TORMENT - A Novel of Dark Horror

by Jeremy Bishop

  “Don’t even bother with those,” Garbarino said.

  “Right,” she replied, moving to the cupboards, which were surprisingly barren. “They must stock up only for events.”

  “Found the bread,” Garbarino said. He stood aside revealing a tall cupboard filled with blackened, rotting loaves of bread.

  The crusty black rot reminded her of Mark’s face. She turned away quickly and leaned her head down on the counter. When she did, she saw two small bags of Cheez-It crackers. She took both bags and tossed one to Garbarino. “Bingo.”

  “He opened his and dug in. “So good,” he said, but stopped chewing when he saw she wasn’t eating. “You don’t think they’re radioactive or something?”

  “Saving mine for Liz.”

  He shook his bag at her. “Take some of mine, then.”

  They quickly ate the bag of Cheez-Its, did one more pass of the kitchen and found a package of one-hundred calorie cookies, which they saved for the others. As they walked back down the hall toward the foyer, Garbarino took a pamphlet from one of many dispensers attached to the walls. He read through it quickly.

  “Well this explains a lot,” he said, handing the green, tri-fold pamphlet to her.

  “Get right with God, give to His Church,” she read aloud. She opened it and read from the inside. “God’s grace is bestowed upon those who have faith. Faith is expressed through tithing. Those who tithe the minimum ten percent will experience God’s grace as promised, but those who give more, who express their faith in miraculous ways will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.” She turned to Garbarino. “I’ve been to church on Christmas and Easter for most of my life and even I know this is bullshit.”

  Garbarino motioned to the massive stained glass windows as they entered the foyer again. “God will bless you if you give him your money. Looks like people were buying it.”

  Mia looked at the back of the pamphlet. There was a picture of a middle-aged man in a suit coat. His teeth sparkled. His hair had been slicked back. His eyes were such a pale hazel they looked almost yellow. And the hands clasped on his raised knee were covered in large rings. Beneath the photo was the name: Pastor Billy Jackson M.D. Beneath the pastor was an image of a small vial of yellow oil attached to a cheap looking chain. She read the text beneath the vial and scoffed. “Blessed oil,” she said. “With your gracious donation, one hundred dollars minimum, Pastor Billy will send you one ounce of oil anointed by the Holy Spirit.”

  “Snake oil’s more like it,” he said, but as he looked back he stumbled over his own foot and fell to the hardwood floor. His weapon hit the floor and clattered away.

  The noise echoed in the foyer.

  Mia tensed.

  Garbarino lay still.

  Mia didn’t think the noise would have been loud enough to hear outside and she didn’t see anyone through the small windows on the outside doors. But it turned out the listening ears were already inside.

  “Hello?” said a raspy voice that belonged to no one in their crew, living or dead. “Who’s there?”

  Garbarino scrambled for his gun, picked it up and took aim in the direction of the voice.

  It came from the sanctuary.

  “Please,” said the voice. “I’m starving.”

  33

  Mia and Garbarino held their weapons at the ready and crept toward the center set of double doors. They stood to either side of the two one foot tall, six inch wide windows above the handles. “Recognize the voice?” Garbarino whispered.

  “No,” Mia replied, her voice barely audible.

  “What are you two doing?” Austin’s voice, an angry hiss, made them both jump. As Mia quickly shifted toward him, her body bumped the door.

  “Hello?” the voice shouted. “I can hear you out there.”

  Austin’s eyes widened at the voice. He ducked down and moved toward the double doors nearest to him. He stood, like them, beside the window. He quickly took a peek inside. The odd facial expression he made after looking pushed Mia’s curiosity over the edge and she took a look. Garbarino followed her lead next, peering around the door.

  The sanctuary was massive, like a theater in the round, complete with balconies. The stadium seating was plush and upholstered in royal red velvet. The stage was gaudy, decorated in gold and silver and surrounded by golden cherub statues. At the center of the stage, around which was seating for two thousand people, sat a gilded throne, upholstered in purple satin. Fit for a king.

