In the Beginning (Anthology)

by Laureen Cantwell

  MARK 9:25-27, KING JAMES VERSION

  25 When Jesus saw that the people came running together, he rebuked the foul spirit, saying unto him, Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him.

  26 And the spirit cried, and rent him sore, and came out of him: and he was as one dead; insomuch that many said, He is dead.

  27 But Jesus took him by the hand, and lifted him up; and he arose.

  THE DEMON WAS ME

  Sharon Hughson

  I stood on the precipice of manhood, fiery determination flowing through my veins. On the cliff beside me, an engraved metal sign screamed: “Warning: Demon Abyss.” A century after the End of the World, when demons nearly destroyed humanity, the weathered sign’s caveat merely recited ancient history. A single demon had never entered the Rogue River Valley, not in all of my sixteen years.

  Once, folks called this place Crater Lake. That was before the Greatest of Wars. That war’s relentless barrage of nuclear bombs caused the Great Nuclear Winter and created this new crevice. Earthquakes. Volcanic eruptions. Those destroyed the once great Rocky Mountains, turning them into a frightful new landscape. The Canyon Abyss.

  And it was that wretched chasm that gave entrance to an army of demons bent on terrorizing the world and decimating humanity. They destroyed technology, sending the Western Region back to the Dark Ages. But people on the other side of The Canyon Abyss had access to devices, gadgets, and energy sources I couldn’t even imagine. I planned to experience them all. But first, to conquer this ugly pit.

  I stared into the blackness of what we now call the Demon Abyss, ignoring the prickles zinging along my spine. Above me, the rocks of Watchman Tower cast a massive shadow over the gaping chasm. Petrified pines, result of bombings or the harsh hundred-year winter that followed them, stood sentry around the trails leading to the peak overlooking the bottomless pit.

  “Scisco, man. You got nerves of steel.” MJ dared me to come here, and now he clenched his hands together like a scared granny.

  I grinned in reply. What did he expect from a guy with the last name Irons? Sure, it might signify my father’s trade, but I claimed it as a character descriptor, too. Not that I planned to spend my future surrounded by the stink of hot metal. I had higher aspirations. The netherworld of the Western Region might be all some would ever see, but I wanted to experience the technology on the other side of The Canyon. And, after I proved myself today, I would.

  Shadows swallowed me as I descended. Rocks skittered away from my sliding steps. A gust of sulfur buffeted my face. Others might have gagged, but I’d spent enough time metal-smithing to ignore the stench.

  “What do you see?” MJ’s voice echoed between the rock walls surrounding me. His red hair added color to the starkness, poking over the rocks at the rim. Amazing. Mr. Chicken Liver had managed to creep to the edge.

  “Rocks and shadows,” I called up to him. The nothingness below sucked away my words.

  The putrid reek of death wafted upward and whispers from below raised the hair on the back of my neck.

  Something inside my head bellowed for me to retreat. The murmurs from the dark had to be a trick of the wind, because I wasn’t buying those old superstitions about demons rising from the center of the earth.

  Time to squelch my imagination. If I could walk into these depths, I could follow my heart further—to the real world in the Central Region, and beyond.

  A landslide of pebbles began with my next step, plunging me downward. My heart leapt into my throat as my fingers scrabbled against the rocky cliff. A scraggly sage bush stabbed my palm when I clutched at it to stop my descent.

  The drumming of my heart camouflaged the taunt of maniacal laughter rising from the darkness. Shivers crawled over my skin. My fingers twitched. Imagination or not, my body shouted a second warning. I gulped at the sight of the rough path of retreat. Another sinister echo spurred me onward, upward. Using jagged boulders lining the mountainside for hand and foot holds, I clambered toward the light.

  An icy presence bit into my shoulders. A backward glance revealed a cloud of black mist rising behind me. My hair prickled against the knit cap pulled over my dark curls. My catapulting pulse and ragged breathing echoed inside my head. What was that? Weren’t demons invisible? My sweaty fingers slipped and a rock sliced my palm. I winced, but the urge to flee overpowered the slash of pain.

