Demonoid: Messenger of Death Page #2

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Well, let me tell you about luck.

There's an easy way, and a hard way.

Now, the easy way,

you tell us, we'll let you go.

We'll all cash in. Rich.

And the hard way?

I'll cut those hands off,

and feed 'em to the coyotes.

- That's...

- Fool! Like a fool!

Get him, Frankie!

Get him, Frankie! Frankie!

Let me outta here! Get me outta...

Shut up!

Stay away from me!

- Shut up!

- Stay away!

We've got good news and bad news.

Go ahead.

Well, they found the girl.

Dead.

Oh.

Where?

About 20 miles across the state line.

There are two other bodies nearby.

Were they men?

Yeah, both.

One was a gambler.

His name was name was Frankie Phillips.

He's got the usual rap sheet.

Extortion, fraud.

Who was the other one?

Well, he was badly burned.

They assume it's the owner

of a neighboring shack.

That was Mark.

Well...

Some relative supposedly

identified the body.

Anyway, they shipped it

to Los Angeles for burial.

To Our Lady of Hope Cemetery in Inglewood.

Might want to check that out.

I will.

Confusion, Father, stirring inside of me.

Father...

I ask your forbearance.

I ask deliverance from doubt.

Amen.

Madam.

I'm sorry, but the church is closed.

Oh.

I didn't know God punched a clock.

No.

No, he's available to anyone, at anytime.

His emissaries though are...

are merely human.

Good.

Because then you'll understand

the problems of another human being.

The man you buried was my husband.

Did you ever see the body?

No.

Was an autopsy ever performed?

Well, it wasn't necessary.

The poor man was burnt beyond recognition.

I'm going to insist

that the grave be opened.

Well, you'll have to talk

to all the officials.

You know, basically, the unearthing

of a body is, is legally complex.

You're gonna need

a good reason, Mrs. Baines.

That's perfectly all right.

May I see the grave now, please, Father?

I'm sorry to have been

so brusque just now,

but it's very urgent that I see his grave.

-I understand, Mrs. Baines.

You might gain some solace

from just being near the grave.

Let's see now. Where are we.

Some place close by here.

Right.

Here we are.

Uh-oh.

What sort of a disturbed person

would violate a grave?

He did it.

My husband, the man that you buried.

This grave was not dug up.

It was dug out, from the inside.

Look, Father, there are no shovel marks.

The earth was heaved up and out.

And the coffin. Look.

The wood is splintered,

just as if it had exploded.

Hm.

Well, uh...

Come on, let's go.

You coming?

Wait!

You blessed the grave.

Evil defiled it.

Now, is that a personal defeat

that you cannot accept?

I cannot accept your whole theory.

And yours?

Well, your husband won a lot of money.

Perhaps he made some enemies.

Why would they want his body?

There is no proof that the body

I laid to rest was your husbands.

It was Mark's body.

Graves have been vandalized before.

Vandalized?

Unfortunately,

they will be vandalized again.

Just as long as priests remain blind.

It's apparent to me

that the police should be notified.

That's aisle three, section one.

You'll find what's left of the grave.

Yeah, I'll take a quick look.

Say, tell me, Leo.

What exactly do you hope to find?

I really don't know.

These kind of creeps really get me down.

Goodnight.

Father.

Do you believe that God

is the ultimate source of good?

That's not a serious question.

Do you?

What's your point?

My point is that if you do, you must

believe in an evil force opposing God.

Capable of causing destruction.

Not in the form

of a 300-year-old hand that crawls.

No!

You stay here!

Leo!

What's that?

The devil's hand.

Hi, Leo.

What happened to you last night?

Nothing. I finished my report, and I left.

We heard a gunshot.

I didn't.

You certainly left in a mighty hurry.

A call came in.

Whats the matter with you, Father?

You're beginning to sound like a cop.

We found a body.

It's left hand severed off.

Maybe a cult of, uh,

weirdos out to cast a spell.

Maybe a...

group trying to appease

an angry god, huh Father?

It's a possibility.

Wonder how that stuff looks in the ring.

It has been a long time

since I've been in one.

Let me see if I can find you

a sparring partner.

All right.

How about Hoyt?

How about me?

All right. You're on.

Are you all right? You're limping.

Oh, a souvenir from the wars.

It gets like this when I...

when I overuse it.

What can I do for you?

Father, I need your help.

Did you speak with Sargent Matson?

Better than that. I fought with him.

And he doesn't have any superhuman powers.

It was a friendly match.

Well, then the hand does not

possess Sargent Matson.

Well, there's another line of reasoning.

Oh, there is no hand. Right?

Mrs. Baines. You're distraught.

Grieved. Emotionally wrought.

Father, I'm staying at the Cottage Inn.

Bungalow 17. The number's on the card.

And I'll be there

until I destroy the hand.

Excuse me, ma'am. Is this your car?

Oh, hello.

It's, uh, Sargent Matson, isn't it?

I asked about your car.

Yeah, this is my car. It's rented.

Stolen.

What?

You can't be serious. You remember me.

I met you with

Father Cunningham last night.

I... excuse me, I mean, I have a rental

contract, if you want to see that.

I'm not a car thief.

Right now you're a suspect,

and suspects have to go to the station.

Now, wait a minute.

I mean, have I got a choice?

- We all have choices, ma'am.

- Well, you're not giving me any!

- You're wasting time.

- You are making a big mistake.

You're under arrest.

Ow!

What the hell is this all about?

You know what the hell it's all about.

Yes, Officer. What can I do for you?

What do you want?

Either you cut my hand off,

or I'll kill you.

Why did she seek me out?

Why did you send her to me?

I want to help her.

But how can I help her when I have so many

of my own personal doubts?

Father, I ask you for your strength

and your guidance.

What are you gonna do with the hand?

In a word...

It's your gift.

You set it free. Now it's yours.

Uh uh. No straps, no gas,

just cut.

In the name of God, don't do it.

In the name of evil, you and I must obey.

It's going to be very painful

because this cauterizes and cuts.

God.

Good evening. Cottage Inn.

Bungalow 17, please.

One moment, please.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Baines

is not in her room yet.

Would you tell her

that Father Cunningham called?

And for her to give me a call,

no matter what time she comes in.

Okay. Thank you, Father.

Oh.

No!

Let me help you.

- Oh, my God.

- Don't!

Don't touch the hand!

Stop!

It was reported that a patrol car

was sitting here all night.

Could be Matson's.

This is Matson's car, all right.

I'd better call headquarters.

I wish I could have it,

but it is yours, forever.

Oh, Father.

Get me out of this nightmare.

Hold it!

Let me go!

Quick, get in the car!

You just take it easy.

Call headquarters.

We gave it its freedom so...

when Mark died, the hand became mine.

Oh, it captured others, yes, but, uh...

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