by Alan Baxter
Passengers began to scream and shout, some leaning to pull Samuel clear, see if he was all right, others jumping up, attempting to intervene in the fight. Isiah used his considerable strength, picking up the body the Devil inhabited, slamming it against a metal pole. The Devil tried to use his knees, his elbows, a furious flurry of blows. Isiah blocked and deflected all the blows he could, countering as much as possible, hammering his fists into the Devil’s face and body. The whole time the air around them flashed and buzzed with lights only they saw as they exchanged pulses of energy. Isiah could feel minions biting and tearing at his legs and back.
Passengers were shouting and screaming, some of the men trying to pull them apart, others scrambling to get away. More people started screaming as Samuel’s unconscious form began sliding along the floor of the carriage, being dragged away by minions the people couldn’t see. ‘Too much attention, Nick!’ Isiah shouted above the commotion. ‘Let it go!’
Isiah flicked one hand towards Samuel, energy sending the minions flying backwards, taking the full force of one of Satan’s blows for his trouble. He reeled but rallied, returning the favour. The air in the carriage was charged, the energies building up critically. As more minions began popping out of thin air, dragging at Samuel, beating at Isiah, a rushing sound began to fill the carriage, like a tornado approaching. Many of the passengers covered their ears, their hair beginning to swim in the static, their eyes wild, confused.
‘Let it go, Nick,’ Isiah cried above the increasing roar. ‘You’re breaking the Realm. Even you don’t want this much Hell! Too many people are seeing too much!’
The energies in the carriage were building up enormously, the passengers beginning to scream from sheer panic. With a roar of anger cracking like the loudest thunder Satan let go. Isiah dropped to the floor, grabbing hold of Samuel’s prone form. The rushing noise reached an ear splitting crescendo, then silence boomed into the carriage. Papers and packets floated to the ground, as people’s ears rang with the sudden lack of noise. The passengers, some still moaning and gasping, looked around at each other in bewilderment. Their gazes turned towards Isiah and Samuel. But already Isiah was pulling Samuel to his feet, dragging him towards the next carriage. The next carriage where the passengers had no idea of the bedlam that had occurred a few feet away.
Samuel began coming round as Isiah dragged him through one carriage into the next. He started to hobble along, his eyes confused and more than a little wild. ‘We have a moment’s respite, Samuel,’ Isiah said, his voice strained and breathless. He winced against the sharp pains of the wounds in his legs and back, teeth and claws leaving burning gouges.
‘I thought we were dogmeat that time,’ Samuel gasped.
Isiah nodded. ‘So did I for a moment.’ He slumped into a vacant seat, Samuel collapsing next to him. ‘We’re nearly at the airport. I think he’ll back off until there now.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s been too much activity here. There are some things he can’t afford to risk. I tell you, I’m sick of train rides.’
‘What do you mean?’
Isiah shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’
The train rocked along for another several minutes, but it was peaceful. Isiah repaired the damage to himself as they rode along, surreptitiously checking Samuel over too. He was growing tired. The fight had sapped a lot of his energy, weakened him. But he would have to carry on. He could buy them some time at the airport if they hadn’t missed the plane yet.
As the train pulled into the station, Isiah and Samuel stood by the door, watching everywhere. The platform was thankfully crowded. As they made their way towards the tunnel that would lead them into the airport everything seemed too quiet. ‘Stay alert,’ Isiah whispered as they jogged along.
Samuel ran, trembling, beside Isiah, holding his hand tightly once more. He heard a soft cry and looked around. A little girl sat by the wall of the tunnel, crying softly, holding her blood soaked arm like a baby. The bones of her arm stuck out through the flesh, stark white and jagged. She looked into Samuel’s eyes as he passed her. Her voice was like a whisper. ‘Help me!’
Samuel looked away. ‘Fuck me.’
Isiah squeezed his hand. ‘It’s not real. It’s to confuse you, take you off guard. Nobody else can see it. Look at these other people. Try to be like them.’
