The Last Stand (Book 3) (The Repentant Demon Trilogy)

by Samantha Johns

  While Abigail unpacked the dishes, pots and pans, packaged foods, and other boxes, Cal checked out the refrigerator and pantry they had been told were stocked with food. It was all government issued canned goods and dehydrated meals. Survival foods and lots of bottled water. None of it was very appealing, but it would provide them survival.

  “Abby, I don't see any fresh foods in here,” he mentioned. “I know this will be fine once the hard times begin, but there's plenty of room in the freezer for meat and some bags of frozen vegetables. Maybe even some pizza or ice cream.”

  “I was thinking we should go into town to stock up on dog food,” she answered. “Angel doesn't eat much, and she could probably live on just our scraps, but I'd feel better about her nutrition if she stayed with the same brand we've been feeding her.”

  They decided to take the government van, just in case they found some sales. The car she had inherited from Doug when he died was great on gas mileage, but a little small for stocking-up shopping expeditions. Abigail wondered if they should buy baby supplies. Their hope was to return home to Saint Louis well before July, but the way Rick Foley talked, they shouldn't count on it. She bought a ton of diapers, dozens of sleepers, undershirts, and some baby blankets—blue ones.

  “You know, I could feel guilty about spending taxpayer money for all this stuff,” Abigail half-way joked, “but we'll need all this if we’re stuck her until the baby comes.”

  “Honey, we are going to be here,” said Cal, “you know that based on what the angel Ashriel told us. We need to prepare long term. If by some miracle it's all over before the baby is born, then we can feel guilty about living off the government’s dime. Right now, I’m thinking we should go ahead and get a crib.” Then he added, “Most of this other stuff… I don't even know what it’s for.” Saying this, he held up a Boppy with a curious expression on his face.

  “That's a pillow to use while breastfeeding,” she said. “And I need it. A blue one, of course. And I guess we should buy a car seat too, although who knows whether or not we'll be able to go anywhere, much less if anyone will be around to enforce the child safety laws?” she considered.

  Soon they had two shopping carts full of stuff, and Cal decided to buy a fishing rod, becoming suddenly determined to try his hand at the sport. He considered buying a book called “Fishing for Dummies” but decided Mike’s family could show him how.

  “We should buy a gun,” said Cal, before they had reached the end of the sporting aisle.

  “We can't,” answered Abigail. “You need a permit to buy one. And I'm sure Agent Foley will provide us with something when the time comes, if we need it.”

  Cal eyed the display of rifles with anticipation in his eyes. He looked like a boy checking out the new bicycles as his birthday approached. Ready for battle, he was feeling every bit of those inherent instincts for war that had been a part of him throughout eons of his previous existence as a rebellious angel in Satan's regime. This had somehow transferred over with his rebirth into a human being.

  “Are you thinking you'd like to try hunting?” asked Abigail, watching him.

  “I have no desire to kill little animals,” he said, “or big ones either, although I'm not quite ready to become a vegetarian, either. I'm wondering about protection for us against the predators in the woods. The ones Agent Foley mentioned.”

  “We're not going to wander very far from the cabin,” she said. “I guess it is possible that a bear or something could find its way into our area. But the military can probably provide you with something better than you could get here.”

  Alco was Pinedale's answer to Wal-Mart. It was a big superstore that included a large grocery section where Abigail and Cal stocked up on meats, vegetables, and some treats they knew they would appreciate once certain things became scarce; like pizza, cheesecake, Hershey bars, ice cream, and six bags of high protein dog chow.

  “That should last Angel about three years,” laughed Abigail, pulling their third shopping cart to the checkout. “Good thing we took the van. I don't think all of this would have fit inside my car.”

  They splurged and enjoyed an evening meal at a local eatery known for buffalo burgers, a first for both of them. As if they had done something to deserve some type of instant karma, on the highway going home they faced an immense bison on the road. It blocked their lane completely and snorted angrily at them.

  “Do you think he knows we just ate one of his cousins?” joked Abigail, sitting patiently behind the wheel waiting for the creature to move. The creature stared at her right through the windshield, glaring at her eye-to-eye. She honked her horn, which was a mistake, but no one had warned her not to do so. The animal charged powerfully into the front end of the vehicle, jolting them forward hard enough to frighten them.

  “I know we're in serious trouble,” said Cal, “but I can't help admiring the beauty of that animal. Look at that massive chest, and his face has such noble bone structure.”

  “He is amazing, I'll grant you that,” Abigail agreed, “Since staring him down or sounding the horn did not work, I think we should try ignoring him. It couldn't hurt, and I can't think of anything else. Any ideas you want to share from the depths of your latent genetics?”

  “Abby, I think you might be right,” Cal said, turning his back to the animal as it encircled them. “Four-legged herd animals are likely to view us as a threat, or our vehicle anyway. We need to look benign. Maybe even play dead.”