  Acid surged up from my stomach, interfering with my gasps for breath. Tingles at the back of my neck propelled me upward. My boots scrabbled up the steep incline. A misstep and folded ankle lurched me to the side. Pain stabbed up my calf.

  Hurry up. Get away from here. Move it, Irons.

  When I crested the crater’s lip, MJ stumbled away at my sudden appearance. Or maybe the sight of my pasty features and wild-eyed terror forced his retreat.

  “What’s it like?” My friend’s eyes sparkled with awe and excitement.

  “Run.” I spat the word with an anguished exhale. We had to get away from the evil pursuing me.

  MJ’s eyes widened further as he looked over my shoulder. Without another word, he sprinted toward the copse of trees where we’d hobbled the horses.

  My lungs screamed for air. My feet moved like overweight sledgehammers. Must go faster.

  Two steps further, the ghastly black fog overtook me. Icicles pierced my back. Every muscle in my body spasmed. I plunged face-first against the ground. Something sharp gouged my cheek. Shivery tingles pervaded my insides. A vile presence pressed against my mind.

  “Get out!” I rolled to my back, arms outstretched. I wanted to fight, throw the intruder off me. But how can you resist something as ethereal as air?

  Laughter rang in my ears. Sinister. It shuddered against my soul. Terror and hopelessness collided in my chest. A foreign power clutched at my mind.

  I screamed. I rolled to my side and squeezed my eyes shut. If only I could disappear.

  Another dark wave of laughter echoed through my skull. Convulsions gripped me.

  Against my will, my limbs flailed in every direction. A spike pressed into my mind. I cradled my throbbing head. My body, a tumbleweed in the wind, spun on the ground.

  Go away, demon. Most High Ruler, please, I beg you, banish this evil.

  Peals of delight screeched along my nerve endings. You are weak. There is no power when you speak that name. I will take this body.

  For hours, I rolled, bucked, and screamed, resisting him. Sweat soaked my underarms and the coarse linen shirt plastered itself to my scraped back. Jagged rips in my canvas workpants exposed scratch marks along my hair-speckled legs. My fingers and toes pulsed with strange energy but, when I commanded my body to run or even to shut my eyes, nothing happened.

  “Who are you?” I asked the creature making camp inside my mind. It wrapped like a serpent around my brain stem. When I tried to push against it, agony rocketed through my skull.

  I am Inhio. Fight, human. The pain invigorates me.

  Since he urged me to fight, I wanted to do the opposite. But I wouldn’t allow him to control me. “What do you want?”

  To be free from my prison. To experience the sensations flesh offers.

  I pulled away from Inhio, the demon presence. Apparently those legends about demons escaping during the continental shift were true after all. My stupid plan had backfired. Instead of proving my bravery, I’d reinforced my father’s arguments. “You’re not ready to strike out on your own,” he’d told me.

  When my eyes fluttered open (was it even me controlling them?), twilight darkened the sky. Far away, my throat ached.

  “I’m thirsty.” My voice sounded raspy, and my tongue scraped the roof of my mouth. At least I could speak, but why would the demon allow that?

  Make it stop.

  “Water.” The word was agony. “In my pack.” I tried to look toward the supplies, but my body was beyond my control. Only my voice belonged to me.

  I sat up. The demon
steered my body toward the hiking pack, and my brain tagged along for the ride. MJ and his gear had disappeared. Good. I hoped he’d gotten far away. Only The Exokint could help me now, but the demon hunters would never stray this far from The Canyon.

  There is no help. Submit to me and I will let you choose our first pleasure.

  A lie. Demons in the stories only cared about sensuality and power. If I cooperated, he wouldn’t have to use much energy controlling me and would have more available for his baser pursuits. Rod of steel, Scisco Irons. That’s what your backbone is made of and no demon will change it.

  Eerie laughter rolled inside my head. Pain throbbed against my temple. My back and legs stung, the scrapes from our tussle flared along my nerves. If I couldn’t control those things, I shouldn’t be able to feel their results. And yet, agony overwhelmed me.

  Your soul feels the pressure of my presence. Submit.

  “Never,” I screamed, the pain in my throat worth the surge of defiance in my heart.

