Consequence

by C R Langille

  Evard searched the desk but didn’t find any keys. The next room only sported cleaning supplies. The discordant moan of an organ rattled through the church building. Everyone froze. The organ sounded off again and echoed through the halls. It didn’t have a tune or a melody, but every few seconds it would blast through the church.

  “What is it, Mommy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Doyle closed his eyes and nodded his head to some unheard song. He raised his arms and conducted an imaginary orchestra.

  The organ moaned again, and from the cacophony, Evard picked up something recognizable.

  “Is that?” he asked.

  As if in answer, the chaos crystalized. The main theme from Phantom of the Opera rang into being.

  “I’m pretty sure those things can’t play the organ,” Evard said.

  “I once saw a chimpanzee play an accordion,” Doyle replied.

  Evard shot him a look and then moved down the hallway. Linda rushed up behind him.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “There might be other survivors like us,” Evard said.

  “Do you think it’s wise to go find them?”

  Evard stopped. Was it wise to meet with others? They always said strength in numbers. Kelly loved big gatherings. She would always make the best mashed potatoes for such events. Lots of people, lots to eat, she would say.

  “Lots of people, lots to eat,” Evard said. Yet he wasn’t sure of the connotation the saying took on given the current events.

  Doyle pushed past them and moved to the large double doors that led to the center of the church. Evard followed close behind. Lights flickered on the other side of the wooden doors. He crept up and put his ears against the hardwood.

  “It’s hard to tell if anyone’s moving around. The music drowns everything out,” he said.

  “Only one way to find out. Well, I guess multiple ways, but I prefer this way over the messier ways. Plus, we don’t have a rocket launcher,” Doyle said.

  The special agent winked at Sebastian and kicked the doors. The thump cracked through the hallway and reverberated along the walls, but the doors didn’t budge.

  “Works better in the movies,” Doyle said and tried the handle. The door unlatched and opened to a big room. Pews sat on either side of a center walkway. Dozens of people sat in the seats and faced away from them. A few of the people slumped over as if praying or sleeping.

  A young man with blonde hair, a white shirt, and slacks was tied up on the podium. A rope gag ran over his mouth. The man tried to say something when they walked in, but it came out as muffled gibberish, drowned out by the organ.

  Another man, overweight and balding, sat at the organ. He wore a tired expression, amplified through his sunken eyes. A red stain ran down the center of his shirt, a red stain that definitely wasn’t ink. He finished the song and turned to Evard and the others.

  “No applause?” he asked.

  The man’s voice held a gentle tone but didn’t do anything to soothe Evard’s anxiety.Evard stepped forward and put himself between the organist and the others. Doyle stepped up next to him.

  The gagged man made more noise while he squirmed around on the carpet. The organist smiled a grin of ice coated with honey. He stood up and walked from the organ to the young man and adjusted the gag.

  “Please forgive Elder Mayberry, he’s a little out of sorts.”

  “Who are you?” Evard asked.

  The organist opened his eyes wide and put his hands out.

  “Please forgive me, how rude. I’m Bishop Ivan Thomas,” he gestured to the pews, “I’m afraid you’ve missed Sacrament, but I’m sure I can still accommodate you.”

  Doyle moved closer to the Bishop. Evard stopped Linda and Sebastian and kept them back.

  “This is no good. No good at all. You’ve strayed from the path Bishop,” Doyle said.

  “To save ourselves, we must embrace God and His will. Are you ready for the Sacrament?”

  Evard glanced to the pews. All the people held a small white paper cup. A red liquid stained the inside of the cups, and yellowish foam dripped from their mouths. Most sat with a glazed, hundred-yard stare in their dead eyes. Evard looked away after he spied three young girls in their Sunday best curled up to an older woman.

  “We need to get out of here,” Evard whispered.

  Linda took in a sharp breath and clutched Sebastian close.

  “Come on, buddy, don’t look at the people,” Linda said.

