by Richard Lee
Thoughts of his brother clouded his vision and he realized he had stopped walking near the gate marking the boundary of his property. His eyes were hot and watery. He had to put his brother away deep inside him until Penny was safe. Struggling, he managed to do that, but he still had no idea what to do with the girl. Her brain had shut down, leaving her in a dream state. She was near useless. He would have to think of something on the way to Area Fair.
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and unlocked the small gate.
People were everywhere. They were confused, dazed and some were injured. Some were holding towels against gashes on their head, arms and legs, too confused to find the medic aide kit. Teenagers were smashing cruiser windows, fighting neighbors. Two houses were on fire. Up the street he saw a group of five boys grab a woman and push her to the ground. He did not wish to see what was sure to happen next. He felt a hint of guilt for not trying to help, but no one else was helping, and what could he do at his age?
I have to keep the computer safe, yet I should...
He quickly moved on and crossed the street before the thought took hold. He saw people breaking into other houses and apartments. Screams were everywhere, from women and children both.
A smashed window caught his attention and he wished it hadn’t. A naked and blood covered teenage girl dropped five floors and smashed into the pavement not far from him. She bounced closer; her skull was cracked open. Her forehead was caved in, offsetting her facial features. Dead eyes stared at him as he back stepped and turned, running for the crossroad, where he would hopefully find sanity.
Rounding the corner, he felt he had stepped into Hell. Cruisers burned and people danced around the fire. They poured alcohol on each other’s heads and poured it into wide-open mouths, and they were screaming strange words. Houses burned like haystacks next to them. Women and girls were sprawled on cruiser hoods and scorched mattresses were scattered on front lawns. They resembled lifeless dolls. The animated ones were crying and blood covered their faces, but they still tried to fight off their attackers.
Professor Dale Cotter had never seen or heard of this kind of thing from a simple air raid. Was it a simple air raid, or something deeper? He vaguely remembered reading something similar to this when he was a university student. But the text and book escaped him at the moment. He was more worried about getting through this motley crüe unscathed.
He could detour around them. It would take an extra hour of walking, but he had a feeling most areas were like this and he knew the police wouldn’t get here. The inner city must be a shambles. All emergency services strained to breaking point.
No. He would simply have to take his chances, keeping his eyes on the ground and walking as casually as possibly through them.
“Hey ya darling, wanna joined the party?”
He turned and was startled to see his secretary, who was usually a very reserved woman in her early forties, wearing a black leather outfit and smudged make-up, carrying a whip in one hand and a bottle of something in her other. Her eyes were barely open and seemed unfocused. A section of her light brown hair was alcohol-pasted to her forehead. She clearly didn’t recognize him.
“Miss Foster, is that you?”
For an instant her eyes cleared at the sound of her name, but just as fast, fogged over again.
The professor had a wonderful idea that might just work.
“We got us some fresh meat over there,” she pointed behind her. She snorted and a smirk grew on her face, giving it some life. “She’s a little young but broken in, if you understand.”
The professor averted his eyes. “Not right now, Miss Foster. I wonder if you would accompany me to my cruiser?” He held out his hand.
She stared at it for a full minute before taking it and asking quietly, “Do I know you?”
And suddenly the verse he had read and learned in university came thundering into his head. The words were louder than the strange music and chanting going on around the fire.
Things made of Man, will burn in the street
Ordinary folk murders and pillagers they will be
Deathly vicious on quick shuffled feet
Children tossed over a blood soaked street.
Women, a man’s great release
All want to be as one with the beast
His time is now and glories to the dragon
A dagger of blood at his side
The beast to bring him forth
Nowhere left to hide.
Penny was lying on a bed of sand. Usually she was walking, but not this time. Around her were mountains of skulls. Snakes slithered through empty eye sockets. Spiders larger than her hand walked on eight legs two feet high. The smell of brimstone burned her nose. Sand dunes stretched out before her and like a ghost image, or a reflection against a window, she could see her room. The dull holo paintings of flowers, a boat on a sea of sand, and a holo light switch—thumb print controlled—wavered in the heat rising from the dunes. If she looked up, she would see a deep blue sky with a powerful sun and a ceiling.
Figures moved towards her. There were three of them. She called them demons, although she knew they weren’t. But could she truly trust what her eyes projected to her? One of the demons laid a silver tray on a table, which rolled above her legs. Only the top of the table and the food on the tray were visible. The happy needle wasn’t there, but she knew they would bring it.
This wasn’t such a bad place to be, Penny thought. Locked in a dream but always able to exit when the need arose.
They were feeding her now. She could see their hands and feet but nothing else. There was a thick steam wafting about them, which they did not seem to notice.
It was impossible to eat the food. How could anyone eat white worms still covered in clay? They moved a lot on her tray, and as one, they suddenly arched back and spat at her like cobras. The screaming brought the “white coats” back, they put a needle in her arm and she was happy again.
