The Demon Train (Book #1 in the Rachel Payne Horror Series)

by Emily Ford

CHAPTER SIX

  A week has passed since Rachel arrived in California. The clear view of the beautiful Pacific Ocean from her sister’s house in Bodega Bay should be enough to relax and rejuvenate her. But Rachel’s sleep has still been erratic, and she is disturbed by vivid nightmares of the train horrors that keep her from sleeping soundly.

  “Did you see the body?” Kara asks as she places a home cooked breakfast plate in front of her sister.

  Jostled from her thoughts, Rachel notices the plate in front of her and is glad to smell eggs and bacon instead of sulfur. “Sorry, what?”

  Kara sits down at the table with her own plate, watching her drowsy sister. “Did you see the body, of the guy on the train that killed himself?”

  “Oh. Yes, I did.”

  Kara shudders. “That must have been terrible. I’m sorry that happened. It had to happen to you!”

  “Yeah,” Rachel says quietly staring at her plate.

  “Have you heard why he did it?”

  “No. I don’t really want to think about it,” she says, eyes pleading with her sister to change the subject.

  “Okay,” Kara says, taking a sip of her coffee. Noticing her sister’s downtrodden mood, Kara thinks of ways to cheer her up. “Do you want to go see a movie this weekend?”

  “Yeah!” Rachel says, perking up. “You know I can’t say no to a movie,” she says with a warm grin.

  “Good.”

  “You sure you and Mike don’t have to work or anything?”

  “Nope. I’m my own boss, remember?”

  “Yes you are!” Rachel says.

  Kara, a successful self-published author, has fulfilled her lifelong dream of becoming a writer for the past five years. Her husband Mike is one of the best forensic computer hackers in the world. Both of their careers are highly lucrative, and in their generosity they have offered to support Rachel financially while she gets back on her feet from the divorce. While it is difficult for Rachel to accept help financially, with some convincing from their mother Naomi, Rachel has decided that she needs to accept their offer, at least for now.

  Despite being close with Kara, Rachel doesn’t feel comfortable talking about what happened on the train with her. She feels it would make her look like a lunatic in Kara’s eyes, and she doesn’t want to bring any sort of negativity into the house with her. However, she feels that she needs to talk to someone. She also knows someone needs to talk to her.

  Later that evening, Rachel nervously paces a dock at the Bodega Bay wharf after finally making the call that day. She loves watching the sun slowly sink beyond the vast ocean horizon, a sight that rural southern Ohio could never have offered. A strong, chilly breeze lifts her hair and whips her sweater around her. She shivers, and wraps her sweater tight against her. She’s deep in thought when she hears his voice behind her.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” the familiar voice says.

  She turns to face the Priest. He appears slightly more relaxed than he had at the train station the week before, but he still commands a quiet intensity.

  “I admit I wasn’t really looking forward to it,” she says, looking down at the dock.

  “My name is Father James.”

  Rachel nods, trying hard to withhold any judgment about his true intentions.

  “You look tired. Are you sleeping at all? Are you having nightmares?”

  Taken aback by his forwardness, Rachel glares at him. “That’s a little intrusive, don’t you think?” She softens after considering that he might be able to help her. “How do you know I’m having nightmares?”

  He nods, expecting her answer. “You’ll have to learn to push those out of your mind.”

  Anxious and confused, Rachel lets out a nervous laugh. “What do you want from me?”

  “I need you to tell me what happened on the train.”

  She looks off the side and decides to test him. “Some guy shot himself. And five people got food poisoning. I’m sure it’s not the first time something like this has happened.”

  “That’s not the real truth, now is it? And the food poisoning, that’s what he made everyone believe.”

  “Who?”

  “Rachel, we don’t have much time. Things are happening faster now. The process is speeding up.”

  “Process?” she says, recalling how Don used the same word on the train after killing the other five passengers. She stares intently at the dock as her mind vividly replays the incident.

  “Did it talk to you?”

