by David Belau
That same feeling of dread was on me one particular night in town. The night was going well, but I could not shake the foreboding feeling. It was following me everywhere I went. After the second job of the night, I was headed to my last appointment, walking down a dark alley. Why was it always a dark alley? I came to the end, about to round the corner, when I stopped. The feeling of dread stopped me and fear seemed to grip my legs from moving. My mind started to panic at what could be around this corner. Why was I so afraid? A thought occurred to me and I turned around. Barely hidden by the shadows, I saw a serpentine form. Two yellow eyes narrowed when we made eye contact.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The demon cackled. “How does it feel?” it hissed.
“How does what feel?”
“I’ve been following you for a month now.” It moved out of the shadows to where I could see its form. Scales reflected in the moonlight and I saw rattles at the end of its tail. “Your end is coming, demon hunter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Sokhen. They are preparing the way.” It coiled up in front of me, its body as thick as my thigh. Its head was that of a cottonmouth, which now stood at eye-level.
“Preparing the way for what?”
It cackled again. “It hasn’t been revealed to you? Don’t you have spies to keep tabs on us?”
I was growing impatient, but didn’t dare move. With the size of this demon and the speed with which it could strike, I did not want to make it angry. “No, it’s just me.”
“Oh, that’s right.” It lightly shook its rattles in amusement. “You’re all alone. You’re a dying breed.”
“What’s your name?” I asked again.
“My name is Nachash, not that you’ll be needing that knowledge after tonight.” Its eyes narrowed.
“You’re the reason for the dread I’ve been feeling.”
His rattles shook again, “Yes, that’s right.”
“You’ve been using your wiles on me.”
Its eyes narrowed. “You’re finally getting the picture. Listen, I can’t have you getting in the way of what’s coming.”
“I wish you’d tell me. All this suspense is killing me.”
It shook its head. “Tell me, hunter, how does it feel?” Its rattles began to buzz violently. “Now that you’ve become the hunted?” Its mouth opened wide as it lunged forward; venomous fangs extended from the midst of the pinkish flesh of its mouth.
In one fluid motion, I spun to avoid its fangs and took hold of the hilt of my blade. The diamond shaped head passed right by my side as I raised my blade and slashed it down. I cut the head off the serpent and it tumbled through the air, coming to rest a few feet away. Its eyes focused on me in absolute hatred. The rest of the body squirmed in the throes of death, the rattles buzzing and scraping against the pavement. The life slowly drained from its eyes and the alley became quiet again. The feeling of dread left me as I slumped to the ground. I took a few slow breaths to calm my racing heart.
It took me a while to gather myself enough to stand. The realization that I was now being hunted, that I had a mark on me, was unsettling. I still did not know what the demons had planned, but it had to be big. Despite being alone for many years, this was the first time I actually felt alone.
The next week was the county fair. This was a big deal in my little town— one of the few bright spots. People would come from out of town to take in the sights and spectacles. The town took a lot of pride in it. The grounds were decorated with ribbons, the lawns were perfect, and all the landscaping was immaculate. The animals were all trimmed, brushed and ready for their audience. The food vendors worked quickly to serve up food for lines of hungry people. The carnival rides were brightly lit and blasted metal from the ‘80’s.
I liked fair week. It was typically very busy for me and a change of pace. The people in these traveling acts tended to be easily swayed. Perhaps knowing that they’d be in the next town in a few days removed a barrier in their conscience. For me, it felt like old times. I didn’t see any Sohken at all on the fairgrounds. Just the usual slime lurked around— easy pickens for my shotgun. In fact, it was almost like one of the carnival games, although splattering demons never won me a giant stuffed teddy bear.
I had been visiting the fair all week and tonight was the last night— it all culminated with a big concert. It was a country singer whose name I can’t remember. The stage was set up outside with two towers that held lights and speakers on either side of the stage. Some people came early to stake their claim on the grass. Others brought food and made a picnic of it. A local artist was plucking out a tune on his guitar and received some mild applause when he finished a song. More people made their way to the venue as the local guy finished up. When he was done, the local radio station piped through the sound system to keep the audience engaged. In a few more minutes, the main act would take the stage. The area in front of the stage was getting packed now— probably upwards of 300 people. That’s a lot for my town.
While I could sense the excitement in the crowd, I started to sense something else. At first, I felt some uneasiness in me, but I wasn’t sure why. The crowd was on its feet, cheering for the singer to come out. The drummer began and the beat swept through the crowd. Next, the bass player thumped out a groove that got people moving. It was a song they all recognized. The guitar player strummed the opening riff, then broke into an improvised solo. His fingers flew up and down the frets, hitting every note with precision. The crowd was hungry— they wanted the singer. That’s when I spotted the first Sohken. It was across the crowd, moving to the beat. My blood ran cold and I scanned the crowd for signs of more. There, in front, by the stage stood another, cheering for the singer. Two more, I spotted in the middle of the crowd, were also applauding. By my count, there were at least 15 in and around the crowd. This was the largest concentration I’d seen since they started showing up in town. What were they up to? I knew that I couldn’t take them on but I also feared for what they might do.
