by Roy Bright
“This way,” a young woman’s voice says, emphasizing its instruction with a beckoning finger.
“Who are you?” Gary commands, his weapon still raised, pointing at her.
“I’ll help you.”
Still he does not move, instead remaining focused on her. He looks down at Abigail, tugging on his trousers and looking up at him, wondering if they should stay or go.
It no longer becomes their decision as a leg spikes through the roof, crunching its way through the growing hole.
He spins around, moving Abigail behind him and then walks backward with her, ushering her toward the secret door. He turns around and hesitates for a second before ducking down and checking the opening, then he passes her through as the young woman waves them forward with eager hand gestures. Once Abigail passes into the other room, he hurries through and turns around to help the stranger pull the bookcase closed, which they manage just as the creature gains entry.
The stranger motions for them to be quiet and then with care moves to the other side of the attic.
He wraps his arms around Abigail to comfort her. “Hey!” he says to the woman in a forceful whisper, as she darts off through another hole.
She ducks back through. “Come on, this way. Quick. Quick.”
He looks down at Abigail. “It’s going to be all right. Just stay very close to me. Okay?”
She nods and grabs hold of his hand as they set off to follow their rescuer.
He looks at her and sees uncertainty in her eyes, and does his best to comfort her. “I know. We’ll keep our distance as best we can.” He smiles a little.
They move through the gap in the wall into a further attic space. Behind, they hear the spider-demon tearing the first room to pieces, searching for them. This room differs from the previous in that a great deal of the roof and one side of the building is missing, demolished. Two large planks of wood, side by side, connect the building to the flat roof of another opposite. The mysterious young woman is halfway across when she turns back to them.
“Come on, slowpokes. We got some ways to go and the shiny is getting low.”
“What?” Gary says with a deep frown. “Who are you? Where are you taking us?”
“Quick, quick. The nasty comes.” She giggles and scurries off, across the remaining portion of the escape route to the adjacent roof.
His frown grows deeper. “Who the hell talks like that?” he says. He gets a better look at the girl now that they are in the open, and he estimates her age to be around 15 or 16. Dirty and bedraggled, wearing a small brown pack on her back with ripped and torn cargo pants and jacket, it is evident that she lives the life of a scavenger, and that fires up more dread inside him. This girl makes him nervous, despite how young she appears to be.
Behind them the creature has made it into the second room and Gary knows that it is only a matter of time before it gets to them. He examines the wooden floorboard under their feet and prays that they will be strong enough to hold them both. Picking Abigail up in his arms, he tests them with a foot, tentative and slow, then throws caution to the wind and hurries across them. The boards creak under their weight and fear strikes him cold, scared that they won’t hold and that they will plummet to their deaths on the smashed street below. But he remains focused, determined, and hopeful and their luck holds as they make it safely to the other side. He glances back, expecting to see the demon following them but he does not and he is thankful for that. The grinning girl beckons to them as she hops onto another set of boards leading across to yet another flat-roofed building. “Uggh, more wood,” he says, scowling at it. “Just hang onto me, sweetie, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, tightening her grip around his neck, but not tight enough to restrict his airway.
“Atta-girl,” he says, then runs across the rooftop to the other set of boards. As before, he tests them gingerly with his foot. This time the distance between the roofs isn’t as far as before, and he feels much more confident in crossing them given how sturdy they look.
They follow the girl, repeating the process several times as they cross the Detroit skyline. A thin mist has formed around the city below, obscuring its streets and as the sun sets it becomes difficult to remember how much danger exists down there, such is the splendor of the view with the orange sky hanging over it. They enter the side of another ruined building and instead of heading down, as Gary would have, she leads them up.
“Why are we going up?” Gary asks, confused.
“Up. Across. In.” The girl replies without looking at him.
Her scant reply causes him to look down at Abigail and shake his head, then offer her a reassuring hand and follow the girl.
At several points during the long ascent, Gary attempts to engage her in conversation but is met only by a smirk and the instruction to “hurry-hurry,” causing his caution levels to increase. The way in which she talks has alarm bells ringing loud and clear in his head; it just isn’t natural. Her phrasing and weird choice of words, like describing the sun as ‘the shiny’ and the creature as ‘the nasty,’ worries him and as they follow her through a door leading into a ruined apartment , its outer wall missing with more boards leading to another building opposite, he has had enough.
“Okay, stop. Stop!” he commands, pulling the door shut behind him. “We are not taking another step until you tell us who you are and where we’re going. We have others that we need to find and as best as I can tell we are moving further away from them, not to mention, up.”
The girl darts back toward them with a smile. “Yes, others. Hurry-hurry-hurry.”
He frowns, shaking his head, wondering whether she has psychological problems, possibly brought on by a deep traumatic incident during the collapse. He reaches out to take her arm and she jerks the limb away from him.
“No touchy-touchy,” she says with a scowl upon her face.
“I’m sorry. No touching,” he raises the palms of his hands to her in appeasement. “I just need to know where we’re going. We need to find this girl’s family. We are worried about them.”