Samuel looked forward, his face taut. ‘Oh, fuck off,’ he moaned, his voice strained, as several mutilated bodies began crawling across the floor in front of him, reaching out with bloody, broken hands. Their voices mingled like a breeze through long grass. ‘We need you, Samuel. Come with us.’
Samuel shook his head, trying to blink the visions away. Small noises caught in his throat as he jumped over them. They came up into the airport terminal. ‘Come on,’ Isiah said. ‘We can not afford to miss that plane.’ He pulled Samuel along as he went to fetch their tickets and check in. As the girl behind the desk looked at their tickets Isiah kept a careful eye out. It was too quiet.
‘You gentlemen are too late,’ the girl said.
Isiah shook his head. ‘Please check. Have we really missed the flight?’
The girl tapped at her keyboard, watching the data flitting across her screen. ‘Oh!’ she said, turning to check the board behind her. ‘You’re very lucky. The plane has been delayed due to a mechanical fault.’
‘Excellent.’ Isiah was relieved. ‘How long do we have?’
‘Well, according to this, the flight has been rescheduled and should leave in just over one hour. You are lucky, you have plenty of time.’
Isiah smiled. Lucky? Hardly. From one extreme to another, now they had to hide out and wait again. Samuel hung his head, exasperated.
‘May I see your passports please?’ the girl asked. Isiah waved his hand by her face, staring into her eyes for a second. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, nodding like a donkey. ‘Any luggage?’
Isiah shook his head. ‘None.’
The girl smiled as she tapped at her keyboard. ‘Here are your boarding passes. Have a nice flight.’
Isiah took the cards, slipped them into his jacket. ‘Thank you.’ Still holding Samuel’s hand they walked towards the departure lounge.
Samuel was obviously nervous, looking around himself, his hand repeatedly squeezing and releasing Isiah’s. ‘Why’s it so quiet?’
Isiah shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. When we go through passport control, stand close to me and don’t say a word.’
‘All right. You realise I don’t have a passport, don’t you?’
‘Of course. I’ve never had one.’
‘How did you know we hadn’t missed the flight?’ Samuel asked.
‘I sabotaged it. A bit.’
Samuel, looking worriedly around himself, said, ‘Well, can’t you un-sabotage it a bit? Get us under way? How can we sit around here safely for an hour?’
‘I can’t do anything to it now because that would mean leaving you alone again. I can fix the deck sometimes. Other times we have to play with the cards we’re dealt. Come on.’
They followed the tape barrier, under the large Departures sign, through to passport control. They stood in line, nervous at the calmness. As the people in front of them moved away from the desk, the guard motioned them forward. ‘Passports and boarding passes, please,’ the uniformed man said. Isiah stared deep into his eyes for a moment, his face perfectly still. After a second the man looked away. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. Have a nice flight.’ Another moment’s glance from Isiah and the security guard at the metal detector waved them straight through. The man behind the x-ray machine yawned expansively as they strolled past.
Isiah led Samuel through to the departure lounge. Samuel smiled as they went through. ‘Neat trick. Could I learn that one too?’
‘It’s possible for you to learn any of them. Anybody can. I don’t think you have it in you to manipulate people’s minds. It’s quite exhausting.’
Samuel laughed. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Stay alert, Samuel,’ Isiah snapped. ‘Don’t drop your guard.’
As they headed towards some chairs in a fairly crowded corner, Samuel cursed. ‘Look left, Isiah,’ he whispered.
Two uniformed policemen were approaching them, their faces set, grim. Isiah let out a slow breath. ‘Shit. Play it as it comes. Let me do the talking.’
The policemen stopped in front of them, barring their way. ‘We’d like a word with you two girls, please,’ one of them said, smirking. Isiah felt Samuel’s hand tighten around his as he also noticed that these were not ordinary policemen.
‘What’s the problem?’ he asked calmly.
‘Just come with us please,’ the policeman said, reaching for Isiah’s sleeve. The other policeman reached towards Samuel. Out of the corner of his eye Isiah could see two more policemen, real ones, looking over. Their faces showed curiosity as they began making their way towards the little group. Samuel remained uncharacteristically silent, trembling violently. Isiah began considering drastic action. He might have to risk Samuel by travelling from this point. They would not have to go far, just a few hundred feet. Enough to confuse Satan for a moment, give Isiah time to hide them.
