The Last Church

by Richard Lee

  The top half of Samantha’s finger was covered with blood. Steve dried it away and saw the tiny needle holes. They looked horrendous, exposing flesh to the room’s air. Must be giving her hell, he thought. But she’s not showing anything.

  “Computer. Holo keyboard please.” Immediately a keyboard appeared before Steve. He spun it to Samantha. “Allow user two access.”

  “Access granted, Steve.”

  “Thank you.” To Samantha he said, “Go ahead.”

  She nodded and typed in her access code. And then waited. The solidness of the wall wobbled. The wallpaper patterns melded with one another and formed a light grey. The words “ACCESS GRANTED WELCOME 61.765.897.0056 USER TWO” appeared on the wall. It was quickly replaced with “WELCOME SAMANTHA SYSTEM IS SEVENTY PERCENT COOPPERATIVE.”

  “Only seventy percent?” Steve asked.

  Samantha sighed. “I thought something happened to my house.”

  “But that was before the bombing.”

  Her typing was fast. Her fingers flew like the wind and her stance was one of complete concentration. Her legs were slightly apart and had a slight bend at the knees. Her elbows were pointed out and Steve could see the delicate movements of her forearm muscle as her fingers raced and each command poured through the computer system.

  “Got it,” she said a few minutes later.

  Steve took his attention off her and looked at the screen. He saw a large dagger. Above it, written in a strange script, were the words “Order of the Black Snake” and below the dagger were the words “The Re-Entry of Evil.”

  “What the hell is that?” Steve asked.

  “It was written a long time ago. I’m talking hundreds of years in the past. Father Small translated it into English. It’s a print book, but I scanned it onto the hard disk and then destroyed it. I didn’t want it lying around.”

  “Have you read it?”

  “No, not all of it. Never seemed to have the time.”

  “But you helped them?”

  “Yes, that’s how I met Father Michael, the kindest, sweetest man in the world.”

  “And what did this Order of the Black Snake do?”

  Samantha seemed reluctant to answer. When she did, the words came out slowly. “Well, for a lack of better words, we hunted Satanists.”

  Steve laughed. He didn’t want to, but couldn’t help it. When he finally got it under control he asked, “What did you do to these...Satanists?”

  “Convinced them to change their ways.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Every time.”

  Steve was quiet. He suddenly realized what she was getting at.

  Softly Samantha said, “Yes, Steve, we killed them.” Her head hung low. “But look around you. Look at what’s happening now. Remember the riots in town? How do you explain the empty streets of your own neighborhood? Jesus Christ, Steve, it’s all because of him.”

  “And who is this person?”

  “He has the same magnificence as the Morning Star, just not the same power.”

  “And how do you propose to find this guy?”

  Samantha pointed at the wall. “I’m hoping for a clue of where to start from this book.”

  “There has to be a faster way.”

  “Please enlighten me,” Samantha said curtly.

  Steve got up and gently put his hands on her shoulders. She started slightly at his sudden touch. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and lightly placed his head against hers. “Find this guy,” he whispered. “I’m with you one hundred percent of the way.”

  “Thanks, Steve, but I can’t do much with you hugging me.”

  “Oh, right.” He released her and took a seat against the wall. After a while he readjusted himself so he could also read the text. He found it hard to read. The text was in old English and it used the British style of spelling with ‘u’ and ‘e’ all over the place and used ‘e’ instead of ‘z.’ Steve quickly grew tired at reading the screen and his eyelids grew heavy.

  “Oh no,” Samantha said. She turned to face Steve.

  “What?” Steve stood.

  “It says, “He will find those who oppose him and use their enemy to destroy his.” He’s not like the others. He has power.” She continued reading. The screen pages turned rapidly. She shook her head. “Huh?”

  “What?”

  Samantha held a hand up to silence him. “Pages twenty-three, thirty-six, forty-eight and fifty-nine. Oh, and page twenty-six.” Five screens appeared next to the main window. Each displayed the text and were in chronological order. She highlighted several sections. “This is wrong.” Her words were more of a mumble, as if she was talking to herself. “The discrepancies are too many. There has to be another text, and I bet he has access to it. If not yet, then he will soon. He is going to bring the power of the beast to sit at the throne.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “I know I’m sounding a tad, umm, melodramatic. But, Steve, please, you’ve got to believe me.”

  Suddenly someone thumped on the front door. The sound froze the both of them. A moment later, another thump against the door, but louder and harder this time.

  “I know the two of you are in there!” It was Telly’s voice.

  “My enemy,” Samantha said.

  “Our enemy,” Steve corrected her.

  “We must get back to the church,” Samantha said. “He can’t find us like this.”

  The sound of splintered wood thumped into their room.

  “You go,” Steve said. “I’ll hold him off.”

  “No, we go together,” Samantha said and grabbed his arm. She ran for the window, but Steve wriggled out of her grip. She stopped. “What are you doing?”