  She’s startled by the Priest’s question. “What do you mean, it?”

  “Whatever it was, it was most likely a subordinate. If it had actually been him, things would have gone… differently.”

  “A subordinate? I’m sorry, Father, what is going on here? How do you know that something strange happened on the train?”

  “What did it say?”

  “It… he… I think he was possessing a young man, Don, the train steward. It’s like he talked Wayne into shooting himself. And then he killed those five people… all he did was snap his fingers and their heads exploded…” she shudders as she replays sight and sound of the passengers’ exploding heads. “It was horrible. But afterwards, it’s like none of it ever happened. The five people were alive, with food poisoning, but still alive. And Wayne was found in his room, not in the dining car where I saw it all happen.”

  “There was only one casualty reported on that train, the man that shot himself. That means he was putting on a show with the other five. And with you as the only survivor in that incident, it means the show was for you.”

  “What? Why?” She stumbles away from him as if distance between herself and the Priest would dampen the fear and dread filling her soul.

  Ignoring her questions, Father James continues with his interrogation. “What else can you tell me?”

  Unhappy about having to recount the entire horrific trip, the Priest seems to be depending on her answers for something. She decides to tell him.

  “The whole trip was like a nightmare. I couldn’t eat, the food smelled like sulfur. I couldn’t sleep, I had terrible nightmares and there were other incidents where I heard things that I swear were real. I had met all those people before the tea party-“

  “Tea party?” Father James interrupts.

  Rachel laughs. “Yeah. That’s how Don got me into the dining car, there was a note in my room inviting me to the tea party that evening. All the others received a note too, but theirs said different things.”

  “Creative,” he says casually. “Please continue.”

  “They all seemed normal to me, those six passengers. But when we were all together, Don started telling a story that turned out to be his way of calling those people out on their… he called them secrets. Some had murdered people, or caused terrible things to happen. All of their crimes were different, but all were terrible.”

  Father James appears to drift away in thought.

  “Are you listening?” she says inquisitively.

  He clears his throat. “Yes, yes. It sounds as if he rounded up ripe group of sinners, and made you watch as he punished them.”

  “Oh!” she exclaims, remembering a common element from her encounters with Don. “He kept saying I smelled like jasmine. But I don’t wear anything smelly. Does that mean anything?”

  Father James chuckles. “Yes. Just as you smelled sulfur around this demon, the demon smelled jasmine around you. It’s like both sides have scent markers. With them, it can be sulfur, or the smell of rotten flesh. With people like you, it has been described as the scents from the time of Jesus. Jasmine, sandalwood, frankincense.”

  “Wow, so everyone has a smelly calling card?” she laughs at her own joke.

  “Not everyone. The demons, the devils, they have their scent. The more powerful the demon, the stronger the scent. Likewise the more righteous the human soul, the more powerful the scent is to the demon.”

  “How does
that work, if we can smell each other coming?”

  “It can complicate things for us, at times.”

  Rachel is becoming overwhelmed by their conversation. The thought of demons being real, and the idea that they can identify her because she emits an undetectable odor to them, seems both outrageous and frightening.

  “And the demon. This steward named Don. How did you know he was evil?”

  Rachel turns and walks away from him, fighting to maintain control over her emotions, which are clashing violently with her strong urge to discount everything that happened as nonsense so she can get back to a normal life.

  The Priest pursues her the rest of the distance down the dock, where she runs out of room to run.

  “How did you know it was evil?” he persists firmly.

  “I just knew, all right?”

  “Yes!” He utters emphatically. “You knew the evil spirit like you would know a relative. It is second nature to you. That, Rachel, is what sets you apart from almost every other human on this planet.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? That I’m some sort of magnet for evil?”

  “In a way, yes. And now that it knows you personally, it will be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. That is why I need your help.”

  “But why me? What did I do to deserve this? I’m not a bad person! I’m not evil, why would it want me?”

