Chapter 78

Craig woke up with a sharp itch in his right shoulder. He scratched and discovered a deep cut running down the front of his shoulder. It burned with something crawling underneath his skin, eating away his flesh. Although the cut seemed raw, it was dry. He imagined whatever was underneath his skin was probably eating the blood as well as blocking all blood circulation. Craig looked away in disgust. He knew the curse was real and his condition would soon be worse than Ferris's.

Craig got in the shower and let the water rinse over the new wound hoping the water might slow down whatever was inside, but he remembered what Ferris had told him. Nothing worked. Not even antiseptic. Craig needed to see Ferris and talk to him about his condition. He also wanted to know if Ferris was feeling better although he did not expect any improvement. In fact, he expected a man close to something of a skeleton. He remembered the smell in Ferris's house when he walked through the door and Craig knew he would end up the same unless a miracle happened.

Craig got out of the shower wondering why his wound was spreading so quickly, but he soon knew the answer when he remembered what the guy with the many tattoos had said about putting the spell on steroids. He wondered whether he should take a day's leave and go to Ferris, but then again, he wanted to see if Pamela would be in the office. He wiped the condensation off the mirror and looked at his face. At least the swelling was a little better, but he had blue marks around his eye and nose. His lip had an ugly cut and there were some raw marks on the facial skin he probably got when they kicked him while he was lying on the floor.

Craig got dressed and phoned the office to say that he would be a little late. Somehow the cut on his shoulder killed his appetite. Breakfast was the last thing on his mind. He kissed Sarah goodbye and locked the front door behind him.

On the way to Vredenburg Craig dialled Ferris's number. The phone rang a few times and went over to voicemail.

'Come on Ferris, answer your phone,' Craig disconnected the call without leaving a message.

Craig waited a few moments and dialled again. There was no answer, just the same old voice messaging service. Craig dropped the phone on the front seat next to him. The last time he had seen Ferris, his condition degraded quite drastically. He was probably still in bed.

Craig stopped in front of Ferris's house and regarded it for a moment. It was quiet. He had a strange feeling something was not quite right. He phoned Ferris one more time hoping he was awake, but there was no answer.

Craig got out of the kombi and approached the front door. He knocked and listened for movement behind the door but there was nothing. He knocked again. This time he knocked harder. Nothing.

'Ferris!' Craig shouted and knocked again, more urgent this time. He took a chance with the doorknob and it turned. He pushed the door open slightly. He wondered why Ferris would leave the door unlocked. Maybe he just stepped out for a minute to go to the shop, but even then he would have assumed Ferris would have locked the door.

'Ferris,' Craig called again through the opening of the ajar door. There was no answer. Craig pushed the door open and entered. The terrible stench hit him in the face. It was worse than before. Instinctively Craig held his hand in front of his nose to block out the vile smell of decaying flesh. It reminded him of a dead bloated dog lying in the sun next to the road he used to travel. The thing had been there for weeks before someone decided to remove it. The house was quiet except for the occasional sound of the refrigerator motor kicking in and the tick of a clock somewhere on a wall deeper inside the house.

Craig entered the house walking slowly and cautiously as if expecting something to jump out from behind a wall at any time.

'Ferris,' Craig said softly, almost sensitive and unsure.

Craig walked through the kitchen door and discovered his colleague in the TV room, sitting on his favourite couch. Ferris's eyes were open as he stared at the TV. The remote control was resting in his right hand. Craig glanced at the TV and noticed it was black. Switched off. He wondered if the disease had spread to Ferris's brain as well. Why would he stare at a dark TV?

'Ferris, why didn't you answer your phone? Didn't you hear me knock?' Craig said unsure walking towards Ferris. Ferris did not move. Craig noticed the flies buzzing around Ferris and he knew his colleague was dead, maybe unconscious but by the smell of the house, he was probably dead. Craig stood in front of Ferris and noticed his eyes were dull and shrunken slightly. Ferris had been dead for a while at least. His left hand was nothing more than a yellow skeleton with pieces of flesh stuck to some of the bones. There was nothing human about his nails. They were thick, dark brown, almost animal-like things sticking out from the tip of his fingers. There were maggots in his mouth and crawling underneath his eyelids. Craig noticed the wetness on the left side of Ferris's T-shirt. He quivered with disgust as he lifted it slightly. He was shocked to see there was hardly any skin left on Ferris's left side. His intestines were visible through his ribcage. He noticed the white maggots moving inside. He jumped back. The smell was unbearable. Craig hurried outside suppressing a surge of vomit. He knew he would die the same way if he did not find a way to stop the curse. Ferris died because of them.

Craig stood outside and wondered what to do next. He could phone the cops, but what good would that do? He could only imagine what the police would say especially if they send the same inspector who almost handled all the cases Craig had reported since their arrived in Saldanha. He would become a suspect sooner or later.

Craig wiped the doorknob with his shirt. He drove to the nearest payphone and made an anonymous call to the police station.