  Abigail lowered the back of her seat and curled to her side as if to take a nap, even closing her eyes. The sound of hard hooves on the asphalt pavement was terrifying having only the structure of the van between them and a thousand pounds of beast. After a few minutes or so of silence, Abigail slowly opened her eyes only to see that the buffalo was standing still and peering in at her through the driver's side window. She quickly closed her eyes again tightly, hoping that it was not too late to convince him she was either sleeping or dead. She hoped that he would not be able to break the safely glass with his large horns.

  They again heard the footfalls of his hooves, and they seemed to be moving away. She waited, gulping with fear and breathing heavily until she felt sure she heard those sounds were coming from farther away. Carefully and slowly, she raised her head and saw him in the rear view mirror where he appeared to be sniffing the exhaust fumes from her tailpipe.

  “Abby, do you think maybe he wants to mate with our van?” said Cal. And he said this with all seriousness, which caused her to giggle, covering her mouth to muffle the sound.

  “It might not be a bad idea to encourage him,” he continued, not understanding why she was laughing. “While he's occupied, we could gun the engine and make a run for it while he takes the exhaust in his face.”

  “How exactly do we encourage him?” she teased, “Oh, bovine expert.”

  “Typical mating behavior,” he said, still not seeing what she found so funny. “Animals dance, wave their behinds, display their colors… That's it. Turn on your flashers. The lights will attract his curiosity long enough for you to sit up fast and hit the pedal to the metal.”

  “Where did you hear that expression?” she asked.

  “Television,” he answered.

  “Here goes,” she said, easing her hand slowly to the control that started the red flashing signals. They heard the snorting sounds instantly. She raised herself quickly to a sitting position and could see in the rear view mirror that the animal was no longer looking inside at them but at their taillights. She put the car in gear and floored the gas pedal as she spun forward, pealing rubber as they sped away.

  The technique worked. They made it back to the cabin and began unloading their purchases. Cal complained that if he'd had a gun they would not have been in such as state of peril.

  “You can't shoot a bison,” Abigail informed him, “they're an endangered species, I think.”

  “But we were the ones whose lives were threatened, Abby,” he argued. “And they're not endangered. I checked
. Besides, there are other dangerous things out here. Grizzlies, Black Bear, Mountain Lions, Wolves, and even Elk or Moose can be dangerous under the right conditions. I'm getting a gun, Abby. That's all there is to it,” he said firmly. Abigail was no longer offering any rebuttal. He had convinced her

  It took a long time to unload all their purchases, and they had neglected to check Angel's crate upon their return. When Abigail eventually remembered, she rushed to the crate, finding the door wide open.

  “Cal, she’s gone,” Abigail shrieked. “No, no, please let her be all right.”

  “She must be in the cabin somewhere,” insisted Cal, as they began searching under furniture and even inside the closet.

  “Why wouldn’t she have come running to us like she always does?” asked Abigail, beginning to cry, “If she got outside, we’ve lost her.”

  Eventually Cal noticed that a note had been left on the table.

  “Look here, Abby,” he said. “It’s from the McFarlands. They came and took Angel because she was barking so loudly. She's up at their house, and we are supposed to go get her.”

  “They just came into our cabin?” asked Abigail. “How rude. I don't like this at all. We're getting the locks changed. Obviously they have keys, since it was their vacation rental.”

  “Let's go get her after we get the frozen stuff into the freezer,” said Cal. “I mean, it's not like she's kidnapped. They told us to come and get her.”

  “I'll go,” she argued. “You can finish putting the food away.”

  “No,” he insisted, “I don't want you going up that hill to some stranger's house. Especially since it's almost dark out now. Not after what almost happened to us on the highway. We'll go together.”

  As they argued, they were startled by a knock at the door. Standing there was a typical mountain man with a long white beard and hair, wearing a hooded parka, green rubber snow boots up to his knees, and their little white dog in his arms.

  “I'm Brady McFarland,” he said. “I'm sorry if I alarmed you by taking your pup, here. But I had a very good reason. She has one of those yippy, high-pitched barks.”

  Abigail ran to take the dog from him.

  “I’m sorry if she disturbed you, Mr. McFarland,” Abigail apologized, but with a cool tone of voice. “I forgot to give her the peanut butter toy that keeps her happy for hours. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

  “No, no,” the man said, “I didn't mean to say that she annoyed us. Maybe you people don't know this country that well, or you'd have understood how that kind of bark carries really far in these hills. We could faintly hear her from our front porch, and we knew how the sound must have been echoing into the woods behind you. And there's nothing that's going to draw a mountain lion out of the woods faster than the sound of defenseless little puppy. If hungry enough, it's libel to tear through a window or door to get at it.”

  “I'm sorry, I should be thanking you,” apologized Abigail, sincerely this time. “Come in and have a seat. We haven't met.”

  Brady McFarland walked in but said he had to get back home soon. The man stared at Abigail as if he knew her but couldn't place where from.

