by George Fry
“That could have been any old man.”
Richard was at a loss. This old coot wanted nothing to do with him. Was he hiding something or just being stubborn? If Richard could have gotten his hands on the footage he could easily refute this claim, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, until Mrs. Beattie intervened.
“What are you talking about dear. What about that scar on your arm?”
“Woman!” The old man yelled.
“That’s right.” Richard added. “The old man in the footage burnt his arm.”
Jonathan had no choice but to roll up his sleeve and reveal his scarred arm.
“It’s a little grotesque, but nothing too serious.” He clarified.
“So, you were the man in the footage.”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“Could have been anyone.”
“But, you already admitted you were there.”
“So, there was another old man there. I just coincidentally have a scar on the same arm.”
Richard got up, slamming his hands on the table.
“Why the hell are you being so stubborn!?”
Jonathan returned in kind.
“Why the hell are you so interested in that demon!?”
“It’s not the demon I care about, it’s the man that killed it!”
“Why are you interested in him!? He’s long gone!”
“Because I met him!”
Jonathan paused for a moment.
“Oh, isn’t that convenient, Jonny.” Mrs. Beattie smiled. “You’re not the only one worrying about him.”
“What is she talking about?” Richard asked, slowly sitting back down.
Jonathan sighed. “Nothing. She’s just senile, that’s all.”
“Oh, nonsense.” She replied, getting up.
Mrs. Beattie headed into the bedroom and returned with an electronic tablet. “Look, here.”
“Marie! What are you doing!?”
“I’m showing the police officer the videos you’ve saved.”
“But he works for the government, we can’t trust him. They’ll take us away.”
“No they won’t. Besides, he seems nice.”
“Marie…”
“Anyone who compliments my tea can’t be that bad can they?”
“God, I can't win with you.”
Richard examined the videos, some of which he had never seen before and were much higher in quality. However, they were just more of the same, Drifter fighting demons and nothing more.
The fact that they were downloaded suggested these videos were pulled down from video sharing sites, which may imply someone was trying to censor them.
Interestingly, Drifter's face was not obscured in any of this footage and he had his signature white coat.
“Well, now you know.” Jonathan chided. “So, now what?”
“Why are you so interested in Drifter, that you’d go out of your way to archive videos of him?”
“Is that his name?” The old man laughed.
“When that monster showed up, I thought my life was over right there, but then he showed up and killed it as quickly as it came. Like a miracle. We avoided disaster that day, completely unaware that thing was just the calm before the storm.
Still, even though he was so strong, that man didn’t have the face of a battle hardened warrior, he wasn’t a man at all, he was still just a dumb kid. Even he didn’t quite know how he stopped that thing and then he goes and burns my arm like a moron and runs away.
After that I never saw him again. I was afraid the idiot went and got himself killed, but once footage of the man in the white coat started surfacing, I was relieved to find out he was alive and well and by the looks of him, much more experienced.
Ever since, I’ve been keeping tabs on him and archiving any videos of him I could find. When you’re old and retired like me, you got nothing better to do, anyway.”
“Why do you care so much? Are you related or something?”
“Nah. I guess, with more and more of these demons showing up, each day just feels more bleak that the last, but that kid, he’s like our light of hope.
This is just my little way of showing support. Not just me. There are a lot of people out there who are secretly wishing him luck on whatever he’s doing. He’s saved a lot of people, even if he doesn’t realise it himself.”
“I see. Is that all you have to share?”
“Why are you looking into him?”
“I just want to know the truth.
Who is Drifter? What happened to him? What is his connection to the demons?”
“I see, well before you go. There’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“I can’t remember his face.”
“Excuse me?”
“I maybe old, but I’m not that forgetful. I remember the looks of the people as they screamed in terror, the monster that nearly killed us all, but the kid’s face? Even after seeing those videos, I can’t remember what he looked like back then.
For all I know, that might not even be the same kid from five years ago, but I like to believe it is.”
“Strange.” Richard thought. “The footage didn’t show Drifter’s face either, it was all in shadows, but I saw the old man’s face just fine. What’s going on?”
“There were plenty of other demon attacks after that first one, especially near the houses up the road on Mound Street. I’d look there next, if I were you.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a great help.”
“Great, now do me a favour and get the hell out of my house.”
“Y-yes sir.”
With this new lead, Richard drove to Mound street. Based on his theory, if the demons were following Drifter then it would be safe to assume that the increased demon activity in the area would imply Drifter lived in this town, possibly on Mound Street.
He was so close to finding the truth, it wouldn’t be long before he figured out which house was Drifter’s and from there, he'd solve the mystery of his identity. However, what greeted him when he finally arrived crushed those dreams to tiny pieces.
He climbed out of his car and simply stared in disbelief.
“No way…”
One of the houses had been burned to ash and left in ruin. There was nothing to salvage, save for a pile of charred rubble.