The girl’s smile returns. “Yes. Yes! Family. Good. Come, come.”
She turns and scurries off toward the wide, thick boards connecting the two buildings and his conclusion is that her behavior must be as a result of mental trauma. He reaches around and lowers Abigail to the ground. “Look, sweetie. I think there is something wrong with that girl and I don’t fully trust her, but let’s get street-side and see where we are. Then we will make a decision whether to follow her or not.”
“I need to find my brother and sister,” she says, a deep longing in her eyes.
“I know, I know and we will. I promise. Let’s just get out of this building, okay?”
She nods.
He ambles toward the edge and holds out a hand to halt Abigail’s movement as he peers over the edge of the ruined wall. They are a long way up, and even he feels the nauseating effect of vertigo. The young girl darts across the boards with little care for what height they are at and Gary’s eyes open wide in amazement. He then turns around and kneels in front of Abigail. “We take it slow. I’ll go first and test the strength of the boards, then you come over, nice and slow, and do not look down. You got it?”
She smiles at him and nods vigorously.
“Okay, cool.” He says, tweaking her chin with his thumb and forefinger and offering her a small smile. Standing up, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tests the boards with a foot and to his surprise feels them to be very rigid indeed and so steps onto them with confidence. He moves to the other building and then turns around, beckoning to Abigail with his hand.
With no fear in her eyes whatsoever, Abigail steps onto the boards and, with her arms out by her sides, walks across the boards much faster than Gary had, causing the man to smile and shake his head at her bravery.
As she reaches him, Gary holds out a hand and guides her into the apartment within the second building. He touches the side of her cheek. “Brave as
a lioness,” he says, smiling at her once more and causing her to giggle.
The girl, who is now stood at the door to the apartment squeals at them. “Good. Good.” She says, clapping her hands together and then darts off into the hallway.
They follow her as she rushes off to a stairwell at the far end of the corridor.
Running down flight after flight, Gary estimates them to have been around 20 stories up, so getting to the ground floor will take them a while.
A clanking noise below halts their progress and the girl drops to one knee, holding out her left arm to check their movement. She cocks her head to one side and closes her eyes, seeking out further noises in an attempt to pinpoint the source. She remains that way for a short time, turning her head from side to side in slow movements. Her head snaps toward Gary and she thrusts her arm out at him as he attempts to move and peer over the balcony.
He scowls at her, flicks his hands up, and shakes his head, mouthing in silence “Well, what?”
She closes her eyes once again, returning to aurally searching for the unknown, like sonar. At last, her eyes snap open and she stands. “Is fine. Good, good. Move now.”
He shakes his head. He is growing tired of whatever is wrong with this girl. He knows that to feel this way is wrong, especially if she is suffering from some sort of mental trauma, but it has been a very long day, and furthermore his need to find Abigail’s kin is starting to consume him. He knows that if he doesn’t get some answers soon, or isn’t able to assert some control over their situation, he may start to make poor decisions out of anxiety and he does not want that to happen. He decides that they need to, as soon as possible thank their rescuer, get to the bottom floor, and be on their own way so that he can control what they do and where they go.
Scavenger girl flits off down the stairs once again, hopping over debris as she travels and they follow her, taking great care not to kick or disturb the vast amount of trash littering the stairwell. At long last, their descent is over and they make their way to an open door at the base of the stairs.
The girl stops at the doorframe and peers into a large entrance hall.
From behind her, Gary looks in also, noting how fancy the entrance hall must have looked before the building went to wrack and ruin. He surmises that they must be in former uptown Detroit and that the building in which they currently reside would have been an apartment block for the wealthy, such is the grandeur of its entrance.
The young woman turns to them and smiles. “Is good. Is time.”
“Time?” Gary asks, “Time for what?”
“Time to go.” She hurries off into the entrance hall.
Gary doesn’t like this; he doesn’t like it one bit. He pulls Abigail into the back of his legs. “Stay… very… close.” He raises his weapon and edges his way into the hall. Ahead, the girl stands at the entrance doors, holding them open.
“Come, come,” she says, grinning. “Is time. Is time.”
He glances up to see a first floor balcony and his heart sinks as hooded figures move out of its shadows and into view. “Fuck!” he says, hearing the familiar sound of weapons being cocked. Frustration overpowers him, knowing that there is nothing he could have done to prevent this, such was the cleverness in which the bait had led its prey to just where it needed it to be. He holds his rifle above his head and glances down at Abigail who for once has fear in her eyes with small tears welling up in them. “It’ll be okay, sweetie,” he says, although knowing that their situation is far from okay. He sees the girl at the door look through it and then back at him. She giggles with glee and taps her hands together at tips of the fingers, her face deranged, nowhere as innocent as before. He starts to feel genuine fear for their situation.