  “Why?” Sebastian asked.

  “Listen to Mommy.”

  Sebastian wrestled away from her grasp and took a step forward. Evard readied himself to grab the boy. The little man stared at the pews.

  “Why would you do this?” Doyle asked. “It wasn’t their time.”

  Bishop Thomas made a steeple with his fingers and walked to the edge of the podium.

  “I simply offered them salvation. Now they can transition in peace.”

  “I’m Special Agent Doyle L. Johnson, ID Hogs-Papa-Lindburger 3-15-3, and you are under arrest for the murder of all these people.”

  Bishop Thomas continued to smile.

  “They’re all dead. You killed them,” Sebastian said. The words came out faint at first. “You killed them all!”

  The boy shook. He continued to stare at the dead, and his hands opened and closed. Linda rushed to his side and pulled him into a big hug.

  “Look away buddy, it’s okay.”

  “No! No, it’s not okay. He’s a bad man. Like the monster that lived in the corner.”

  “No child, I’m not a monster. I’m a savior,” Bishop Thomas said.

  Evard pointed his gun at the man. He pulled the hammer back as he moved closer.

  “Not one more word, Bishop. Or I’ll send you straight to hell.”

  The Bishop opened his arms out wide and smiled.

  “We’re already in hell.”

  Doyle moved close enough of to pull the gag off Elder Mayberry.

  “Bishop Thomas, you’ve gone insane,” Elder Mayberry said with a deep breath. “He tricked us. I tried to stop him.”

  Doyle finished untying him.

  “I’m afraid Elder Mayberry has had a lapse of faith.”

  Sebastian cried against Linda’s shoulder. The hairs on Evard’s arm stood on end, and the familiar tingle of energy licked his ears.

  “Linda, calm him down,” Evard said.

  Doyle sniffed loudly, licked his finger, and then put in the air. His eyes widened.

  “Oh no, don’t channel. Not with one so close.”

  “One?” Evard asked.

  Orange light flooded through the window at the far end of the room. The ginger glow moved from window to window.

  “Knock, knock,” Doyle said.

  Sebastian no longer shook, but he continued to cry into his mother’s shoulder. The tingle of power fled Evard’s senses, and he let out a breath. He went to comfort the little guy when something caught the corner of his eye. Evard stopped and scanned the pews. A crack sounded off in the middle of one of the pews, as if someone popped a knuckle, only louder.

  “Doyle?” Evard asked.

  “Special Agent, please. Need to be professional around strangers.”

  Another crack and pop. One of the little girls twitched and shuddered. The weight of dark energy licked his skin. They needed to leave, fast.

  “Special Agent Doyle?”

  “Yes?”

  All three girls spasmed as if being electrocuted.

  “Is that normal?” Evard asked.

  One of the little girls stopped their jittery dance. Her head twisted sideways, and she looked directly at Evard like a curious dog. Her arms snapped as they cranked in their sockets. Her legs followed suit, as if she had realigned herself the wrong
direction. Then, she crawled up to the edge of the pew on all fours and perched, a twisted gargoyle of flesh. She opened her small mouth wider and wider until the skin tore and the jaw dislocated. The girl let out a scream, which started in a low moan and amped up into a shriek. Evard covered his ears as the scream dominated his senses and cracked the nearby windowpane.

  “Normal only because the euniphrite is near. Otherwise, no. No, it’s not normal at all,” Doyle said.

  The girl’s two sisters snapped and cracked. Bones twisted and popped as limbs curled and angled into impossible positions. The other two perched on an opposite pew and took up similar cries.

  Then they stopped their song and stared with the same dead, glazed look they’d had as their life passed to the other side.

  “Linda, bring Sebastian,” Evard said.

  The rest of the people started to wake and as one turned their heads to look at them. The orange light disappeared from outside the windows, but the crash from the main doors didn’t bring much hope to Evard.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Toby drove in silence. It used to be the kind of silence he treasured. Generally, Sebastian would be asking a million cute but annoying questions.