The trail had gone cold.
Chapter 12: Not Human
✽✽✽
“Hey, Catherine? Pass me the remote.”
“Grandpa, you knocked it on the floor, again? Just pick it up, it’s right by your feet.”
“But, my back hurts…”
Tired of the old man’s whining, Catherine got up from her groove in the sofa, slumped over to her grandpa’s chair and handed him his precious remote. He was always like this, even before the back pain. Any excuse to not get out of his chair he’d take without a second thought. Being retired was a blessing for him.
“Thank you, dear.” He humbly praised.
“I don’t recall the doctor saying your back pain was this bad.”
“It depends on how comfy I am.”
With the remote firmly within his grasp, Grandpa was ready to spend the rest of the night channel surfing, that was until his lovely wife called for him in the kitchen.
“Harold! The sink’s blocked again!”
“The plunger’s under the sink, Anne!”
“I tried that already! You come have a go!”
“But, I have to rest my back!”
“You’re not crippled, Harold! Get in here!”
“Oh, bugger…”
Harold pulled himself up, unable to exaggerate his back pain any longer, passing the remote back to Catherine.
“Here you go, this might take a while.”
Catherine was left alone in the living room, the power of the remote lying on her lap. She mindlessly skimmed through channels, but nothing interested her.
In an age where everything was readily available for her to
watch online, TV wasn't all that appealing anymore, but she couldn’t be bothered to get up either, so TV was making a temporary comeback.
She continued flicking through channels until she landed on the news. The presenter seemed to be in a debate with some cloaked weirdo over the current issue of demon attacks transpiring throughout the country.
On the one side, the strange guest argued that demons simply needed to be shown kindness and cooperation instead of resistance and that the population would be better off if they were more open towards letting demons into their lives.
The presenter disagreed, arguing the contrary. That demons were monsters with no respect for humanity, who deserved nothing but contempt. Any kindness shown towards them would be taken advantage of and would lead to unnecessary suffering.
These were the two sides dominating the discussion surrounding the demon issue that had engulfed the news media over the past few years. Absolute altruism and idealism versus adamant opposition and pessimism.
When Catherine first heard that demons other than herself had shown up, she was thrilled, but that quickly turned to fear when all she saw were monsters destroying people’s lives. She felt caught in the middle of a war she never wanted any part of.
As the debate continued, the men grew more detestable. The guest’s idealistic preaching sounded nice, but offered no real solutions to the problem, offended by the very idea of humanity fighting back against their invaders. He seemed more interested in looking righteous and just, their reputation being more important than providing any real answers.
No amount of lofty preaching or moral grandstanding would change the fact that there were demons that killed and destroyed just for the pleasure of it, treating humanity like an infestation that needed exterminating.
Catherine had already come to terms with the reality of the situation and watching the pompous preacher ignore these issues, to save his own ego, was infuriating.
The presenter was no better. While he provided a more realistic take, he still perpetuated the narrative that all demons were evil scum that needed to be destroyed. The public were already terrified and this fear mongering only served to make life more difficult for everyone, breeding paranoia among the populace.
She never cared for the media’s opinion. Catherine never looked down on humans as inferior beings. Her own grandparents were human, they may not be related by blood, but she still loved them anyway.
But, not caring didn’t change the reality she lived in. A reality where all demons were seen as enemies or worshipped by fanatics. A reality where she had to keep her true self hidden for fear of her life and her family’s.
Stuck on the sidelines, Catherine could only watch as the two ideological extremes clashed over and over again, deepening the divide between the people, with moderate voices drowned out and ignored. Whichever side won, Catherine lost.
Her grandpa returned and gently held her shaking hand.
“Cathy, you’re eyes are turning red.”
Catherine’s eyes became scarlet whenever she was especially upset. Even if she tried to hide it, her demonic nature would always find a way to seep through her human facade, but after being comforted by her grandpa, she soon calmed down and returned to normal.
“Sorry… these stupid assholes pissed me off…”
Harold looked over at the TV.
“What are you watching this crap for? This is just tabloid nonsense. The people that go on these shows all talk bollocks anyway.”
“I just sorta stumbled onto it.”
“Well, you can’t let it get to you. Most people aren’t stupid enough to believe everything these idiots say.”
“Yeah… doesn’t change the fact that I have to keep it a secret. God knows what would happen if anyone found out I was a demon...”
“Maybe a nice walk will help you let off some steam.”
“Why a walk?”
“Well, how else are you going to get the sink cleaner?”
He gave Catherine a handful of money.
“Pawning your chores off on me again?”
“Yep.” Harold laughed to himself. “But, seriously, the fresh air will do you good. Take your mind off all this demon tripe.”
“Alright, I’ll head out then.”