  I watched my hands unscrew the cap to my water bottle, then tip the container toward my lips. The rush of cool water soothed the irritation in my throat. My mouth drank every last drop of fluid. My tongue snaked over my lips, sucking up the drops that escaped. I watched my body perform these actions yet felt detached from them.

  I would force my hands to obey. I concentrated on dropping the water bottle, but my hand didn’t respond.

  Your body is mine. The poisonous hiss of Inhio’s voice clawed along the front of my face. Submit your mind.

  With pain bludgeoning my head, I never considered yielding my thoughts to the intruder. My mother claimed my stubborn streak outstretched the Rogue River. Time to prove it.

  My feet dragged over the uneven ground. My mind shoved against the intruder, but the demon laughed, splitting my brain with lightning bolts of brutality. Miles later, the petrified forest gave way to stunted groves of pine trees. We reached the plateau that had once been Mt. McLoughlin. Central Rogue River, my hometown, lay eastward. As if the demon knew my thoughts, he steered my throbbing feet in that direction.

  For once, I was thankful for my father’s job. His work in Prospectville, keeping miners’ tools sharp, meant he wouldn’t be at home. I mentally sighed, not wanting to face him while in this stupor.

  A faint odor of wood smoke tickled my nostrils, the first indication of nearby civilization we’d encountered. My stomach tightened, roiling at the idea of meeting other people.

  That ache at my center needs attention.

  I hated to agree with the demon, but hunger gnawed my stomach. That hollow pit hadn’t enjoyed sustenance since the raw rabbit two days ago. Acid bubbled in my gut when I recalled the strings of flesh stuck between my teeth. Thinking of death and blood made Inhio giddy and euphoric. What would happen when he met other people?

  Within a few short minutes, a break opened in the tree line. My feet plowed through a dusty, narrow pathway between the houses. Pickaxes and shovels leaned against the weathered wooden cabins. A mining community.

  Let all the residents be in the mines.

  Inhio chuckled. Are you praying to me? No one else is listening.

  A delicious aroma embraced me. Apples and cinnamon. A fresh-baked pie. I salivated like a rabid dog. Using my nose as his guide, Inhio turned my body toward a house sitting back from the main crush. The yawning front door allowed the early summer sunshine in and provided an escape route for the provocative scent. My stomach yowled like an angry cat.

  Inside the tiny cabin, two pies steamed on the table. My boots stomped across the creaky wooden floor. Fingers stretched toward the dessert. Pain scorched my skin, but that spurred the demon to greater ecstasy. The juicy dessert scalded my hand as he scooped a chunk out of the plate. Steam spiraled upward, doubling the scintillating fragrance.

  The bubbling juices blistered my tongue. No amount of pain could camouflage the delectable sweetness of apple pie.

  Inhio sighed. Ripples of pleasure cascaded through my mind. Never before had dessert tasted this wonderful. Or maybe I had never savored it in the same way the demon did.

  He scooped more of the treat into our mouth. Soon, the burns on our hands and tongue faded from memory. A siren song danced along my taste buds.

  More.

  One pie plate sat empty on the table. Our hands reached for the next one.

  “It will make you sick.” My burnt tongue stung as I spoke. My voice sounded foreign.

  Rather than laughing or needling me with pain, the demon ignored my warning. He shoveled with our crimped fingers, depositing more of the gooey delicacy into our mouth.

  Half of the pie still beckoned from the pan. Acid burned the back of our throat. The bucking in my stomach warned of the imminent expulsion.

  So much for the flavorful pleasure of fresh-baked pie. Vomit forced its way along the same pathway the dessert had traveled. Our face turned so the stream of undigested apple pie splattered on the table beside the empty plate.

  Anger railed against me, pounding at the temples of my mind.

  “I told you.”

  Any sense of satisfaction gained from being right was drowned beneath the onslaught of torture Inhio railed against me.

  By the time I recovered from the dizzying agony, he clutched the remaining pie and marched through the abandoned streets of the village. The scent of yeasty bread called him into another small hut, where he snatched an evenly browned loaf off the counter. An old woman screeched at us, but Inhio ignored her.

