by Caleb Smith
“Well, I’m right here if you need anything.”
He thought of his sword and necklace gleaming under his bed. He had wanted to bring these pieces with him, but he knew there would have been no plausible explanation either for their purpose or how he had obtained such remarkable items. He wished he could explain all this to Wendy and confide in her about his dilemma.
Wendy finally emerged from under the jeep with a streak of grease smudged on her cheek, sprinkles of rust peppering her face. She held her small digital camera in the palm of her right hand.
“I think I got some good shots.”
“What do you need the pictures for?”
“I have someone about an hour away looking for an old CJ7 to refurbish. He just needs proof that the floor boards and frame are not in too bad of a condition.”
“Well how did it look?”
“It actually didn’t look too bad under there – some rust, but mostly just on the surface. I believe it’s salvageable. I think I can get at least three or four hundred dollars for it. Everything on the inside is original. The windows were still intact and rolled tightly. The interior was dry, but door hinges were rusted shut. It would take some effort open them. I’m now going to head back to the house to download these pictures to send out. Want to follow me?
“Sure thing.”
Wendy jumped on the Gator and drove it toward the front gates. Noah followed, but not too closely, as the ATV kicked up a lot of dry dust for him to chew on. Keeper didn’t care for it either, as she crouched low in the box, below the waves of dust that wafted back to her.
The pictures didn’t take long to send, and Wendy was babbling about something, but the words did not register in Noah’s mind. Instead, he was thinking about his upcoming appointment, wondering what he might learn. The evil men he had witnessed at the police precinct also came to mind, and he wondered what he might be called upon to do to stop them.
Wendy finished her last sentence with a question, and he hadn’t been paying attention.
“I mean, I don’t know Noah. What do you think?” She waited impatiently for his response for a moment, and then blurted, “Well?”
“I think it’s all good. You’re doing great?”
She looked away from the computer and over to him with a strange expression. “Are you feeling OK?”
“Sure. Great!” He disliked the idea of hiding anything from her, especially since she was vulnerable in the aftermath of her father’s injury. But at the same time, he felt that he was here for her physically, which was all he was capable of at the moment. It would have be good enough.
“OK, so let’s go down to the garage and see what Josh needs. I know we have to order a bunch of parts. Would you mind running down to the auto store if we do?”
“No problem,” Noah answered. “I’d be happy to help.” He said this while cradling Keeper, who seemed to be listening to the conversation.
“Since when do you have a cat?” She asked, apparently noticing the animal for the first time. She touched Keeper’s head affectionately. “She’s cute. You can let her go play around the yard while we work if you want. Or you can leave her in the house?” This was Wendy’s polite way of saying that there was no time to play with animals.
“She likes to stay close to me,” Noah answered. “Her name is Keeper. I found her abandoned near my doorstep.” He left any reference of the book shop out of his explanation.
“I see. Well, don’t let her slow you down. We have a bunch to do. Let’s go see what Josh needs.”
Josh was still under the Buick, but Wendy didn’t waste any time in letting him know that she was present.
“Josh, do you need any parts for whatever you’re working on?”
It took a few seconds for him to respond, and it was clear that his focus was wholly on mechanical solutions.
“Ahh…I wrote down the parts on a piece of paper up there on the bench somewhere. I just called them in for delivery. But knowing that place, the pieces won’t be here for hours. I could actually use some stuff pretty soon here.”
Wendy looked for the list on the old wooden workbench that was peppered with loose tools, lining the shop walls. It had to be there somewhere. Though Earl had kept everything in neat order, things had gotten a bit chaotic in his absence. But, in fairness, Josh had been doing the work of two men. He had no choice. Wendy stepped up when she could as an extra hand, but her technical skills were still lacking. She still had a lot to learn about the business.
Wendy spotted the crumpled up, grease-stained paper and handed it to Noah.
“Here. Do you think you could take your bike down to the parts store and pick this stuff up and bring it back? The shop is pretty close – right off the south end of Main Street. I’ll call and cancel the delivery and tell them you are your way.”
Noah took the worn paper. “I think I can handle this,” he said, smiling.
“OK, good. I’m going to help Josh try and get caught up. We are behind in repairs and have five in line waiting to be serviced.”
“Sounds good; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Noah was more than happy to do this type of work. It was less technical and more adventurous. He hopped on the bike and motored it out of the yard, Keeper peeking her head out of the front basket. It only took a few minutes to get to Main Street. By now, he knew his way around town well. The only thing that was remotely worrisome on these drives was the idea of bullies or demons on the loose. But, all was clear on this excursion so far. He made it to the store in fewer than twelve minutes, riding at full throttle. The light Saturday traffic made it easy for him to cut and weave through the streets, saving him time.
Burt’s Auto Supply was open for business. Noah walked in, leaving Keeper in the basket. The store was moderately-sized, with a large open counter and back room.
“Hi. I’m here to pick up parts for the Sherman account,” Noah said when he saw an employee.
“Oh yes. I believe I just received the call. And it’s a good thing I had! Jason was just getting ready to leave with a slew of deliveries, and you guys were on the list. I have what you need here. Let me just ring it up and get you on your way.”