Her last attempt at feeding seemed like hours ago. The happy feeling was wearing off and she was thinking again and she didn’t want to think anymore. That’s why this place wasn’t so bad. It killed those thoughts.
She knew she could wake up, but if she did, how would she be able to get the happy needle? She needed that needle. She had seen what no one else had seen in Peter’s apartment. She had seen the beast and it had raped her. The beast’s hand had gone deep inside her and it had grabbed her womb.
Why?
That was a question Penny couldn’t answer. She had no idea why it had ripped her womb. But most of all, she had no idea why IT had shown its face to her. Its black face and green eyes. The yellow pointed teeth. The round chin. And its enormous...
Yep, the happy drug was wearing off and it was vanishing faster than before. She could feel it slowly leaking from her pores. Running with her tears as they streamed down her face. Sliding with the saliva she couldn’t control rolling over her slightly parted lips.
Yes, she needed the happy needle, because it made her forget about everything.
Penny was about to scream when she realized others were screaming. She also noticed the room was in darkness. The room was never in darkness before. Everyone knew darkness brought the beast. And there was also a sound. A sound she had never heard before but instantly knew the meaning.
Something was wrong.
Panic pricked at her like pins and needles in a sleepy arm.
She would have to wake up. It was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.
Slowly she cleared the images. The snakes, spiders, and dunes faded. The holo pictures took shape, the wavering heat instantly gone. The wall became solid and she could see the bed she was lying on. The dream’s images remained like ghost images on a window. It was an almost complete reversal of her previous state. She could see everything she wanted to see clearly now. Her white nightgown had patches of yellow stains on her thighs and stomach.
She could also see the brown leather straps pinning her to t
he bed. She was locked down tight. Her wrists were hard against the steel rails and her legs were spread open, each ankle strapped to the corner bedposts. And there was another one, she couldn’t see but could feel, around her neck. At least it wasn’t tight.
Penny suddenly realized anything could have happened to her in her dream state and she wouldn’t have noticed.
But one thing was for sure... She couldn’t move, couldn’t run away, and couldn’t save herself.
She could hear people screaming and feet pounding along the corridor. She heard people cry out as they fell or were shoved against the wall. A few times her door bumped open, but no one entered.
It sounded like mayhem out there and she was glad to be in the room. Here it was safe and sound for the time being. But terror was thundering around outside.
She kicked and pulled against the straps. The steel buckles held tight against the taunt leather.
The door flew open. A man wearing pajamas fell through the opening and hit the floor, landing on his side. Slowly he moved into a sitting position and rubbed his head. And then he started to mutter.
Penny couldn’t make out any words. It sounded like he was stringing vowel after vowel in one long breath. She watched him stand up. He started to swing his arms in large circles.
“Excuse me.”
He jumped at the sound of her voice. He stopped making circles, but didn’t turn to face her.
“I’m scared,” she said softly. “Could you undo these straps, please?” She shook her arms, hoping the sound might get through to him. She guessed he was a patient, which wasn’t a hard assumption to make. And more over, he looked harmless. “Please,” she said.
The man turned. He had one thick bushy eyebrow, which ran the length of his forehead, and long eye lashes shading piercing blue eyes. He wasn’t skinny and he wasn’t fat either, yet he filled the pajama top perfectly as if it had been made to his size. He shuffled closer to her and she realized he wore only one slipper. His eyes scanned her body, slowly. He stared at the stains on her nightgown. He tilted his head and one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.
“The straps?” She shook her arms again. He looked at the tanned leather with a growing smile and moved to the end of the bed. “What are you doing?” She didn’t need an answer and desperately wanted the happy needle. But it wasn’t coming and she knew she couldn’t get back to her dream state without it. She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed. “Oh, God, if you exist as Father Michael claims, please do something to help me. Please.”
“You fucked God off, he ain’t gonna help you.”
Penny’s eyes snapped open. The patient was standing at the end of the bed. His head was lowered so he could see up between her legs.
“You healed well,” he said, looking up at her. “Someone’s been at you though.” He kept the lopsided smile.
The eyes once startling blue were faded to a dull lifeless color. Suddenly green ran from the top of both eyeballs like paint, hiding all traces of blue and white. From the top of the eyes, a green so light in substance it seemed to glow like neon flowed around the iris while the black pupils stretched into a thin oval. The eyes of a snake stared at her as the lopsided smile faded into a frown.
“No. No. No.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” the patient replied. “You knew I had to come back if you healed. What? You didn’t think I was going to let you destroy him, did you?”
“Destroy who?” she whimpered.
The patient cocked his head as if he was listening to something she couldn’t hear.
“I don’t want to destroy anyone.”
The patient turned his attention back to her. “Can’t you hear it?” he asked. “The lovely sounds of warring nations, countries, worlds.” He breathed deeply. “It’s wonderful music.” He reached down and stroked her foot gently. “Right now, your United States government is in talks with this country. Williamson will be the deciding factor. None of that will matter in time. My boy will take care of him in due course.”
“Huh?”
