Fear of God (Trials of Strength Book 1)

by Matthew Bell, Jr

  Beside him, Gina looked terrible with her eyes wide and red with unshed tears. I nodded, stood, and walked to the door, leaving my things behind me. It was difficult to get my legs to work as my heart thudded faster and my skin started to itch.

  I turned, and the faces of my peers worsened out of the sight of questioning eyes. Both then looked shocked and scared, their mouths opened and closed as they tried to figure out what to say. Gina tried to go first, but her voice wouldn’t leave her body, and she looked desperately at Mr Williams who, in turn, paled.

  We stood that way for a few minutes, the classroom we’d left burst with noise as it did whenever the teacher left, but Mr Williams didn’t seem to notice. His eyes darted from my face, to my shoes, to the bright lights above. His feet shifted uncomfortably and he took a deep breath.

  ‘Son, your mother just phoned in, and, um,’ he started and swallowed. ‘She had bad news.’

  Every hair on my body sprang to life. The lights seemed to dim, and any exhaustion that lingered vanished.

  ‘What bad news?’ I asked, but I had to clear my throat and ask again.

  They both just stared at me, eyes crinkled with pity.

  ‘What bad news?’ I shouted, harsher than I’d meant to.

  They jumped slightly, and Mr Williams almost choked.

  ‘I’m sorry son, but your Dad’s had a heart attack,’ he whispered. ‘Your Mum asked us to tell you to go home, and she’ll call with any news.’

  He said it in a rush, but to me it felt like every word lasted far too long. My insides dipped and the world spun. I waited in the silence for the part where they laughed and joked about how they’d got me, but that was wishful thinking, and a joke like that would be sick.

  I turned and ran.

  I sprinted through the clean hallways, the shocked faces of students stared as I went. I hit the entrance, and barged through the glass doors when I stopped. I shook, convinced that any minute then, the bile at the back of my throat would burst free. I took several deep breaths and grabbed a fistful of my hair. I couldn’t think, any thought I conjured swirled and turned into panic.

  No matter what, I love you.

  My mother’s desperate words echoed in my brain. Had she known? Had she suspected something might happen? If it had only just happened, how had she known? I knew something was wrong, and what did I do? I left, abandoned her when I had suspected something, abandoned her out of fear.

  I started forward again with a fresh wave of guilt, and as I rushed through the streets, I almost knocked over innocent bystanders. Thankfully, Main Street was almost empty at that time. Men and women would be returning home from work and school soon, planning to settle down for the night with their families. I pushed that thought away as I turned onto my street, jumped the fence around my garden, and crashed into the door.

  ‘Mum?’ I shouted, but knew she wouldn’t be there.

  I felt my pockets for my mobile, but came up empty and remembered it was in my bag at college. I inhaled a few breaths and walked into the living room. I grabbed the wireless landline and dialled my mother’s number from memory. I paced as adrenaline made my skin jump. When I heard nothing on the phone I checked the screen and almost screamed. I pulled at my hair as I realised I’d dialled the wrong number and started again, taking my time and willing my hands to steady.

  I never saw him often, but the thought of something happening to my father sent chills through my veins. Not only him though. I didn’t think my mother could handle him being gone, never having the chance to have those proper family moments she dreamed of. It would tear this family apart, and that was something that couldn’t fit in our safe, predictable lives. Then again, when were we ever really safe? I dug my fingers into my eyes, trying to gouge those thoughts from my mind.

  A ringing dial tone met my ears and I stopped breathing to listen, waiting for her to answer. I jumped as an old 80s pop song echoed throughout the house, and turned to the door, my forehead creased.

  She left it here! She left her mobile here!

  I gritted my teeth. I had to wait until she called with something, and patience was never my strong suit. With the landline still in my hand, I hunted the ringing phone down. It didn’t take long, the kitchen door was closed, but behind it was definitely the source. I pushed the door and it creaked open slowly. My heart stopped and the phone in my hand hit the floor.