  “Because the ultimate challenge for evil is to bring down that which is good. Your faith, the choices you make in your life to be obedient to Him and to follow the path of righteousness makes you one of Heaven’s warriors.” The Priest runs his hands through his salt and pepper colored hair. “Consequently, you’re a walking target.”

  “But I don’t even go to church,” she laments. “I’m no saint!”

  “That doesn’t matter. Some of the most evil people go to church every Sunday. Simply going to church doesn’t rectify any sin. You have to be truly good and faithful in your soul to be truly Christian. And, most importantly, you have to be able to say no to the voices of evil.”

  “Father, on the train, the young man Don… or whatever it was… he told me the stakes would be higher next time. He said I couldn’t say no to it forever.”

  The Priest sighs heavily. “Of all the lies it told you, Rachel, that was probably the only real truth. The stakes will be higher now.”

  “When it was happening… I was afraid of it… I was really afraid, but, at the same time, I felt calm. It’s like I knew that I was safe, that I was going to be okay. But I also knew everyone else wasn’t. I felt… protected by something.”

  “The others have said similar things,” he says.

  “Others?”

  “There are others like you. Not many, in the scheme of things, but I pray there are enough of you.”

  Rachel runs her hands through her hair, twirls a strand around her finger, then sighs. “Okay. It knew things about me, personal things from my life. How?”

  “They are always watching all of us. They can look into your mind and your memories and use them against you.” he says.

  “And by ‘they’ you mean… evil spirits?”

  “All spirits. God. Angels. Good spirits. Demons. Evil spirits. Subordinates of Satan. They’re all watching, all the time, and they’re always talking to us.”

  “What do you mean, talking to us?”

  “I mean every thought in your mind is influenced by one or the other. Think about the last time some negative thought rolled through your mind out of nowhere. For example, you were looking in the mirror and some little voice in your head told you that you’re ugly. When we take negative thoughts like that and internalize them, then act on them, we have manifested the will of Satan. He wants us to feel bad about ourselves. He wants us to hate, to hurt, to be depressed, to feel unworthy, and he wants us to follow those emotions with negative actions. It’s a vicious cycle that so many poor souls never get out of. Even good souls get caught in the trap.”

  “And it’s the same for positive thoughts? Is that God, influencing those?”

  “Yes. Love, positivity, mercy. That is God, his angels, and his good spirits talking to us, trying to get us to believe them instead of the negative voices. There is a constant battle of the mind going on in each and every human being ever born. That is where the battlefield begins for us all.”

  Rachel sighs. “This is all really heavy stuff,” she says.

  “There’s nothing heavier. Nothing more important. And nothing will change this. Either we turn a blind eye to this fact, or we face it and we fight on the right side.”

  Rachel gazes up at the sky. The soft pinks and oranges from the sunset have yielded to darkness. The sudden buzz of the dock’s light pole flickering on above them startles them both.

  The Priest looks to her with troubled eyes. “Will you help us?” he pleads.

  “Help you how?”

  “Work for us. We’re an organization within the church. Not many people know we exist, and we’d like to keep it that way. We need gifted people like you to help us track the strongest demons that are able to possess humans or manifest themselves in a harmful manner. Then we send them back to Hell.”

  “Sounds like a good television show,’” she says with a chuckle, trying to lighten up the serious mood. Father James isn’t amused. Embarrassed, she stops grinning and turns serious again. “Which church, the Catholic Church?”

  “All the churches. We’ll pay you, it’s not much, but it will sustain you. And you will need training.”

  “What kind of training?”

  “Rachel. Think about what happened on that train. It will never stop. That was a freebie, the next time, the deaths will be real. He will go after your family, people you love. He will find your weaknesses and exploit them. If you turn away now, I’m afraid for your life. And for the lives of all the people you could be helping.”