  But there was no king on this throne. Instead it held a brittle looking man, more bones than anything. His distended belly looked like he’d swallowed a basketball. It seemed impossible that this man could still be alive. But then he spoke again.

  “Food,” he said. “Please. Give me something to eat.”

  Mia moved to enter, but Austin’s hand took hold of her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s not one of them,” she replied. “One of the killers.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because,” she said, “He’s not telling us to run away.”

  “While you’re right about that,” Garbarino said, “him being hungry doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence. He might eat people.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” she asked. “I doubt the man can move.”

  “What are you going to do?” Austin asked.

  Mia reached into Garbarino’s pocket and took out his protein bar. “I’m going to feed the man. And then, I’m going to see what he knows. If he witnessed everything change, maybe he can point us in the right direction, or a safer direction.”

  “I can hear you!” the man shouted.

  Mia tucked her handgun into the back of her pants and shoved open the door. She put on her best smile, forcing it over the revulsion she felt at seeing the man in detail, and said, “I’m coming. I have food.”

  The man tried to move, but only managed to jiggle himself lower on the throne. As Mia walked down the carpeted walkway that led to the stage, she got a closer look at the opulent sanctuary. The sides of the balcony were covered in carvings of angels, some holding banners stretched out between them. Each banner held a single word. Faith. Service. Blessings. Anointment. The words reminded her of the pamphlet selling snake-oil to the financially faithful.

  Could this whole place be built on that message?she thought. What kind of person could sell that kind of garbage and pawn it off as God?

  Her questions were answered when she got a closer look at the man on the throne. The slicked back hair was gray and messy. The sparkling white teeth had rotted brown and were now crooked. The rings, gold and encrusted with an assortment of jewels, hung loose on his bony fingers. But the eyes, they were still just as yellow. Like a snake, she thought, walking more slowly now.

  “You have food!” he said. “Give it to me!”

  She no longer saw desperation in the man’s eyes. It had been replaced by entitlement. She started up the stage stairs.

  “Keep your distance,” Austin warned.

  She looked back and found Austin and Garbarino ten feet back, weapons ready.

  “Patience is a virtue, Pastor Billy.” She held the still wrapped bar up for him to see.

  The pastor convulsed as though shocked. “Give it here!”

  “Answer some questions first.”

  His yellow eyes went wide. “Look at me!” he shouted.

  She did, and saw a shirtless man wearing pants that hung on him like curtains. Whose skin had been shrink-wrapped around his ribs and shoulders. Whose perfectly manicured face had become a hideous thing. But the same man wore precious stones and gold the likes of which she had never seen. He wore a cape made of fine fabric and clasped around his neck by a chain of pearls. And he sat on a genuine throne. The amount of precious metals and jewels on the throne alone could have fed a starving nation for a year.

  “I am looking at you,” she said, her body tensing with disgust, not just for what the man had become, but also for what he’d been before.

  �
�What happened here?” she asked.

  “What does it look like?” the man spat. “My flock has abandoned me!” He licked his dry lips and eyed the protein bar.

  “What about the rest of the world?” she asked. “Do you remember the bombs? There was a nuclear war.”

  “War?” he said. “I am hungry!”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Give me that food, you bitch!” The man leaned forward, reaching out with surprising quickness.

  Mia jumped back out of reach while Austin raised his weapon.

  “That’s far enough, buddy,” Austin said.

  The pastor regarded Austin for the first time, his eyes seething with hatred. “You and your descendants will be a curse on the ground! You will find no mercy in the pits of hell! No lenience or quarter given to those who will not repent of their sins and give to the Lord what is His. Give to the Lord what is His! Give it to me and I will bless you! Give me what I want and I will anoint you with blessings! For I am the Lord God and I command you to give Me that fucking food!”

  Austin lowered his weapon. The man had attempted to stand twice during his tirade, but couldn’t. As long as Mia stayed clear, she would be safe.