  There, in the middle of the kitchen, behind the table I had had breakfast at just that morning, was a body. The table hid most of it, two legs barely visible at the edge. But those shoes, those trousers…

  ‘Mum?’ I whispered, my voice threatened to leave.

  I started into the room, but my legs had filled with lead, and they almost collapsed from beneath. The kitchen twisted in my vision as my head lightened and my stomach churned. Just next to the body’s shoes was a sickening puddle of red. It looked thick, like syrup.

  Oh, god. Please, be okay, please…

  ‘Mum?’ I repeated.

  There was no answer, and selfishly, I stopped. I couldn’t round the table, couldn’t confirm or deny if it was her because the ramifications of confirmation were too much. It couldn’t happen, those things didn’t happen, not to us. I knew that was childish, but I’d held onto the simplicity of our lives for as long as I could remember, and nothing fit together then.

  I stared wide-eyed at the pool of blood. I was oblivious to the rest of the world, and before I could react, footsteps filled the hall behind me. There was sharp pain at the back of my skull.

  And the world blinked into darkness.

  The Trigger

  It was safe there among such soft, white clouds. I floated, flying like a bird. Pain and darkness were a bitter memory, something that couldn’t touch me there. I closed my eyes and journeyed through the endless white. I was safe. I was free.

  And then I wasn’t. The clouds turned dark, as black as midnight and screams filled the air. Countless screeches filled with terror and pain. There was one nearby, someone screaming high pitched, in fear for their life.

  No, it wasn’t someone else, it was me.

  Whatever force kept me aloft abandoned me. I fell, hard and fast, to the nightmares that lay below…

  *

  At first I didn’t realise I was conscious. The ground below was soft, but it spun sickeningly. I could feel a sharp throbbing in my head, and something warm slid down the back of my neck. I tried to collect my thoughts, but the pain had set my ears ringing and I groaned. Two voices stopped. Voices I only realised were there after they were gone.

  Restrained and gagged, stuck in a nightmare reality where help was a dream.

  The nightmare flashed through my mind, but I wasn’t dreaming, and I couldn’t feel anything tying me down or blocking my mouth. I was also on the floor. I tried to move, face my attackers, but my head seared and I bit the inside of my cheek. A hand rested on my shoulder, and someone’s warm breath hit my ear.

  ‘Not now. I need you to stay down for a while,’ a man’s voice whispered.

  I felt a small prick on my neck and a warm haze settled over my mind. It spread downwards, numbing my arms and legs, my entire body pain free and light like a feather. A contented sigh escaped my lips, and the strange man chuckled.

  ‘You have no idea what’s in store,’ he said gleefully, ‘but don’t worry, Subject 17, I’ll be looking out for you. Make me proud.’

  He left my side and the world shifted. The floor became softer, swallowing me. The strong haze intensified, and again, I was forced from the world.

  *

  When I woke again I shivered, ice had settled in my bones and my breath came out as mist. I shifted onto my side and almost screamed. The agony in my head was back, and it thumped in time with my erratic heart. I was groggy as I moved to sit up. I lay on the rug in the living room taking breaths that hitched in my throat. The weak sun was gone from the world outside and the sky was starless.

  I reached round the back of my head and gasped as my hand fel
l on a golf ball-sized lump. It was sticky too, and when I brought my hand back, blood stained my fingertips. I flinched to the side and threw up, retching until there was nothing left. I coughed and tried to breath, forcing my brain to work and remember.

  Who the hell had attacked me, thieves? That man, he had said something, but the words eluded me. I stood slowly and tried to settle my stomach. For a minute I just swayed on the spot, breathing through my nose when I remembered. Mum.

  I walked as quickly as I could to the kitchen and my eyes searched the darkness for monsters and bodies. But I found none, no hidden attackers and no body by the kitchen table. I closed my eyes tightly and opened them. No, there was no body. At first I was relieved, then terrified. Was that body my mother? If so, where was she? My Dad… Was he alright?