The crowd erupted into applause when the singer ran onto stage. He was a wildman— running, jumping, yelling. Quite the showman he was. When he stopped long enough to reach his mic, he went straight into his first song. The crowd sung along and danced to the beat. After the first song, he introduced himself and the band. I continued to scan the crowd for signs of trouble. The Sohken didn’t seem to be making a move yet, if that was their intention. Looking back over the crowd, I tried to see if there was anyone of weak mind that the Sohken may be taking advantage of. There were a few possibilities, but it was difficult in a crowd this big. Facial expressions and behavior were hard to analyze among the throng.
Thirty minutes into the set, I heard a metallic twang that was not part of the song. A second twang sounded quickly after the first. Looking toward the stage, I saw the two towers that held lights and speakers start to sway. Someone had cut the guy wires that stabilized the structure! It appeared in slow motion to me as the two towers fell into the crowd. Bones crunched and were crushed under the weight. I could see at least ten people pinned under each fallen tower; screaming for help. The crowd was screaming and running every which way. A Sohken was near the base of each tower, accompanying a couple of young men.
A few moments later, I heard more screaming from the other side of the crowd. Somehow a fire had broken out and was driving the crowd back toward the stage. It was spreading quickly, but I could not see where it came from. I watched in horror as a girl, fully engulfed in flames, tried to drop and roll. She was subsequently trampled by the crowd. It was a stampede of humanity, driven by fear.
The source of the fire quickly became apparent when I looked back toward the stage. The two young men lit Molotov cocktails and hurled them into the crowd. The incendiary devices broke, splashing flammable liquid and flames on the stampede. More people’s clothes caught fire, but if they tried to roll and smother the flames, they were trampled.
The attackers fled after only a few minutes
, but they had done a staggering amount of damage. It took an agonizing 15 minutes for paramedics and firemen to arrive to start helping the wounded. The fires were put out while the paramedics did their work. Ten people lost their lives due to the blunt force of the towers falling. Three went to the hospital with serious internal injuries. Twenty-three were trampled to death in the subsequent melee. Multiple people were burned seriously, with two in critical condition.
I went back to my camp with a heavy heart. Why were the Sohken doing this? What was the end game? It was hard to get any sleep when I could still hear the screams of the dying in my ears.
Waking the next afternoon, something felt different. Haze covered the town like a suffocating blanket. It was hot and hard to breathe. Going about my business, my mind was still on the events of the night previous. The hides I’d been tanning were ready to be taken down. As I worked, I thought about what the goal of the enemy was. They’d manufactured fear in town and now I had to figure out how they were going to use it. As I considered this, I noticed something falling from the sky. It was visible only in the rays of the sun, but it was not rain. It was ash falling from the sky— an ominous sign that something or someone was coming.
That night was just as hot as the day. The ash continued to fall and the air was acrid. I dropped by the corner market to check out the newspaper. The death toll from the previous night was up to 32; some were still critical. The burn victims had it the worst. Their wounds were terribly painful and at risk of infection at all times. There was all manner of hand-wringing over what the town should do. It appeared that it was the work of some unemployed youth. Only one had been captured thus far. Toward the end of the article, a quote caught my eye. It was from a politician: “We need to get tough on this stuff and take our town back. We need a change.” His name was Damien Jones. I’d never heard of him. Flipping through the rest of the paper, I found an ad for Mr. Jones. He was running for mayor and, coincidentally, was having a campaign rally this very night. I decided to check it out.
The venue was the old grange hall. The air was tense inside. Last night, the town seemed fearful, but tonight the fear had turned to anger. Many passionate discussions were happening in the crowd regarding the previous night’s events. The hall was surprisingly free of demons. There were a couple small ones that rode in on shoulders, but not many. Also missing were any sign of the Sohken.
The beginning of Mr. Jones’ speech was fairly mundane— typical politician speak. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance. He was well dressed and handsome, but generically so. I still didn’t recognize him. As he spoke, the air in the room seemed to change. By the middle of the speech, people in the room were visibly amped up. His voice grew louder and the words rolled out of his mouth like a river, as if he were rapping. The crowd was getting more and more excited. By the end of the speech, he could have said anything and the crowd would have broken into wild cheers. I was amazed at the energy that this man had tapped into, it was otherworldly.
I’m not sure when it happened, it was toward the end of the speech, but I noticed a figure in the shadows behind Mr. Jones. My sense told me it was something evil. While the rest of the room was exploding with energy, my world felt like it was collapsing. The shadow behind Damien felt like a hole in time that was absorbing life from me. This was an evil that I had never sensed before— more depraved than even the Sohken. I struggled to breathe. It felt like a force was trying to pull my heart out of my chest. This figure was giving Damien his power, it was stirring up people’s spirits through him.
My body was suddenly very weak and I had to get out. Stumbling out the entrance, I staggered to my car. Before I could reach the door, a deep, gravelly voice called out to me.
“Tsayad!”
