  Ellen again smiled and said, I'm doing all right.

Eric paused and then looked towards Marty in the bed.  Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes!  Eric walked over to the bed and gave Marty a team friendship handshake.  Steve and Allen followed with the same gesture.

Sit down, guys.  Marty motioned to the chairs near the wall.  You guys blew it, didn't you?  Marty