Whenever she ventured outside, Catherine always made sure to keep her demon parts covered. This meant wearing her beanie to cover her horns, along with an extra layer of bandages, in case the beanie somehow fell off, wrapping her tail around her waist, disguising it as a belt and of course, keeping her temper under control to avoid the red eyes.
Disguising herself wasn’t an issue, but changing her behaviour slowly wore her spirit down over the years. Always presenting herself as an almost emotionless, anti-social husk, just to keep her true feelings from accidentally exposing her demonic nature.
At the store, Catherine wandered over to the cleaning products, but was faced with a conundrum.
“Crap. Was there a specific brand she wanted, or...? Aw fuck it, I’ll just take this one.”
She grabbed her cleaner and headed to the counter, but stopped as it came into view.
“Dammit.” She muttered. “Gerry’s working the counter again. I don't wanna deal with his shit right now…”
Gerry, the twenty year old doofus who believed he was a hit with the ladies. There was only one way out of this predicament and it wasn’t pretty.
“I’ll have to use the self-checkout.”
Catherine steeled herself for the battle ahead. She snuck over to the machine, ready to roll the dice on whether the damn thing would work or spit in her face as it refused to accept anything but the highest quality of barcodes to scan.
She scanned the sink cleaner and it was thankfully approved. She was past the first stage. She confirmed her purchase and payment option using the touch screen buttons. They were sticky and required an excessive amount of force to register any of her inputs, but after tapping the screen repeatedly, she forced her way through.
Gerry hadn’t noticed her yet and all she had left to do was hand over the cash. She inserted the pound coins into the slot and finished her purchase, as the change jingled into the slot below, Catherine readied her bag, took her receipt, crumpled it up, tossed it and placed her sink cleaner in the bag.
Suddenly, there was a ringing sound, a dull siren calling out to any nearby employees. Spooked, she looked up and saw the light next to the machine blinking, exposing her position.
“Are you fucking-!”
“Hey, it’s you again.” Gerry greeted.
Catherine was beyond mad, she couldn’t believe her god-awful luck, but she couldn’t show it, lest she destroy the machine in a demonic rage. She had to keep it bottled up for now.
“H-hey…”
“Having trouble with the auto-checkout again?”
“Ye-yeah…”
“This thing’s always playing up. You should have just come to me from the start.”
“...”
“Let’s see… I think the weight measurer for the bagging area is what’s causing it, let's just turn the alarm off and I’ll let you go.”
“Thanks…”
“No problem… so, just sink cleaner, huh? Having trouble with your plumbing, or something?”
“Yeah…”
“Yeah… you know… I know a thing or two about plumbing, maybe I can come over and take a look sometime… if you want…”
“Uh… that’s okay, I should really be going.”
“Oh, sure… come again.”
Catherine exited the store, as red as her hair, embarrassed beyond words. It happened every time. What Gerry mistook for shy infatuation was just Catherine trying to keep her emotions in check. She felt terrible for accidentally dragging him along like that, but she couldn’t think of any other way to handle the situation.
It was already night time when she left, but now it was really getting late. Still, at times when she needed cooling off, she took the long way home, to the enclosed field
by the boating club, without even thinking of the possible dangers. The sounds of the river and the surrounding trees made it feel like her own hidden sanctuary, away from the rest of the world.
However, with the current demon problem came the advent of opportunistic criminals taking advantage of the demon’s presence to commit crimes and cover them up as demon attacks and Catherine’s hidden sanctuary had been desecrated by such a ploy.
Shrouded by the shade of the trees Catherine discovered a body, laying still in the fallen leaves. Concerned, she checked on them, but they were already dead. She felt sick, this was the first time she'd ever seen a real corpse.
However, touching the man caused the skin on his cheek to melt and stick to her fingers. She freaked out and flicked it off. Catherine didn’t understand what happened, but she instinctively reached out as the man’s skin bubbled slightly in response. She didn’t know why, but she was somehow manipulating the man’s dead cells through some kind of innate demonic power.
“Who’s there!?” A hooded thug, appeared behind her.
As they came closer, Catherine showed no fear. Her body was far stronger than any human’s, but she still preferred to avoid any kind of physical confrontation. She wasn’t sure to what extent her powers could be used, nor did she want to find out.
The man pulled out his knife. “Excuse me, but could we talk for a moment?”
“Pretty brazen of you to just whip out a weapon out in the open like that.” Catherine stated, unimpressed.
“Well, you’re pretty brave coming into my territory at this hour. You must be new.”
“No, I’ve lived here a while.”
“Oh… well you must be living under a rock. You haven’t heard the rumours?”
“I’m not a fan of gossip.”
“Or, maybe you just don’t get out much.”
“Pardon!?”
“Calm down, lady, or the scary knife demon that haunts the forest at night might get you.”
“Knife demon?”
“Yeah… they say it shows up and demands an offering from its victims, if they ever get near its territory. Those that refuse, end up like that poor soul over there. Tragic really.”