  Rachel considers his offer. She has no job, no money or possessions, and no dependents. Basically, she would be a perfect match for this “opportunity”, even though she’s not completely sure what it entails. She feels like she’s been given a second chance in life to start over. The marriage, house, cars, her old career, her infertility, and her subsequent divorce all left her with nothing but a blank page in a new chapter of life. And she can’t deny that she is irrevocably drawn to this dark and crucial mission. What did she have to lose?

  “Father, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “All my life I’ve felt that the only clear purpose I had was to help people. I don’t mean being a doctor or nurse, or a superstar volunteer in the community. But I mean, whenever someone around me was hurting, or needed help, I had this burning need to run to them and stop their pain. And protect them from being hurt anymore.”

  Father James nods. “You have the spiritual gift of mercy,” he says.

  “Why then, if my purpose is to help people, why am I suddenly a magnet for evil?”

  “Because while you wanted to deliver mercy to people you saw suffering, at the same time you were being drawn to the darkness that afflicted them. The pain, the suffering, the despair… all those things are of evil origins and you… you seek those things out, so that you can conquer them.”

  “You’re saying I’m attracted to evil?”

  “As a warrior seeks battle, so do you seek evil, so that you can extinguish it. That is your true purpose, Rachel. Not to bathe in the light, but to battle the dark.”

  Rachel laughs uneasily. “That’s a pretty unbelievable thing to think about,” she says, chewing on her lip.

  “It is what it is. You can fight it, but it will never go away. You’ll always be drawn to battle in that way.”

  What the Priest is saying is true, and Rachel feels it deep within her soul. The ordinary life she has lead up until now was never fulfilling. To imagine a life helping people by waging spiritual warfare on everything evil, now that sounds more like a life worth livin
g to her.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll work for you,” she says, satisfied that she is making the right decision.

  “Thank you,” the Priest says, relieved, but the air of concern never leaves him. “But it’s not for us,” he says, pointing up and gazing at the darkened sky. “It’s for Him. And everyone up there.”

  Rachel glances at the starless heavens and shivers. She can imagine that the amount of spirits and invisible beings around them must be vaster than the ocean surrounding them.

  “So when do I start?”

  “Tomorrow. You’ll come to the Catholic Church in Santa Rosa.”

  She sighs, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you, Rachel. I wish I could tell you that this is going to be… easy, or pleasant, but it will be anything but that. The rewards, however, are greater than you can imagine. And the work must be done if we are to survive this crucial period in time.”

  “You know, my life up to now has seemed… empty. I did everything I was supposed to do. I went to college, got a job, got married and had the house and cars. I tried to have kids but that didn’t work. And now, I have nothing. But at the same time, I always felt like there was something else out there, waiting for me to find it. Does that make sense?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, Rachel. I think you’re about to find out what that ‘something’ is.” He pulls a shiny object out of his pocket, and pulls at it to straighten it. It’s a necklace, a large round silver pendant on a long silver chain. He hands it to her. She strains to read the symbols on the pendant but the light from the dock pole isn’t strong enough for her to see it.

  “What’s this?”

  “When you come tomorrow, I’ll tell you what it is.” He smiles kindly and steps away from her. “Good night, Rachel,” he says.

  She watches him walk away from her, the ocean wind whipping his black coat and pants about his tall slender frame. She gazes in the dim light at the necklace in her hand, then squeezes her hand closed to protect the trinket.

  A final question burns in her mind and she calls after him. “Father, one more question?”

  He stops and turns towards her.

  She jogs towards him. “When I came off the train, how did you know who I was?”

  The dimness of the dock prevents her from seeing his face clearly, but he appears to be stoic.

  After a silent pause, Father James turns and walks away, calling over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

 

 

 

  CONTINUED IN “THE DEVIL’S CARNIVAL”

  BOOK #2 IN THE RACHEL PAYNE HORROR SERIES

 

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Emily Ford lives in southern Arizona. She loves scary movies, family, dogs, traveling, and Starbucks. She believes that there is spiritual warfare being waged around us, all the time, so why not write some exciting fictional books on the subject? 

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  www.emilyfordworld.com

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