Looking at her with contempt, his eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you go back to your dream state? I didn’t make you enter it, you did that by yourself. The war!” he yelled. “It’s raging now and almost at its peak. Forty percent will be wiped out by the blast. And another twenty-five percent by radiation and chemical overdose. Then “WE” will run the playground.”
“You mean...”
“Yes, my dear. And the best part is, he doesn’t even know it.” The patient laughed. “He thinks he’s about to publish again. It won’t happen. As soon as he reads the first three pages...” The words trailed off.
“What have I got to do with all this?”
“God needs a vessel.”
“I’m...”
“No.” The patient suddenly clasped a long blade dagger. Holding the hilt he raised it up. “If at first you don’t succeed...”
The door slammed against the wall. Penny saw the professor and his secretary tumble into the room. Another person was with them but he disappeared into the hallway. She could hear faint explosions far off in the distance.
The professor’s secretary had landed on her knees. She looked very different.
“...try, try again,” the patient finished.
Miss Foster scrambled up. Her eyes were suddenly clear and she dropped the bottle. The professor was frozen in place. His secretary moved fast.
“Good-bye.” He plunged the dagger down.
Miss Foster leaped across the bed. The dagger plunged deep into her stomach. She let out a wild scream of pain as her momentum slammed her into the patient and knocked him to the floor.
The professor stared at the patient struggling to escape Miss Foster’s death grip.
“Professor!” Penny screamed.
The voice broke the spell. He quickly went to her and untied the arm straps.
“Dale Cotter.” The voice was cold and hard.
The professor moved to the end of the bed.
The patient easily got to his feet. Miss Foster’s twisted body lay in a crumpled heap. “How dare you and the bitch interfere.”
The professor kept backing away until the wall stopped him.
The patient tore off his pajama top. Black skin glistened with sweat. The face warped and wavered as if a sudden blast of heat had erupted between the two. The patient’s face blackened, lips parted to make room for a mouth filled with pointed teeth. The patient’s hair fell in lumps to the floor. Shiny ivory horns broke through the skin, causing several lines of blood to run rampant down the side of his face.
With the speed of lightning, his hand whipped out and grabbed the professor by the throat.
Shocked into panic, by the unspeakable that surely didn’t exist, the professor threw punch after punch at the hideous creature without effect, although he knew he was striking hard. Trying another tactic, he attempted to pull the thing’s hands. Suddenly he was being lifted off the floor. His windpipe felt the full weight of his body. He felt it crushing in, restricting his intake of air.
The demon squeezed harder.
With his mouth open, the professor gaped like a fish out of water. Energy drained fast and he could no longer struggle against the strong hands crushing his neck.
Without warning, the demon screamed. His hands released the professor and flew into the air. His back arched, head thrown back. His face twisted in agony.
“Die, you bastard!” Penny screamed, pushing the dagger to its hilt. The tip exited the demon’s chest. White light streamed through the tear. The demon’s head shook wildly side to side.
The professor punched downward onto the tip. He felt the searing heat as the tip tore through his hand, but was happy at the same time when he saw the tip rip a centimeter of the thing’s chest.
The demon dropped to his knees. Harsh white light surrounded him, whirling across and through his body. The demon lowered his head until it touched the floor.
Penny grabbed the professor’s arm and dragged him to
the door.
“Professor, please, let’s go.”
She pulled the door open. The professor watched the demon burning in white light as he was tugged backwards.
The door swung shut.
“This way,” he said to Penny, taking the lead. “The cruiser’s parked at the back.”
They ran in the opposite direction of other patients crowding the hallway. Some headed towards the front exit; others were rushing about in mad zigzag patterns, unsure where to go. While still others ran in circles.
Behind them, an explosion sent Penny’s room door flying across the hallway. They stopped and turned around. Many people were lying unconscious, struck down by the smoldering door. Flames—bright orange and white—leapt from the room and licked the door frame.
Chapter Thirty Three
The initial shock wave of the first bomb and the constant thumping of others did not affect the church much, but the long dull sound of the emergency alarm drilled and echoed along the brick walls, thumped up and down stairs and slowly faded, only to be replaced moments later.
“Do you think it’s safe now?” Samantha asked, standing in the open doorway. Silence had reigned over the brightening sky for almost twenty minutes.
Steve stood next to her, watching the rush of cruisers driving past. Buildings he had seen most of his life were torn in half. Shattered glass glistened on the roadside. Down the street, people in suits looked lost and out of place in the sudden madness around them. Teenagers were drinking and shouting, starting fights and throwing large stones at cruisers parked or in motion.
“I don’t think it’s safe to go anywhere,” he answered.
Softly, Samantha said, “It’s all because of him.”
“Who?”
She looked at Steve and seemed to come to a decision. “I need your assistance for a short time. And maybe later I’ll tell you about it.”
“You said ‘him.’ That means one person. How could one person start all this?”
“He did, easily.”
“Come on, tell me what I got into with you. Are you talking about Williamson?”