The sales clerk was an older man. Noah wasn’t sure if this was Burt, but the guy was memorable. He wore jeans and a pocketed tee-shirt with suspenders that barely contained his barrel-of-a-belly. He was jolly, though, and his spirit seemed to fill the room.
While he was perusing the list Noah had handed him and entering prices on the cash register, the door bells jingled. Two figures entered.
Noah looked at the pair, dismissively at first. He noticed an older man and a boy. The boy, though larger than Noah, was about his own age, and it wasn’t until he moved closer that Noah recognized him.
It was Mike Nason. He had not laid eyes on Mike since he had hit him on the side of the head with the rock. He didn’t dare look at the older man (presumably Mike’s father), but he did listen to their conversation.
“I hope we get parts for twenty bucks, Mike, cause that’s all I got till next week. And I don’t want to hear backtalk or I’ll smack your skull.”
Mike didn’t reply. Noah wondered what was going through Mike’s mind. He wondered if his nemesis knew that Noah was standing just feet from him.
“You better start smartening up, or I’ll have to throw you another beating boy. Are you even hearing me? After I get this stuff, you’re going to fix it. I ain’t helping no more.”
Mike remained tight-lipped, but the jolly man behind the counter finished tallying just then. “OK, son. That’s going to be $65.22, young man.”
Noah spoke softly to avoid recognition. “I was asked to put that on the Sherman account.”
“What was that, son? You have to speak up! I’m hard of hearing.”
“Is there any way you can charge that to the Sherman account?”
The man looked confused for a moment, but then seemed to understand. “Oh! Yes! We can do that. Just give me a minute. I have t
o add it to the list of items on their account.”
It took him a few more moments to do this. Noah swallowed saliva down his lumpy throat. He could feel the energy behind him build, as he figured Mike now knew who he was. He just wanted to get out of the store now.
Most likely, Mike wanted to slug him in the head to get back at him for what he did that day. Noah was hoping to never see the kid again and had fantasized about Mike being shipped off to military school or a youth center of sorts. But he also now better understood why Mike was the way he was. He felt sad for him. Perhaps the father beat him regularly? At the very least, it was clear that the father treated him poorly.
The clerk then finished with the ledger and tore the pink slip from the yellow front copy. He handed it to Noah.
“Here you go.” He handed Noah a paper bag filled with supplies, and Noah grabbed it in haste, eyeballing Mike out of the corner of his eye on his way out. The boy had been glaring at him, looking angry. Noah quickly walked to the door and let himself out.
He hopped on his bike and pulled the crank start. It didn’t start at first. Damn! He glanced once more at the store window and saw that the father and son were finished with their own transaction and Mike was making his way to the front door. Noah decided to be proactive and perhaps offer an apology.
“Hey Mike,” he called, watching the boy turn toward him.
“You just think I’m gonna let that go? You hitting me in the head with a rock? I’m gonna kick your scrawny butt right here, right now you little punk. Get off your bike.”
Noah sat still, hanging his head.
“Well, get off the bike or I will make you get off.” Noah kicked the stand back out and swung his leg over the seat, facing Mike directly. “You’re just a small nobody, and I’ll never stop beating you. And there is nothing you can do about it.”
Mike tried to push him off the bike, but Noah reached his hand back and somehow found balance, holding himself and the bike up during this assault. Mike then threw a punch at Noah’s head, but just as his fist came close to striking, it stopped in mid-air about six inches away from its target and bounced back.
“What the heck” The bully blurted. He threw another punch, and the same thing happened. Noah, it seemed, had a protective bubble, and he was just as surprised as his attacker.
Nason then tried to kick him, but the identical outcome unfolded. His foot bounced back as if striking a pocket of air that pushed it away. And, after several more punches and kicks, the bully was getting tired of the outcome. He then noticed Keeper, who stood in the bicycle basket on her hind legs with front paws spread out. She was glowing, and the sight of her frightened him. He slowly backed away.
“You’re a freak,” Mike rasped. “You and your cat. To hell with both of you,” he ran back in the store.
Noah looked at Keeper in astonishment. “Let’s get the heck out of here, Keeper!” She seemed to agree, losing her glow and reverting to her normal state. Noah started the motor up on the first pull this time, and he sped off out of the parking lot and down the sidewalk heading to Main Street.
He thought about what had just happened. Keeper was definitely his guardian, and her powers were real and had been demonstrated. He was nervous by this concept, but he felt reassured that her powers had helped shield him from his nemesis. He just hoped for a similar outcome with the evil pack of murderers he would soon have to face.
Chapter 47
The evil entities drove the hijacked police car far into the woods, wanting it off the road for obvious reasons. They were in the next town, away from the blood and carnage they had left behind in the open streets of Mid-Town. But, now they had come across an old logging road with a gate blocking the way in.
Henry aimed his gun at the lock, shooting through its steel and shattering the piece. He then jumped out of the car and unraveled the chain that bound the fence. Once on the other side of the obstruction, the group wound the chain back into place to make it seem untampered with.