Getting to the door, I turned and leaned against it, my heart still pounding. The dark figure was standing in the entrance to the hall. I still could not see more than just an outline of it. Its size was enough to fill the double doorway.
“Tsayad!” it called again.
“Who are you?” I asked.
There was a deep guttural laugh. “Always so preoccupied with names. Your time is up, hunter. We are taking this town as our own. You have no stake here anymore.” Another laugh.
“That’s not what I’ve heard. I’ve still got many clients here using my services.”
Suddenly, my head was filled with screaming. It wasn’t audible, but internal. My chest produced sharp pain and I fell back against the car. This being was somehow able to get inside me.
Another laugh. “Don’t be silly. A few clients will not overcome us, we are many. You should go before you get hurt. Leave the town to us.”
I could feel anger deep inside me, but I also knew that I had never encountered a being as powerful. There was no way I could challenge this being and survive. My body was weakening by the second and I struggled to open the car door to get in. The being laughed and was gloating at my retreat.
After starting the car, the being called out to me again: “You wanted to know my name.”
I turned my head toward the outline of darkness.
“My name is Aluf and this is my new town.”
I hit the gas and fled as quickly as I could. My heart was pounding and my body weak. A look in the rearview mirror showed a pale, sweaty man that looked near to death. Never had I experienced a demon as powerful as this one. Terror seeped into my soul and despair wrapped me like a blanket. I had to get away.
Driving through the night, I pulled into the city on the coast the following morning. The exhaust noise from the old Dodge ricocheted off the tall buildings downtown. It announced my arrival sounding more cocksure than I was feeling. The time spent driving had calmed my nerves some, but I still felt very weak.
This being my old training ground, my spirits lifted as I reminisced about my earlier days. The corner building on Third Street was where I first fought a room full of demons. Seemed like everyone in that room had some sort of hanger-on. My blade took care of them all. Down farther on Fifth Street was a building where I first perfected the severed head flip. Just the right flick of the wrist, I found, could get the head to flip once liberated from the neck. The demon had it coming— insulting my mom in the most putrid way. It made a fine pair of boots. Real pretty hide on that one. Then there was the strip club. One night an out of town pastor pulled a chain of demons in there. My 12 gauge did me proud that night. Every shot hit its mark— even the ones that took flight. Glorious carnage that night.
The place where I used to stay was the basement of a rundown house a few blocks off downtown. I pulled up to the curb behind a couple of Harleys and shut the engine down. I walked to the side door and gave it a couple raps with my hand. The door opened.
“Tsayad!” It was Sederah, my old friend. His face was hard, like steel forged into shape from years of hunting, but his eyes flashed joy at the sight of me.
“Sederah, my friend.” He heartily shook my hand and welcomed me in.
Once he had offered me a drink and we sat on a couch, he said: “You look terrible. You look half dead.”
“Good to see you too.”
“No, I’m serious. You okay?” he really did look concerned.
“It’s been rough,” I replied.
“What brings you back to the city? It’s been, what, 15 years?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
“Is anyone covering your town?”
“No.” I paused for a moment to think about what I was going to say next. “Something is going on. Uh, I needed to get out for a while.”
“So, nobody is covering the town?”
“No, nobody is there.” Sederah looked concerned and I could tell that he saw something big was wrong. “I guess, let me start from the beginning.” I put my feet up and looked at the ceiling, collecting my thoughts. “I’ve been noticing a general decline in people requesting my services over the last few years. Which is to be expected because there are less people living there.”
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br /> “Sure,” Sederah nodded.
“The last few months, though, the demons seemed to know something was up. They started getting real cocky. They kept sayin’ I didn’t have any authority to snuff them out. But, of course, I did.”
“Heh, they always grovel. Bastards.”
“Yeah. Well, one of them tells me that there are Sokhen in town.”
Sederah’s eyes grew wide, “What?! Your little town? What do they want there?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea. I didn’t want to believe it, but I started seeing things.”
“The symbols?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’d find dismembered animals and somewhere nearby would be their symbol. Then suicides. Some terrible things were happening. Then I started seeing them around town. The actual Sokhen.”
“But they’re just agents of a higher demon. Is that why you’re here? What’s happening?”
I stood up and paced around the room. “Sederah. I’m in over my head. I’ve never seen evil like this. Years ago, I helped you rid the city of Sokhen. And those guys are flat gnarly. But this…” I shook my head. “This is something else entirely.”
Sederah leaned forward on the couch. “Can you describe it?”
“It could get into my head. It was like a hundred voices screaming in my mind. It felt like it was trying to kill me without even touching me.”
“Wow.” Sederah leaned back on the couch and looked off in the distance. “I’ve heard stories of demons like that.”
“Sederah, I can’t go up against this on my own.”
“You can’t! Unless enough people make the call, you can’t.”
“We can’t make people put in calls. How do I get them to make those calls?”
He let out a slow breath. “People call you when things are bad. They call you when they can’t sleep at night. They call you when their kids are on drugs. If they are not calling you, things are not bad.”