A powerful looking hand grabs the edge of the door and the girl moves out of the way, back into the hallway, her head lowered. Through it steps a huge, hulking man, his bald head covered in tattoos, a large fur coat draped around him, and Gary thinks the whole look to be surreal, bizarre, like a bad take on a trashy post-apocalyptic movie. If it wasn’t for the man’s physicality and terrifying appearance, he would think the whole thing to be camp and hilarious.
The man turns toward the girl and cups the side of her face. “Good work, Stoat,” he says, with a deep, gruff voice. “Looks like the last of them.”
“Last of who?” Gary probes. “Who are you?”
Despite his size, the man moves with surprising speed and he is upon Gary in seconds. “Food does not speak,” he says, smashing a fist into his face, knocking him unconscious with one punch.
***
Nathan crouches on the balcony of a building overlooking a street in which Conrad, Isaac, and Sarah are kneeling, their hands on their heads. Around them lie the bodies of men that Conrad appears to have beaten to death with his bare hands, but the sheer number of armed militia that now has them surrounded has put an end to his fighting and he remains subdued.
One of them tells the prisoners to get on their feet, reinforcing his command by kicking Conrad in his chest. The huge Ukrainian does not so much as flinch, instead inches his gaze up to the man who takes a small step back, then aims his rifle at Conrad who continues to eye him for a few seconds longer before turning to the Fishers and helping them onto their feet. The armed men form a cordon around them and march them off, heading northeast. Nathan scowls, and makes his way down to the street, following them at a distance.
***
Two men drag an unconscious Gary out of the building, his feet scraping along the floor, with Abigail and Stoat following them, Stoat’s arm draped across her shoulder in what to the unknowing eye would appear to be a friend or older sibling comforting the younger. Neither of those things are true, however, and the tear tracks down Abigail’s terrified face confirm that.
The men haul Gary into a silver Humvee.
“Put her in the vehicle,” the huge man says, pointing at Abigail, and Stoat bundles her in next to the slumped Gary. The duplicitous young woman is about to get out of the car when he stops her. “No, no, Stoat. You have done well. You shall ride with me.”
The look upon her face is more than happiness, it is pride, honor that she is allowed to ride with the leader. She claps her hands together and jumps into the truck next to the child. “Shiny, shiny,” she says to Abigail with a broad smile on her face.
The man turns to the rest of his crew. “You men make your way back to base and pick up anything you find. It has been a good day today but more is always welcome. We will eat well tonight.”
They cheer, raising their weapons into the air.
“Go, go!” he says, waving them away and they do so without hesitation. He climbs into the front passenger seat of the vehicle and it drives away.
Above them, a scouter demon snarls and wheels in the air, heading back to its Commander, Lord Astaroth, to report its findings.
Forty-Three
Judas walks across the wooden floor within the vast antechamber, his footsteps echoing with each step, reverberating all around. The room reveals little of its interior such is the sparseness of the lighting, so he blinks his eyes open and shut rapidly, activating Divine vision, an angelic ability that enables him to see in the dark. Around him stand many of the same stone statues that he fought below and he stops and stares at them for a few moments, waiting for them to crunch into life and attack, but they do not. They remain lifeless, as statues should. He glances at Ikazuchi as the sword speaks to him.
“Remember, Judas. You must not kill him until I have defeated Leviathan.”
He frowns. “His weapon?”
“Yes. And my brother.”
He looks around. “Hmm. A Sword of Power. This is beginning to make sense.” He holds his right hand out, giving Azazel permission to materialize, and the sword detaches from his body, transforming into his demon form to the side of him. “Zadkiel. What did he do to Zadkiel?”
“It is his power, Judas. Whatever Leviathan kills, he absorbs, draining the life essence, knowledge
, and any abilities of his victim, acquiring them for himself.”
Judas ponders this for a moment. “Is he like you, able to take on other forms?”
“Yes. We share the exact same ability in that respect. It is only in the realm of man where our power is restricted.” He laughs, “You should see us in Hell, we are something to behold.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to take your word on that.”
Azazel grins, emitting a low growl from the back of his throat.
He looks at the demon for a moment. “What’s your game, Azazel? What are you playing at?”
“There is no game, Judas, there is only the plan.”
“The plan? What plan?”
“You need to know where the Seal and The Book is, yes? And I can tell you this much, Barachiel will not willingly tell you. The only way to do that is to defeat him with his own weapon’s power. When I defeat my brother, I will gain his ability and will be able to absorb our victims. And when you defeat Barachiel, we will know everything that he knows. There will be no need to question him, no need to make empty, pointless threats, we will simply… know.”
Torches hanging from the walls around them spark into flame, interrupting their conversation and causing Judas to deactivate his Divine vision with another blink of his eyes. He spins to his left as Barachiel’s voice booms out.
“So, Iscariot. You wish to know all, do you?” He laughs. “This will be an interesting fight I am sure. But tell me, Betrayer, have you conquered your sword yet? Do you even understand its true power?”
Judas holds out his right hand and Azazel leaps into the air, transforming back into Ikazuchi, landing within his grasp. “I wield it, don’t I? So I know enough.”