They then drove on, deep into the thick pines. Wildlife was abundant here: birds, deer, and low-legged furry mammals. The group didn’t have a destination; Henry’s only thought was getting out of sight. But there was a celebratory air in the car; all were talking wildly and freely among themselves. They hoped to find another hunting shack nearby.
As the day became evening, the search for a place to regroup became ever more imperative. Finally, though, the logging road opened upon a large gravel quarry. Heavy loading equipment littered the yard, as well as giant rock pile formations. But, more importantly, off in the distance, was a small mobile trailer with a portable toilet leaning against it. It looked to be an office space for an operating crew working the gravel pit.
Henry pulled the squad car up next to the trailer and put the car in park. Dust billowed as the tires came to a sudden halt. All four doors opened simultaneously, and the passengers stepped out.
Shawn was the first to walk up the steps of the trailer, but he found it locked. He sighed slightly, but it took him only three kicks to gain access. The others followed him inside. There wasn’t much to the trailer aside from a table in its center (presumably used for business meetings), and a few smaller tables throughout.
There was a closed-off office on the left, consisting of a desk, computer, and several office chairs. Plans and blueprints plastered the walls, showing land parcels flagged for clearing.
The group gathered at the center table. Henry, Shawn, and Marcus sat down, but the two Nephilim police officers could not sit still; they paced, restless for the next kill.
“Now what?” Shawn finally broke the silence, nervously digging chunks of hair and scalp off his head. They were in need of a body change; the ones they had hijacked were decaying fast. Flies had begun festering around the group.
“We wait,” Henry scolded him. He was now impatient often.
“Wait for what?” Marcus asked.
“Not for what, but for whom, you imbecile. We wait for the dark lord. He will let us know what we need to do.”
“Well, how long do we have to wait?” Shawn was primed for more action.
““As long as we have to.”
“That sucks. I need a new body. This one is failing me, and the flesh is rotting. We all need new bodies.” Shawn’s open sores were now bleeding.
“Just sit back and shut up. Be happy we now have a hideout away from the hordes of police now looking for us.” The sobering thought brought silence and stillness to the table.
The evening advanced to nightfall. Kerosene lamps were brought out, and eventually, Henry pointed out that the group had nothing but time on their hands, though the message was lost on the Nephilim spirits.
“Have a seat, you buffoons. Your unrest is troubling to me, and it’s putting me on edge!”
They looked over with bewildered faces. It would take more than demoralizing words to make them sit and rest. But Henry didn’t have it in him. He too was tired, and his body was falling apart too. He needed a body swap as well, but he didn’t want to reveal his weakness. Early morning hours crept in as the group held tight in their surroundings. But more flies were finding their way into the trailer and gathering to the demonic energies and rotting flesh.
At last a shadowy appearance emerged dressed in a black hood. Furfur was once again on the earth’s surface.
The few that saw him stopped what they were doing and gave their full attention. The Nephilim were confused and thought the demon was here to bring them back to eternal lockdown, and they tried to attack.
Furfur quickly set them down on the ground like twisted pretzels. They tried to shake and free themselves from his grip, but he whispered in their ears with his forked tongue. All eyes were on this enigmatic being while he demonstrated his strength. He commanded them to gather around the table.
“You all did splendidly yesterday – it was exactly what I thought you were capable of. You got away without hassle, and you were smart enough to come here without being found. I want yo
ur next assault to occur in the next town over. Your brothers here are hungry!” He said the last sentence loudly, hoping to generate excitement. “We must let them feast. And where do we feast?”
No one seemed to have an answer. Was this a rhetorical question?
“Where is it that we feast, you fools?” His voice conveyed disdain.
Still, there was no response.
After a few more moments without reply, Furfur shouted. “We feast at a food store. So, there you have it. Go to a food store and feast.”
Shawn was the first to speak; “You mean, like a grocery store?”
“Yes, a grocery store… a food store – anywhere a human would go to buy food!”
“Well, we could go to a restaurant,” Marcus chimed in.
`“You will go where I tell you! Need I remind you that you are being watched and graded from down below?” The young demon of power wanted to put fear in their heads so that they would obey him. He wanted to control their attacks and be able to report back to the devil on the doings of the “fearsome five.”
“I want you all to attack tomorrow. Don’t get into a quarrel with the police. This time, make sure to flee the scene before the authorities arrive. I want it to be a relatively quick strike, and you three need to change your bodies tomorrow. You’re all looking expired.”
He said all of this slowly with his snaking tongue.
“You will have plenty to choose from at the markets there. The town is called Easton; take the adults and spare the children. The youth comes with extra protection, and we don’t want any angels interfering or sending higher power to stop you. We have been fortunate up until now. If you complete your task, then you will be rewarded.”
The group seemed enthused and became a bit boisterous.
The demon continued: “You need to get rid of the car as soon as you can. That car is a target. Law enforcement brings powers angels who can also call the twins into action. Powers Angels themselves are more than you all are ready to deal with, and if the twins show up, they will take you back under lock and key until your essence is dissolved. Right now, you are hell’s weapons in real time. Few are in such a desirable position.”