  “You look very familiar, young lady,” said McFarland, peering at her intently. “I know I couldn't have met you before. Maybe you just look like somebody I used to know, only I can't think who that might be either.”

  Then he said that he saw they were busy and offered to help unload the van. Cal accepted his offer, since they were almost finished. Abigail said she would put on some coffee and wondered if he'd like a quick cup before heading back home. So within a half an hour the three of them were sitting at the old oak kitchen table drinking coffee, eating Pepperidge Farm chocolate chunk cookies, and getting to know each other.

  “You know, I think I should tell you that the little pooch's droppings outside are another signal to larger animals that there's a meal nearby,” McFarland advised.

  “No problem, I'll pick it up from now on,” said Abigail. “We were used to doing that in the city anyway. Do you think a baby crying would also alert the wildlife?”

  “Probably not. I doubt a baby would be so high-pitched,” he assured them. “You sure have a lot of stuff,” he added after another sip of coffee. There's not a lot of storage in this cabin because most people were only staying for the length of their vacation.”

  “We had to bring our whole houseful of belongings,” said Abigail, “Since we had to give up our rental apartment, there was no choice except to pack it all. And I didn't even have enough time to sort through and get rid of things we won't need. I'll try to do that as I unpack.”

  “So this was a sudden decision, then?” inquired McFarland, almost to himself. “If you want to put some things in my barn, you're welcome to use it. I'll show you a good spot so that the animals don't get to it. Goats will eat right through cardboard and the chickens will poop on it. But there’s a good spot over in the cow section. They'll ignore it.”

  “I like cows,” said Cal, getting a curious facial response from both Abigail and McFarland.

  “I like cows, too,” said McFarland after a thoughtful hesitation. “But I didn't think city folk appreciated them much. Have you ever been around farm animals, Cal?”

  “Not really,” he answered, stammering to find an explanation that would be more believable than that the Order of demon to which he had belonged, the Mullen, resembled humanoid-bulls. “I've only seen pictures in books, but I admire their eyes and facial structure.”

  “Well you come down to the barn with me in the daylight,” said McFarland, proudly, “and I'll show you the prettiest little Jersey you'd ever want to meet. Anastasia is my prize-winning dairy cow; she won three years in a row at the Wyoming State Fair. We still get a gallon of milk a day from her; more than we can use. Even with Uma making cheese and butter, we still end up freezing some of it. You're welcome to all you need.”

  “We might take you up on that,” said Abigail, “I should be drinking more milk, but I'm afraid of all the hormones they put in it nowadays.”

  “None of that in Anastasia's milk, I promise you,” he boasted. “I noticed you bought a bunch of baby equipment,” he said inquisitively, “but I don't see a baby.”

  “We're expecting in July,” said Cal.

  “July? Then why are you buying stuff now only to have to lug it back with you?” he asked with a suspicious tone. “You people aren't military. I can see that much. So why are you here and how long are you staying? Or did they even tell you anything? They didn’t us.”

  “I think you have every right to know what's going on,” said Abigail, “and I'm going to tell you right now—whether Agent Foley likes it or not.”

  Abigail and Cal explained the whole story—except they left out any parts involving demons, angels, and the end of the world. They did tell him how Cal had been translating an ancient unknown language used by the terrorists who had been students at Washington University and how he uncovered their plot to sabotage thirty-three nuclear power plants on Christmas Day.

  “And you say this is phase one of their master plan?” said McFarland, contemplating the state he and the rest of the country now faced. “So that's why Willow Creek Ranch has become so important all of a sudden. Eighty per cent of Wyoming is actually government land. All the towns and businesses around here lease their interest from the feds, and they can call in those leases any time they want. I wonder how many others were taken over like I have been.”

  “We have a hard time finding out details,” said Cal, exasperated, “It's really irritating how they don't trust us enough to tell us things that are going to affect our lives.”

  “Well they probably don't know this,” added McFarland, “but I discovered the huge military installation they've got hidden inside the mountain. I tracked a couple of their guys just like they were coons, and I saw them going inside the giant metal doors. All I could see was a huge dark empty space from where I was hiding with my binoculars, but it's probably our own
U.S. NORAD connection.”

  “What's NORAD?” asked Cal, hoping he didn't seem too new to the planet.

  “North American Aerospace Defense. That’s in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado,” said McFarland. “It's a system jointly run by the United States and Canada, originally built for the purpose of dealing with the Soviet Union or China; or whatever the hell Communists there are out there. So here we sit, right in the middle of a battlefield.”

  “I'd rather be here than in the chaos that's going to take place on the other side of the nation,” said Abigail, sadly, “at least we’ll probably live. We have food, water, and...”

  “Guns!” McFarland answered for her. “We can blast their asses off this land. Especially if the government has the kind of fire power I think it does. And we'll survive out here. You city kids might not have the skills, but if you're willing to learn, I can teach you what you need to do to start this country all over again. Can either of you shoot?”