The Apollyon Game
Page 4
Undaunted, Callie continued to sit. Ironically, she wasn’t praying; she was deep in thought. The smells of the room, the vision of what she had seen tonight and Portia’s ongoing tirade all were working against her mind. She wanted to answer cleanly. If she thought God was going to save her — and honestly believed that in her soul — she wanted to say so. If there was doubt, she wanted to express that. In a sense, her conscious mind would have to give way to her immanent consciousness for salvation.
“Callie!” Portia screamed.
Callie did not answer.
“You’ve got ten seconds! You had better answer!”
There was still time for thought. Not yet.
“Five seconds.”
What was the answer?
“Four!”
Ah, yes, of course!
“Thr—”
“I do,” Callie said flatly. “I do believe God will save me.”
She covered her face as a tear trickled down her cheek. She had been honest, perhaps more accurate than she had ever been in her entire life. Such honestly had exhausted her emotionally, and she continued to weep. Portia watched her for a moment, curious about what she was seeing. Anticipating the Spirits to claim their prize Portia waited for a sound, a movement, a shifting shadow. None came.
Callie had answered truthfully.
Before Portia could even protest, Callie had taken hold of the Spirit Card she had not used earlier in the night. She didn’t care what was on the card and left it face down in front of her.
The game piece had other plans. It spirited from Callie’s hand and rested at the dead-center of the circle next to the white bowl as if the bowl had ripped it from her hands. She took a moment to observe it and then reached out to grab it again. Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe the Spirits were coming to take her. A time of fear crept into Callie’s heart. She had answered honestly, and she knew it. Was this game rigged that much?
During all this, the Spirit Card Callie had received earlier in the game was turned face-side up. She looked down at the card and see what was on it gave her pause. Portia looked at the card too. Both women became entranced at what they saw, one out of relief and the other out of dread.
You have drawn the Angelic Savior, a spirit that will protect you should you have the need. You may proceed to the next round as Soulcatcher, but your Soultender has lost and must suffer all the spirits drawn before.
The card was decorated with a painted image of an Indian woman dressed in blue robes with white clouds surrounding her arms and feet. It wasn’t the image Callie had anticipated but what else had been this evening?
For Portia, it was the ultimate defeat. She knew what the Angelic Savior was. It was one of the very few cards in the deck that saved the Soulcatcher, and in particular, turned the full wrath of the game’s demons on the Soultender.
“I don’t believe it. No! No! No!” Portia screamed.
It was the card Callie had the entire time and the irony of this did not escape her. Despite all that had happened, it appeared she was indeed protected the whole time. Whether through divine intervention (as Callie suspected) or dumb luck (as Portia believed) this was the fate of the game. Portia’s vengeance had been turned on her.
“You little bitch!” she yelled at Callie.
There was no time for argument. The air in the room turned numbingly cold. Both girls could see their breaths bursting and disappearing in the room. A light came from the Pith Die, dark red and pulsating. The entire apartment was lathered in the unnatural glow, casting solid black shadows where it could not illuminate.
Then the laughing began. The Jackyl was lurking behind Portia, licking at its long nails, salivating over it’s next victim. The fat butcher had also returned, appearing silently from behind Callie but passing her over for Portia. Whatever abomination that had consumed Latoya could be heard pounding at the walls of the bedroom, starving for new flesh. Above Portia, the hands of the demon that had claimed Meredith swiped at her from the ceiling; its talons curled into great hooks that nipped at the top of Portia’s dark hair.
Even though she knew they were not there for her, Callie felt a great unease at their presence. She backed into the kitchen, the only place in the apartment where the red light didn’t penetrate, folding her arms around herself.
“Help me,” Portia whispered to Callie. “You have to help me.”
Callie didn’t know what to say. The demons were making their way towards her, slowly stalking her and savoring their victim’s whimpers and sobs. Callie wanted to help Portia. Her mind was working through ways in which she could. But there was nothing she could do. The power of whatever evil lay within this game was in full control. Portia had sealed her fate long before this moment, and nothing would be able to stop what was coming.
The Jackyl struck first, sinking its teeth deep into Portia’s arm. It uncontrollably giggled and slurped as it tasted her blood on its tongue. The fat butcher was next, wrapping his massive hands around Portia’s leg, tugging at her violently. The wall to Portia’s left burst open and a long strand of greenish-brown flesh, dotted with boils and quivering bumps, wrapped itself around her torso. Callie couldn’t see what monster was at the other end, nor did she dare move from her spot to look. Lastly, the swiping talons from above Portia finally took hold of the top of her skull, the hooked fingernails pressing deep into her flesh.