  Why are there so many signs? Why did they pick red to mean stop? Where does red come from? Who made up the word red?

  After a while, he would tell him to be quiet and keep his silly questions to himself. Now, he would give anything to answer those questions. Ask me anything, buddy.

  Jezebel remained quiet as well, and the others manifested as a small buzz in the back of his mind. It was great his newfound friends were silent, but on the flipside, it let his imagination fly at high speed with low drag.

  What happened to Linda and Sebastian? Were they okay? Were they still alive? Toby tried not to think about it and focused on the road, but it was like he tried to ignore his old instructor at basic military training. Staff Sergeant Pine enjoyed getting right up in his face and would yell so hard that spit came out the man’s mouth like a sprinkler. What is your major malfunction Airman Warner? Lock it up, clown! Where’s your damn reporting statement?

  Toby rounded the final corner of the canyon with memories of basic training heavy in his mind. Gigantic wind turbines spun with a lazy turn as the mountains exhaled cool air. The blades didn’t look so big installed and upright; however, Toby once drove past a semi-truck on the highway that pulled one of the blades on a large flatbed trailer. It was more than three car lengths, so the fact the wind could move the fans at all amazed him. How much energy did those things put out anyway?

  Utah Valley came into view, and Toby slowed the vehicle down—the valley was a war zone. Fires raged in dozens of locations, and their dots of light flickered against the dark backdrop. The evening sun sank behind the western mountains and painted the sky in a soft palette of pinks, blues, and fiery orange.

  Kind of pretty, don’t you think, Love?

  “Almost like looking at the stars from a different angle,” Toby said.

  The traveler came from the stars. The traveler will return to the stars. But not before everything is dead and gone. Including your son, Toby Dick. Best if we devour him now and save the little shit the suffering. What do you think, Airman Warner?

  Toby took in a deep breath. He tried to lock the others away deep in the recesses of his psyche. Their screams, cries, shouts, and whispers faded into a buzz once again.

  He punched the accelerator and surged down the road. The buzz got louder and louder. If it continued, Toby thought it might burst from his skull at any minute. His vision blurred, and the air in the vehicle’s cab thickened to molasses.

  “Fuck me.”

  There was no way he could safely drive in such a condition. He pulled the vehicle over, killed the ignition, and stepped out into the crisp evening air. The cold was nice against his forehead, which was sticky and hot. His stomach lurched, and he threw up until it hurt.

  They’re fighting for control, Love.

  “Bloody lovely, if you ask me,” Toby said.

  Making light of my accent now, are we?

  Toby was about to reply when a boom sounded off in the sky above him. Four fighter jets raced through the air. Another boom cracked overhead; the jets were going fast enough to break the sound barrier. Toby had spent enough time around aircraft, and he recognized the type—F-16 Fighting Falcons, probably out of Hill Air Force base.

  The four jets flew overhead, low enough he could almost make out the pilots. Toby clapped his hands over his ears as the fighters screamed by. His chest rumbled, and the car shook with the vibrations.

  A creature with leathery wings took flight from a small suburb of houses less than a mile away. It let out a roar that rivaled the jet’s engines. The scream hurt worse than the fighters but on a deeper level.

  The buzz in the back of Toby’s head increased, and his vision blacked out. His eyesight returned at a snail’s pace, but when he could see again, Toby found himself on his knees.

  A euniphrite, Love. This isn’t good.

  The buzz found a voice. Brock’s voice. Toby Dick, look at this marvel. The traveler’s servants are free from their bonds. We must pay tribute. Pay tribute with the viscera of your son.

  Visions of Sebastian splayed open on his garage workbench flooded his mind. The stink of open intestines clung to his nostrils, and he fought to keep the bile from coming up again. The fact he didn’t have anything in his stomach helped, but not by much.