  “I love you,” Steve said. “We can’t go together and probably were never meant to happen.” He turned and headed for the door. “You have to stop him.” With that he swung the door open and headed for the living room.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Samantha couldn’t believe Steve had just done that. He was no match for Telly and his goons. But he knew that, didn’t he? He was being a hero, being strong for her. She had misjudged him so long ago and was glad now for the time they had spent together. And hopefully after all this was over, maybe she would visit him. Surely Telly wouldn’t do anything too drastic. But she had a feeling she would never see Steve again, alive.

  No, she couldn’t let that happen. He had become a very important part of her life.

  Through the door, she heard shouts. Furniture was kicked over and something broke.

  She had to help him; together they could make it.

  She headed for the open door but before she made it any further, Steve flew in. He landed on his shoulder and quickly got to his feet.

  “I told you to go,” he screamed at her. “Do it!”

  Telly walked in. He was carrying a baseball bat. And with him were a man and woman.

  Instantly Samantha’s knees felt weak. She stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

  “Not quite,” the man said. “I’m the other half of the coin.”

  Steve charged the man. “GO!” he screamed at Samantha.

  She got to her feet and ran for the window.

  The man pulled a dagger from the back of his jeans. The woman next to him jumped away. Telly scooted to the wall. Telly was smiling.

  Steve crashed into the man. The man held him up and then the body doubled over. Blood splattered to the floor. Samantha screamed.

  Telly grabbed her.

  She took his arm and bent it backwards. A second later, she back kicked him between the legs. Telly dropped like a sack of coal.

  The man threw the limp body to the floor, flipped the dagger so he was holding the blade, and tossed it at her.

  Not thinking, only reacting, Samantha jumped through the window. The glass shattered and she cried out from the cuts.

  She hit the ground rolling. The dagger landed blade first in the grass next to her feet.
She bent down and tried to pull it out of the ground. It wouldn’t budge. She decided to leave it and ran for the church. Ran for safety.

  Peter held out his hand. He knew he had missed. The hilt of the dagger flew straight into his hand and he shoved it down the back of his pants. The crisscross pattern expanded as the body of Steve grew faint and disappeared. The blood on the floor vanished.

  “Man, you’re great,” Telly said, getting to his feet and holding his groin.

  Peter turned to Rachael. She was against the wall, her eyes closed. He went to her and drew his hands through her hair.

  “Hey,” he said gently. “This is only part of it. Soon we’ll have everything we want.”

  “But, do I want it?” she asked, near tears.

  To Telly, Peter said, “Follow her.”

  “How do I contact you?”

  “I’ll find you when I’m ready. As I found you earlier today.”

  Telly nodded and headed for the door.

  Peter kissed Rachael’s forehead. It was time to explore her body. To give himself fully to her. His energy was back and he felt like he did back in his own time. And he was going to make this time...his.

  Samantha ran. She ran as fast as she could. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had finally decided to make Steve a part of her. But he was there. The one to bring the devil to the throne in all his unholy glory.

  Tears filled her eyes at the loss of Steve. The way he had stayed with her through her near overdose. He was a champ and stronger than he knew. He had the will power to see everything through to the end. Only this time it had been his end. His end of life. And it was because of her.

  Somehow, she had brought him into her world and got him killed. She wasn’t even sure why he had come to her rescue at the bar. Why had he put his neck on the line for her? They barely knew each other. Maybe he felt more than she did from the start. Maybe his ass grabbing and comments were his way of saying “I like you.”

  I like you.

  God, he claimed to have loved her at the end. And she hadn’t listened to him, had she? She had to make the decision to fight together. And she had been late to do that. And now he was dead.

  If she hadn’t...

  Oh, there were too many “ifs,” and it was pointless wondering about what might have happened if... Whatever. It was pointless to think about that and it was slowing her down.

  Steve was dead and she wasn’t. The man whose name she didn’t know was here in this time and the text that the Order of the Black Snake trusted and followed was wrong. How had the order not known that, surely one of them must have noticed it? But then again, they were blind to the cause. As she had been.

  But not now, her eyes were suddenly open and the man had to die. It was up to her and Father Michael to stop him. But she didn’t know how. Maybe Father Michael had an idea, but she doubted it. One thing was for sure. He had to die in the church. That information was constant.

  Samantha slowed long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes. She was almost at the entrance to the city. From here she could hear the “party for the end” and it was her intention to stop that party. Someway, somehow.

  She slapped her face and shook her head. “Stop thinking,” she told herself. She took a deep breath and started off again, concentrating on her footwork and keeping her pace fast but steady.

  “Are you with me all the way?” Peter whispered to Rachael as he slowly led her to the floor. “Can I count on you to stand at my side?” They were on their knees and he started to run his hands up her thighs. The mini skirt raised up as his hands reached her buttocks. He gave a firm squeeze and tugged at her panties until he heard and felt them tear. “I need to know. Are we as one?” His hand moved to the front and stroked between her legs. Rachael shuddered. “Are we?” he whispered, inserting a finger.

  “Yes, Peter,” she moaned. “Yes, yes.”

  He smiled and made the firm decision to place all his trust in her. It could very well be an error, yet it was an error he was willing to make at this time.