There was a rush of powerful energy, pure and divine. Isiah smiled as the policeman’s face froze. Isiah flicked out a thought to the approaching officers, Nothing to see here. They blinked and turned away, looking around for a moment in confusion before heading off in the opposite direction. Samuel’s back stiffened as he became aware of the presence behind him.
A voice like harmonious music rang out. ‘You made a mistake there, brother.’ The comment was directed at the policeman holding Isiah’s arm. ‘That body you picked is one of mine.’
The policeman hissed, a flash of yellow eyes, sharp teeth washing over his face. The other policeman stood dumbly by, his arm halfway to Samuel, like a zombie. ‘Leave here,’ the policeman growled, his voice dripping with hate, ‘this is not your fight.’
‘Oh, but it is,’ said the voice behind them. ‘I can’t let you defile that body.’ A figure stepped around Isiah to stand between him and Lucifer. He was a tall, blond haired man, perhaps middle-aged, perhaps younger. It was impossible to tell. His face was beautiful, almost too good looking. But his face was angry too, dangerous.
‘Thanks for stepping in, Gabe.’
The angel nodded. ‘Any time, old friend.’
Samuel looked from Isiah to the angel to Lucifer, his face drawn and scared. ‘Gabe?’
‘Shut up, Samuel,’ Isiah said.
The tension in the air was palpable as Gabriel and Lucifer stared into each other’s eyes. It made Isiah’s teeth itch, his hair stand on end. Samuel was breathing short, gasping breaths.
‘Leave that body, brother,’ Gabriel said. His voice was calm but his eyes betrayed his fury.
Lucifer snarled. ‘Don’t call me brother, you lap dog. Get out of my way.’
‘I can’t do that. I don’t need much of an excuse to help Isiah. That human is mine.’
‘Step away,’ Lucifer growled. ‘You’ll have him back unharmed in moments.’
‘No.’ Gabriel’s energy began building up. Passersby could sense the tension and were giving the little group plenty of space.
Lucifer’s face twisted in tormented frustration. He looked past Gabriel at Isiah. ‘You will bow to me, Interferer, and I will have his soul,’ he hissed, stabbing one finger into Samuel’s chest. Then he turned and walked away, his colleague following mindlessly. After a few paces they both stopped, exchanged a confused glance, rubbing their heads.
Isiah turned to Gabriel. ‘Thanks, man, good timing.’
‘No problem. But you’d better be careful.’
Isiah nodded. ‘I know. I’ll cloak us now for some peace, then again when we get off the plane.’
Gabriel nodded. ‘He’ll scour this airport for you. As soon as I leave, he’ll be back. And I can’t stay for long.’
‘Sure. Will you stay while I cover us?’
‘Of course, but then you’re on your own again.’
They walked to some chairs and sat down. Samuel was silent, looking from one to the other and back again, absently rubbing at his chest where the devil’s finger had left a sore, burning patch. ‘Nice when he shuts the fuck up, isn’t it?’ Isiah noted.
‘Indeed,’ Gabriel agreed. ‘What do you plan to do to hide him?’
Isiah turned to Samuel. ‘Now listen and don’t say a word, okay?’ Samuel nodded. ‘Our physical appearance is secondary to Lucifer. He spots us by our minds, our consciousness. I can mask my consciousness, but you can’t. So I’m going to take your consciousness into mine and mask us both together.’
‘You’re going to put me in your head?’ Samuel asked, his eyes wide.
‘Yes. Your body will sit there, it’ll breathe and tick along, but there’ll be nobody home.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘But he’ll still recognise the body won’t he?’
Isiah nodded. ‘Yes, but I can alter that, physically.’
‘If you can do all this, why haven’t you done it before?’
Isiah sighed. ‘Because your body can’t run around with nobody in it, and I can’t hold us both and run around at the same time.’