  “And you thought I was off my rocker on the EEP,” Garbarino said. “This guy needs a padded cell.”

  Pastor Billy seemed not to notice. “Tithe,” he said. “Tithe what you have and I will forgive you. I will shower you with anointing oils.”

  “Olive oil,” Garbarino said.

  “Joe...” Mia said, but he had a look in his eyes that said he needed to see this conversation through, if only to expel the anger gnawing at him.

  “Anointed by the Holy Spirit.”

  “But still, olive oil.”

  Pastor Billy grinned wickedly. “Canola. Bought in bulk. Worthless, but made priceless by my spirit. I will heal the sick. Make the poor wealthy. Clean the unclean. We were made to prosper and God will prosper us if we first show our faith by giving of ourselves. Give up you worldly possessions and follow me.”

  “And give everything to you, right?” Garbarino said, motioning to the opulent sanctuary.

  The pastor licked his lips. “What better way to continue God’s work than to fund it?”

  “I wonder how many lives you have destroyed.”

  “Lives are more easily remade after hitting rock bottom.”

  “Looks like you’re ready to be remade then, huh?” Garbarino shook his head in disgust and stepped back. “You look like you could use a bucket of snake oil yourself.”

  The pastor lurched forward, hissing. Austin, Mia and Garbarino took one big collective step back.

  “We should get back to the others,” Austin said. “He doesn’t know anything.”

  “Don’t know anything?” Pastor Billy said. “Don’t know anything? I know that you, all three of you, will taste the eternal fires of God’s holy vengeance. You will gnash your teeth and beg for mercy. You will ask for drink and none will be giv—”

  Billy Jackson shook. His eyes looked down at his trembling hands, then at the protein bar in Mia’s hands. “God, no.”

  Mia realized what the man was thinking. “You’re wrong,” she said.

  He looked at her. “No, no, no. You will not be spared.” He glanced toward the sanctuary doors, and then pointed. “Only the child will be spared!”

  Mia looked back and saw Chang, Collins and Elizabeth staring down at them. At the man.

  “The child,” he said. “The child is innocent. Not yet tainted by the world. Not yet able to understand the choice...the choice...”

  “You’re wrong,” Mia said again, unwrapping the protein bar. The man’s eyes locked on it. “There is still mercy in the world.” She tossed the bar to him. He caught it in his bony hands, losing some rings as he did, but he paid no attention to them. He gnawed on the bar like a wolf does a deer’s bones.

  She turned to Austin and Garbarino. “Let’s go.”

  As they moved up the aisle, the frightened faces of Chang, Collins and Elizabeth were easy to see. But the pastor’s condition wouldn’t account for the horrified looks on their faces. Something else was wrong.

  Austin broke into a jog. “What is it?”

  “Outside,” Chang said. “There’s a lot of them.”

  “They arrived just a few minutes ago,” Collins said. “I think they know we’re in here, but haven’t figured out a way in yet.”

  Austin looked at the six doors on the far end of the foyer. He could see bodies outside, moving around, occasionally banging on the door, but nothing more.

  “We can make a run for it,” Garbarino said. “There are plenty of other doors.”

  “They might have the whole place surrounded,” Collins said.

  “He’s right,” Austin said.

  Garbarino pushed his way through. “Then we’ll get them to come here. Attract and distract while we—” He pointed to the far end of the sanctuary where a red exit sign hung over a single metal door, “—make a run for it.”

  “What are we going to distract them with?” Austin asked.

  Mia realized Garbarino’s plan. “A fire,” she said.

  “There are six gas cans in the garage,” Garbarino added.

  Austin looked displeased. “Garage?”

  “We’ve been up for a while,” Mia said.

  Austin looked at the doors again. It seemed like they had some time. “Collins, go with them to the garage. Get all the gas you can carry in one trip. Chang, find a way up onto the balcony. Liz honey, you stay with me and watch the doors, okay?”