  I leaned against the wall as another bout of sickness hit, and slid down to the floor. What the hell was going on? My head fell in my hands and I tried to keep tears from falling. Reality was breaking, turning into a nightmare. I spotted the landline where it had landed, and picked it up. I dialled my mother’s number, and hoped for an answer. It didn’t ring, just went straight to voicemail. I hung up and bit my lip.

  I dialled emergency services, waited, and pressed the corresponding number for the police. Frustratingly, I received a busy dial tone and cancelled the call. I gave it a few minutes and tried again, still busy. The tears fell, it was impossible to describe the variety of emotions that crushed my insides, but none were good.

  I got up again, and threw the phone off the wall. I needed help. I needed to get moving. I looked to the front door and slouched over to it. It was wide open, explaining the teeth chattering chill that had invaded the house. It had never been cold, my home, always warm and safe, my mother greeting me with a loving smile every time I entered.

  I was about to leave when I stopped. Something itched in the back of my mind, something I could do to answer one of the many questions I was faced with. I made my way through the house, but only the downstairs, where the most expensive things sat. Nothing was missing. I shivered as confusion sent shooting pains across my skull.

  They weren’t thieves.

  I hurried back to the door and out onto the empty streets. All the houses were dark, their occupants probably asleep, safe and sound in their beds. I envied them, their unremarkable lives untouched, while mine was being lit with fire. I could’ve sprinted around the doors screaming for help, but the thought didn’t enter my mind. That probably saved my life. I walked as fast as my legs would take me, stopping every now and again for air. I had one goal, and I had to make it.

  I turned onto Main Street, and just when I thought I’d had enough surprises for a lifetime, my ignorance kicked me in the teeth. The street was chaos, a deserted hell. Cars lay empty, doors open and windows smashed. Shops had been wrecked, their contents spilling into the street and from some, the lights flickered. Rubbish littered the pavements and roads; glass from windows coated the ground along with something red and shiny. As if on cue, a black bin bag drifted across my vision, like tumbleweed in an old western.

  I wanted to scream, but it couldn’t be real, I refused to believe it. I started to jog and ignored the agony in my head. My heart rattled painfully and I almost threw up again. It was joke, a cruel, despicable joke. The things that happened, they couldn’t happen, they couldn’t happen. Still, I swallowed the scream that threatened to break free. If horror films teach you anything, it’s never to scream.

  I turned the last corner and the squat glass building came into view. Its light was like a beacon of hope. The police could help, they would have the answers. I walked up the ramp to the doors, pushed them open, and walked from one nightmare to another.

  I fell to my knees.

  The police station was destroyed. Paper was sprawled everywhere and the glass barriers separating officers from the general public had been shattered. Phones hung off their hooks, explaining why I couldn’t get through.

  The air felt thin, each breath harder to take than the last. I was suffocating, I couldn’t breathe. I drew in quick ragged breaths of air, desperate to satisfy my gasping lungs. I couldn’t handle this. Not something like this, everyone gone, the town near destroyed. The world I’d come to take for granted was crumbling into my worst nightmare.

  I ran back outside, trying to quell the panic that threatened to reach dangerous heights. I was vaguely aware of walking the streets, my feet taking control and moving in any direction. I wanted to scream but part of me was still afraid to. The town was so empty, so barren and dead. I pushed open a set of doors, looked around for my bearings and realised I’d travelled back to the place where my world first started to crumble. I was back at the college.

  I travelled through the hallways, finally setting myself to the task of finding my mobile. Was there a number you could phone for this? There had to be, there was a number for everything, right? But it wasn’t that easy, for fate had different plans, and was desperate never to let me find peace again. I turned into the open doorway to my class, and the scream finally released itself from my throat.

  Blood, blood everywhere, dark and red and filling the air with a repulsive smell that made me gag. The cream walls of the class were caked in it, the floor soaked with it, and the cause? Bodies, dozens of bodies lay around the room, eyes wide and mouths open with long dead screams for help. I could only stare at the carnage, sense told me to move, run, get the hell away from the anarchy and back outside.