During this entire trauma, Portia had not let loose a single scream or cry. In fact, Callie could swear she saw a smile on Portia’s face. Even as the blood flowed from her limbs, the tendons in her legs stretched to snapping, her ribs cracked to the point of becoming powder, and her skull compressing her brain, Portia stood silently with a smirk.
“Portia,” Callie muttered, tears now coming to her eyes as she watched her once-friend being mutilated before her eyes. “I’m sorry. I will pray for your soul.”
The smirk turned into a scowl, and Portia spat blood at Callie just as the Jackyl took another bite of her. She then cocked her head to the side and bit her lip, drawing more blood on her own, and licked the fresh wound clean with her tongue.
“Keep your prayers bitch. The devil is my messiah!”
A second later, her body was ripped into pieces. Callie let out a cry, but it was too late. Her vision was blinded by the red glare of the Pith Die, which had grown so intense that she needed to cover her eyes with her palms for fear they’d be burned out of her skull. A nauseating noise of eating and laughing whirled throughout the room like a foul echo. After a few seconds, it dispersed as did the haunting red light.
Callie opened her eyes slowly and slid her palms from her face. The room was empty now. Neither the demons nor any remains of Portia had been left behind. The litter of the other victims still lay in the room, scattered here and there, rotting and festering.
At that moment, Callie’s sympathy for Portia had vanished. There was nothing to be remorseful about. Portia was not her responsibility, and whatever evil she had conjured had lay claim to her soul long before tonight. The only thing Callie had done was save herself from being another victim.
She went to the center of the living room where the Pith Die and the white bowl remained. Both were stained with the waste of murder. Inside the bowl were pieces of all the victims. She could see a slab of flesh with a tattoo that she recognized from Kerry, a finger that belonged to Meredith, several teeth — one which was gold plated — that belonged to Latoya, and a clump of hair that was clearly Liz’s. Nothing in the bowl of what she could see was of Portia and Callie knew why.
She remembered earlier that Liz had said Portia could stop the game if she wanted to. Perhaps Portia had done so with her final words.
As Callie had been embraced by her God, so too had Portia.
The front door of the apartment swung open. Callie turned to see who or what had forced its way into the apartment. She hoped the cops were coming. Surely someone had heard the noise and screams during the night. How she would explain being the only living person at a
scene of such dismemberment she didn’t know.
To her surprise, a small man wearing a yellow pastel suit came through the open door. He casually observed the aftermath in the apartment and walked to the white bowl on the floor. Callie watched him as he passed by her, paying her no attention at all.
He picked up the bowl and swirled the inside of the blood-stained porcelain with his index finger and then sucked on the residue. A grin crossed his lips and as he placed the bowl inside a grocery store bag and tied it shut.
“Who are you?” Callie said.
The man did not answer.
“Did you hear me? I said who are you? What are you doing?”
He still ignored her and proceeded towards the open door. Callie followed him for a moment, but then stopped as the smell of the dead overwhelmed her again. She clutched at her stomach but regained her composure.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” she pleaded, feeling sick and saddened as she realized fully what had happened tonight.
The man in the yellow suit stopped. He scratched the back of his head and turned to look at Callie. She could see him now. His ears were large, his eyes a light blue, his teeth as yellow as his suit and his head balding.
“Thank you, for being you Callie,” the man said.
With that, he continued out the front door. Callie went into the stairwell and watched him, puzzled and shaken, as he walked out of the apartment building into the blackness of the night.
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The Brothers Locke - An Urban Fantasy Adventure
The Brothers Locke is an urban fantasy adventure that will appeal to fans of high adventure, fast-paced action, wild environments, and a sprinkle of magic. From fleeing the city of Avidity, to being trapped by ghosts and monsters in the darkness of Black Harvester Forest, to being captured by air pirates known as the Crimson Corsairs, to battling hybrid man-bat mutants and their sinister master Von Strauss, this urban fantasy adventure is filled with vibrant characters, imaginative locations, and fast-paced action.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Clive Reznor is a mysterious social media personality who has been behind many extreme videos and postings around the web. Preferring to stay in the shadows, little else is known about this elusive figure.
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Reproducing this book without permission from the author or the publisher is an infringement of its copyright. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any actual events or persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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AOE Studios publication: September 2017
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