  Our chest puffed as we jogged away from the crude buildings. A few strides later, trees surrounded us again. My shoulders relaxed. If an old woman chasing us was the worst thing we faced, wandering the woods wouldn’t be too bad.

  The next evening, another town beckoned. Voices rumbled. My heart squeezed against my lungs. Could I keep the demon away from those men I heard?

  Deep-toned laughter pummeled my awareness like fists.

  This is my body. You are nothing.

  Right. I couldn’t do anything to stop the demon. I poked his bulky shadow anyway. He rewarded me with a blinding mental spike to the center of my face.

  We came out of the trees and went around the corner of a ramshackle structure. An assortment of young and middle-aged men gathered outside the oversized window of one building. On the sill of the opening, ewers of drink and rounds of puffy bread smothered in melted cheese beckoned our starved flesh. Men dressed in the protective leather chaps of loggers, elbowed their way through a line, grabbing food and drink.

  My body nudged between two others. A scraped hand shook. Was that really my hand? It shoved a round of bread into my mouth. The yeasty fragrance rode a trail of steam directly into my nose at the same moment my tongue greedily savored the fresh-baked goodness. Addictive waves of satisfaction lapped against my mind.

  The bitter bite of barley beer chased away the food. It might quench a guy’s thirst, but it tasted vile. Our throat swallowed one mouthful after another until the empty mug returned with a clank to the counter.

  “Thirsty work, aye?” The bartender poured the mug full of the golden liquid.

  I opened my mouth to tell him I wanted ginger beer. The carbonated soda imported from the Central Region was my favorite.

  You will not speak. With the demon’s voice, a knife of pain slashed against my will.

  Reeling from the assault, I hardly noticed swallowing more beer. Food and drink disappeared into our mouth until our stomach sloshed. Inhio had learned about overindulgence. He shoved away from the counter, throwing elbows into the sides of men he passed. Loggers wore muscles for armor, and my elbows stung from the battering.

  “You aren’t on my crew.” A bearded man with shoulders wider than a doorway pointed at me.

  My uneasiness spurred Inhio to dodge the giant. We shuffled behind a man and woman locked in an embrace and sidled into the shadows behind the building.

  “We should keep running,” I said, my voice once again r
esponding to my thoughts.

  The demon moved through the dim corridors of town. We had nearly reached the end of the street when a man slightly smaller than me cut across our path. My fingers snagged his shirt collar and yanked him to a stop.

  “Hey!” Coffee-colored eyes flashed in his sun-darkened face.

  Our fist crashed into his nose. Blood spurted. Excitement flooded my mind, sending our heart galloping wildly in our chest. Our hand smashed the underside of the stranger’s pointy jaw. Pain flared through every bone in that hand. I hardly registered the ache in my fist through the haze of the demon’s fury and glee.

  Inhio sighed. He relished the adrenaline rush of violence as much as the delicious pie and soft bread. The food and beer turned to stone in our stomach.

  Stop. There’s no reason to hit him.

  Heedless of my desires, the demon continued battering the man’s face, stomach, and back. The stranger’s blood turned my fist red. When my hand released the man, he staggered and fell against the side of the cabin. Groaning, he slumped to the ground.

  Euphoria from the fight whirled in my head with the alcohol buzz. I tried to resist the demon’s joy. Mind-numbing waves of ecstasy circled like buzzards around a carcass.

  We slammed the door of the cabin open. Inside, a woman pressed herself against the back wall. A lantern flickered from atop a solitary table. Yellow light waltzed with shadows over her features.

  She was older than me, at least twenty. The man we had beaten might have been her husband or brother. Even in the dimness, her wide eyes betrayed her terror.

  “What do you want?” Her voice wavered.

  We stalked closer. A tumult of strange desires pummeled me, landing like a boxer’s best blows and making my stomach jar in response.

  “I don’t have much money.” The shrill tone of her voice sped our heartbeat.

  Run. I opened my mouth, but only an eerie grunt escaped. Inhio blocked my warning. I couldn’t let him harm this woman. I slammed my will against him, but he punched me aside like a child’s toy.