  Then I saw him.

  A man stood in the epicentre of the destruction, as if the bloodshed radiated from him, and then I realised: It did. His back faced me, his clothes soaked crimson and a knife in his hand dripped with the blood of its victims. I stared as he turned. I looked into his vacant eyes, a hollow shell of the person he once was.

  ‘Mr Williams,’ I whispered, ‘Mr…’

  I couldn’t speak, my voice was lost. I wished then I hadn’t been so impulsive and screamed. It never ends well. A second, one blink of an eye, and he was on me. He hit me hard and we both tumbled back into the hallway. My head hit the solid tiles with a crack and the world began pulling in at the edges. He was on top and he screamed with rage. An anger matched only by my fear.

  He raised the knife, and brought it down. Instinctively I reacted, my hand flew up to meet his, and I caught it just before the blade sunk into my neck. I was lost in agony as my arm creaked, the strength of the being on top almost overwhelming. Such strength… My screams mixed with his and I could feel my energy draining. The knife moved closer, the tip almost touched my skin.

  I don’t want to die. Please!

  But my thoughts couldn’t save me. My vision blurred and I knew this was it. This was where and how I would die.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  The sounds pierced the air and rang in my skull. The pressure of Mr Williams’ hand lessened and gave way. The knife clattered to the floor and his eyes glazed over. I pushed with my remaining strength, and he keeled onto the ground beside me. A few metres away a shadowy figure stood, something smoking in his hand.

  A gun. I tried to process it, but the world was leaving.

  A gun?

  The man ran over and grabbed me. He shook violently, and shouted words I couldn’t acknowledge. But I was fading fast and soon to be gone. I wanted to be gone, I wanted to wake up in bed and have that whole day be another nightmare I wouldn’t forget. He yelled something again and cocked his head in the air, listening. A chorus of screams bounced off the walls of the corridor and the man’s face fell. I almost laughed at the transformation, until I realised that that couldn’t be good.

  But as the thunderous footsteps clattered from somewhere down the hall, I clocked out, lost to darkness.

  The Angel

  I was never leaving this place. I would always be restrained, voiceless and afraid.

  There would always be whispers in the dark, and cracks of thunder.

  A fire from hell would be my only fate.

  *


  Again I woke from that nightmare, hope for a new day renewed. I kept my eyes closed as I always did and drew in what I expected to be fresh air. My lungs filled with something thick and old and full of dampness. There was a steady dripping sound a few feet away, rhythmic and out of place. The ground I was sprawled on was not a soft mattress, and the hushed voices were foreign to my room.

  I shifted and gave a grunt. My head thumped in time with my heart as I tried to remember what had happened. Iron bars shut me out from the memory. I couldn’t remember, no, I didn’t want to remember.

  Someone gasped somewhere close, and then a scream erupted from the other side of the room.

  ‘It’s awake!’ the woman who had screamed shouted.

  It?

  Movement exploded around me and my heavy eyes flashed open. A woman sat a few feet away, eyes wide and mouth open, the one who had gasped. Next to her stood three men, arms extended, angry snarls etched into their faces.

  ‘You move, you die, simple,’ the one in the middle shouted, spit flew in all directions. ‘You answer our questions, or you die. Got it?’

  I stared bewildered. There was something in their hands, something familiar but…

  Guns.

  I tried to scramble backwards, away from the menacing barrels of death, the man’s words forgotten. The woman close by moved in front and shielded me from the weapons, her hair flying around her head like a fiery halo.

  ‘Stop it! Get those out of his face and give him a second to breath, damn you!’ she said, her voice loud but calm.

  ‘Anna, get out of the way. Now!!’ the man replied. ‘No chances. We were told. He gets no chances.’

  The two men at his side had faces as pale as the moon, sweat clung to them and their arms shook, threatening to slip on the trigger.