  Liz nodded.

  Before they left the sanctuary, Pastor Billy’s loud devouring of the protein bar drew their attention. He swallowed the final bite, moaning in ecstasy. He laughed for a moment before his face screwed with pain. Then he pitched forward and vomited. Chunks of the chocolate protein bar spilled from his mouth mixed with an impossible amount bloody fluid.

  He sucked in a loud breath and then vomited a second time, more violently than the first. “No!” he shouted and emptied his stomach a third time. He looked skinnier and frailer than he had before. “No!” he shouted again, and threw himself to the floor. He landed with a wet splat and thrashed around in his own bile.

  He hissed again and pulled himself to one of the disgorged protein chunks, picked it off the floor and ate it again. He vomited so hard in response that his back cracked when it arched. He fell again, his cape absorbing bloody liquid while he cried out, “I’m starving! I need food!”

  Leaving Pastor Billy behind, the group set about their work, preparing for what might be their last stand.

  34

  “Here!” Garbarino shouted as he burst into the garage and headed for the gasoline containers. He picked up two and handed them Collins. The next two went to Mia. He picked up the last two and found one of them empty.

  “Shit,” he mumbled. No one heard him. Mia and Collins had already gone back up the stairs. As he headed for the door, he saw a set of car keys hanging next to the door. He picked them up and inspected the Mercedes Benz logo keychain.

  When it came to cars, he was something of a safety freak. He wore his seatbelt. But he also kept a flashlight strapped beneath his seat. The flashlight had a small razor blade function that could cut through the seatbelt should it become stuck. Beyond that, he kept a small first aid kit, survival pack, orange cones, roadside flares and a full-sized spare tire. He’d supplied all of this for his own vehicle, but new, a lot of luxury car dealerships threw in safety packages as perks.

  So when he opened the trunk he wasn’t surprised to see a neatly packaged emergency kit inside. He tore into it, looking for one specific item. He smiled when he found two of them—roadside flares. They were small, but lasted a long time, and best of all, would set fire to gasoline a hell of a lot easier than trying to make a spark with a bullet.

  He pocketed the flares and reached up to close the trunk. When he did, he saw a black leather briefcase. Curious, he picked up the case and
opened in. On top of the case was an issue of Playboy. But what lay beneath the magazine really held his attention. Money. More than he could count.

  Garbarino picked up a stack of hundred dollar bills and flipped through it. He shook his head. Nothing but worthless paper, now, he thought. He took the Playboy, rolled it up and stuffed it in his pocket. He threw the briefcase back inside the trunk and left, running to catch up with the others.

  Upstairs, Austin watched the front doors with Liz by his side. He’d seen the number of people outside increase steadily to the point where they blocked out all the door windows. Exactly how many people were out there, he had no way to know. But there were enough.

  “Are we going to be okay?” Elizabeth asked him.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said.

  “I don’t want Auntie Mia to get hurt.”

  He looked down at her large blue eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Why do you help people?” she asked. “Your job is to save people, right? Maybe to die for them. Why?”

  He smiled. “It’s what I’m good at. And most of the time no one else will do it.”

  “We’re in a church,” she said. “Maybe God will do it?”

  He sniffed out a laugh. “Sorry kiddo. In my experience, if God exists, He doesn’t give a shit. People kill people. People save people. Simple as that.”

  “Simple as that,” she repeated. “What about him?”

  Austin followed her little pointed arm to a statue of Jesus surrounded by children. “If Jesus Christ walks through those doors with a cache of weapons I’ll greet him with open arms. Until then, he’s just a curse word.”

  Elizabeth frowned. She wanted to say more, but the others all returned at the same time.

  “There are four staircases leading up to the balcony,” Chang said. “One on each side of these doors. Two on the far side of the sanctuary. One of them isn’t far from the exit. There’s a few windows back there. I could see outside. A few of them are back there, but not as many as out front. And that dude hasn’t stopped puking yet. Freaking me out.”