  But you better be quick, Toby Dick. I think one of these things is about to make a meal of that little shit. Brock’s laughter echoed through the halls of his skull.

  “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

  The bray of machine gun fire cut through the sky. The creature stopped in midair, curled into a little ball, and then spread each limb out as if it were doing a jumping jack. A ball of orange smoke emanated from each hand and foot and then coalesced around its midsection. The sphere of smoke grew in size until it shielded the demon. The entire process occurred in the blink of an eye.

  It’s not a demon, Love. It’s much worse.

  The smoke ball lit up like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. Tiny explosions of light danced around the demon as the bullets hit the shield. The jets broke formation and veered away from the creature. The beast held a hand out, and all the smoke curled into its palm. There was a red flash, and lightning arced from its hand and hit the closest jet.

  The dark energy cut through the plane easier than paper and sheared the wing off. The jet dropped into a spiral, and smoke billowed from its engine. The canopy blew off, and the pilot ejected. Within moments, a parachute deployed. The demon…

  Euniphrite, Love, quit comparing us…

  …shot another bolt of the red lightning and hit the falling pilot. The man’s body exploded into small pieces and rained upon the earth.

  “Shit,” Toby said.

  He didn’t want to watch but couldn’t pull his gaze away.

  The pilot’s wingman veered around for another attack run. This time, the fighter let loose with a missile. The projectile sped toward the beast and left a trail of smoke in its wake. The euniphrite…

  …thanks, Love…

  …brought another shield in place just as the missile hit. The explosion lit up the morning sky with fire and shook everything nearby. Car alarms sang all throughout the nearby neighborhoods. The euniphrite went limp and fell out of the air.

  “Fuck yeah! Take that, you sonofabitch,” Toby said and pumped his arm above his head.

  The euniphrite dropped toward the earth but opened its bat-like wings up just before it hit the ground. With two flaps, it was back to where it was before.

  Toby stood in disbelief. How could anything take a direct hit and not be dead or dying? It didn’t make sense, and he started to get the feeling the fighter pilots were in over their head. The third F-16 let
loose with two missiles. The euniphrite hovered in the air and only occasionally flapped its wings to stay aloft.

  Something scratched at Toby’s mind, as if a dog tried to get in through a closed door.

  Look away. Quick!

  Toby turned away. The sky darkened, and a bitter cold nipped at his back. Two explosions echoed through the valley although somewhat muffled. Then a third, bigger explosion followed. Toby turned to look. The F-16 fell out of the air in a broken heap. The pilot or a parachute was nowhere to be seen.

  Only two jets remained. The creature let out a guttural laugh, which surrounded him like cling wrap. It made his skin itch and made him want to peel it away. The two F-16s split and came at the euniphrite from different angles. The first let another burst of machine gun fire rip. While the euniphrite summoned the orange smoke to protect itself, the second jet unleashed hell in the form of six missiles—its entire payload. While it maintained the wall of smoke in front, it pressed its other clawed hand toward the missiles. The lightning burst forth and hit the lead projectile. It exploded prematurely and captured the other missiles in the blast. It bellowed another chuckle, and then clenched its hand into a fist. An unseen force ripped the pilot from his aircraft. The jet spiraled to the ground and exploded.

  The euniphrite squeezed the man until he stopped struggling and then flung the limp body away as if it were nothing but a piece of refuse. The final jet came around once more and pointed itself directly at the creature. The roar of the jet engines shook Toby’s body as the plane broke the sound barrier. The beast shot out with lightning, but the pilot spun his jet around the oncoming bolt. It screamed in anger and let another bolt go. The F-16 dipped low and avoided the electricity. The euniphrite bellowed and made Toby’s knees tremble.

  Through it all, Brock’s voice crept through. Feel all the power, Toby Dick? Could be yours one day. We could show you how to harness that shit. Then think of how you could save your family? Nothing would stand in your way.