  Samantha pushed and punched her way through the crowded streets. More people than before were here now. She wondered where they had all come from. And suddenly remembered the empty streets of Area Ten. The large crowd was growing fast and looked closer to the church than before. But that seemed stupid. Why would they head for a church?

  The shouting and screaming and mix of different kinds of music pushed at her ears and she did her best to block it out. The murmured chanting was almost hypnotic and twice she caught herself staring at the group, wanting to join them. Why? She didn’t know, just that she wanted to.

  It was hard to shut those sounds out of her head and even harder to block the images of rape and torture she saw almost everywhere. Somehow she managed to get past it all and found herself on the steps of the church. She had never felt such safety before.

  Behind her, a horn blasted and she jumped out of the way.

  A battered cruiser with a shattered windscreen, partially crushed roof and broken lights slid to a halt on the loose gravel.

  She moved closer to the cruiser to get a better look at the driver, concerned one of those loonies, or worse, Telly and his friend, had come to pay her a visit. She saw an antique laptop sitting on the backseat. No Telly.

  The driver’s door opened and a man in his mid to late fifties got out. The man rushed to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. Gently he helped a young lady out.

  “Is Father Michael at this church?” he asked, moving the girl to the front doors.

  Samantha nodded.

  “Would you mind assisting me?” He motioned toward the closed doors.

  “Oh, yeah, sure thing.” Samantha hurried in front of him. She swung open both doors and stood silent as they passed. The girl looked haggard and wore a flimsy, stained nightgown. They looked like father and daughter. But why weren’t they with the crowd? Why wasn’t she? “Because I’m a strong minded bitch,” she told herself.

  The man looked at her and then turned his attention back to the altar where Father Michael was praying.

  “Excuse me,” the man said.

  Father Michael turned around and Samantha saw the sudden shock of recognition flash across his face before worry took hold. “Oh, my Lord.” He was quickly on his feet. His hands clasped the daughter’s face gently. “Penny, what has happened to you?”

  The girl didn’t answer. Instead she released her hold on the man and hugged Father Michael. He patted the back of her head and made soothing sounds when she started to cry.

  “Who are you?” Father Michael asked.

  “Dale Cotter, her professor.”

  “What has happened?”

  Professor Cotter looked at the floor. “It’s a bit hard to explain,” he started. “Do you believe in the Devil, or demons and stuff like that?”

  “I guess I’d have to. Can’t have one and not the other.” He suddenly stopped and tilted Penny’s head back, to look in her eyes. He stared for what seemed like a long time, but was possibly only a minute, before saying, “Are you the one?”

  Penny nodded. “That’s what he said.” Her voice was near a whisper.

  “Oh my Lord, why did I not notice it? I’m such an old fool. It’s right there in your eyes. The soul of purity.”

  Samantha closed the left-hand door and leaned against it. The voices outside were getting closer and an edge of fear had finally sliced its way into her being. Thoughts of Steve returned with a vengeance and she finally admitted to having lost the real catch, the perfect match that everyone searched for.

  Lost?

  Not lost, she corrected herself, taken. Stolen from her.

  Samantha closed her eyes, hiding the scene at the altar. She knew she was crying, she could feel the hot tears squeeze past her tightly shut eyelids and dribble down her face, and no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut, the tears came out and they came out harder.

  At least she wasn’t making any sounds. She could still hear Father
Michael and the other guy talking, but she didn’t concentrate on the words. And soon the chatter blended into a soft muttering until she could barely hear them at all.

  She turned and faced the wall. Opening her eyes she made her way to the corner of the church. She squatted down with her back to the wall and hugged her knees.

  From down here, the pews hid her and she didn’t have to worry about Father Michael and his prodding questions. She doubted he knew of her return. When Father Michael prayed, he managed to block out all sounds except those of an emergency or a question directed at him.

  She hoped he did think she was still searching for the man with the dagger. In her present state of mind she didn’t think she could tell Father Michael that the book was wrong, or worse a fake. Was Steve sitting behind her when she made that discovery? She couldn’t remember.

  Closing her eyes again, she lowered her head to her knees.

  “Oh my Lord, why did I not notice it? I’m such an old fool. It’s right there in your eyes. The soul of purity.” Father Michael had spoken those words not so long ago.

  The soul of purity.

  ...why did I not notice it?

  It didn’t make sense. Why would Father Michael say something like that? He wasn’t just talking, and his voice betrayed any hint that he was playing with her. He had said exactly what he had meant.

  It was in the tone of his voice.

  Yes, his tone of voice told her something that only years of undercover work could teach anyone in her line of business...

  Father Michael knew more than he was letting on.

  And suddenly she knew.

  The translated book from the Order of the Black Snake was a fake. Only the translated book. The book she had scanned on her house computer’s hard drive. She should have known better. She had trusted them with her life. And they had lied to her. Now, Father Michael was the only one alive who knew the truth.

  How he knew was another question she had no answer for. He had to know, just had to. Why else would he send her on a mission, a search, if he knew what was going to happen?

  The answer came easily. He was protecting her as he had done so long ago. Samantha smiled. He got her involved to ensure her safety. Her smile faded. But Steve had died doing almost the same thing.