14
Carlos sat in the deep gloom of the jungle, chewing as he stared into the shadows. He had made good progress, even after his fun and games, and could allow himself the luxury of an early stop. Which was just as well, considering the difficulties of travelling through the jungle at night. It was almost worth it just to use the night vision goggles he had from Marco, though in truth the rest was what he really needed.
Exhilarated as he was by the day’s events and the simple fact that he was back in the jungle he could no longer deny his fatigue. His body was still weak from his injuries, out of condition from lying in that foetid hospital for weeks on end. His weakness irritated him, yet there was little that could be done. No matter. He had the time to rest and gather his strength. He would leave early, as soon as it was light, travel hard all day. He should be there by nightfall. Less than twenty four hours before he would reach his destination. Less than twenty four hours until he could look at that bastard’s face and begin to plan every minute detail of his painful death.
He had a small aluminium cooker in front of him, its orangey blue flame dancing fitfully around the sides of a battered pot. A dark, viscous brew bubbled gently. Leaning over, breathing deeply of the steam rising like a ghost from the churning liquid, Carlos sighed. This would help. The jungle, when you knew her well enough, could provide unimaginable bounty. The roots and leaves and barks in this tea were all plain enough until mixed like this and boiled. The resultant tea would be brutally strong in flavour, tart with tannins, thick as treacle, but it would give him a fine energy boost for the morning. Jungle tonic.
He pulled the pot from the small cooker, snuffed out the flame. Sudden shadow collapsed around him. Waiting for the tea to cool, he looked into the heavy shadows. The large tree, amongst whose roots he had made his bed, was tall, its jade green crown far above. Tiny creatures of the night leapt and skipped between the branches, making the hanging lianas shiver as though reaching for something on the ground. Other creatures could be heard, foraging and skittering, following their tiny trails amongst the foliage. The birds all slept, roosted high in the canopy, and the night shift had come out to take their place. Carlos loved to listen to the jungle at night, so quiet at first, but the more you listened, the more you could hear. Tiny sounds swelled up with your patience until you could hear all kinds of activity, all kinds of life, just beyond vision. He respected these creatures and their nocturnal anonymity.
He picked up the pot, breathing deeply once more of its aroma, and that of the surrounding jungle, verdant life, loam, dark, moist hollows. He took a draught from the pot, wincing at both the heat of it and the toe-curling strength. But it felt good sliding down his throat, feeding his ailing body.
He smiled in the darkness. The gent
le susurrations of the jungle all around were lulling him, relaxing him. The irritating flies had left with the light, the mosquitoes he could ignore from years of practice. The thought of snakes and spiders didn’t bother him. Such natural dangers were of no concern. He swallowed the last of his tea, bolting it down like the medicine it was, put the pot aside. He laid back on his grubby bedroll, the leaves and twigs beneath it rustling. As he closed his eyes to sleep he once again thought of the priest and his forthcoming suffering. Smiling like a cat he dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Katherine giggled like a schoolgirl at Pedro Sanchez’s ridiculous story, but she didn’t care. The wine was at least as fine as promised and she felt warm inside and happy. Thomas sat beside her, relaxed in his chair, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he watched. He had consumed at least as much wine as she had, yet he seemed completely unaffected by it. Maybe that was due to his age, more practice. Katherine was full of food as well as wine, repeatedly surprised at how good the catering was, here in the middle of the jungle. She was impressed at the operation that Sanchez was managing so well, and she had told him so. In his usual selfless way he had insisted that everybody around him made it easy to run such a smooth operation and had launched into this story about his days as a young would-be archaeologist.
But Katherine knew that it was his front, his way of hiding the enormous stress he was under. The truth of it was that he was almost single-handedly running every aspect of this dig and it was beginning to tell. His eyes, though bright and excited, were bloodshot in the corners, dark purple bulges underneath. He would occasionally lean away from conversation, staring into space until someone caught his attention again. But at that moment, feeling as full of the wine as she was, he was simply enjoying his chance to tell a story, raise a few laughs.
