Demon Gate: Beyond the 9th Circle: The Rapture Was Just The Beginning.

by Heath, Joel

  Whoever did this might still be close. As if a mirror to his thoughts, there was a sound from within the hotel; a piece of furniture scraped against the floor - a large piece of furniture.

  The sound came from a room down the hall so Spencer eased down the hall with great caution. He had to find out if it was a person or a killer-creature, he desperately needed to find a safe place to sleep and hoped that since it was furniture, a person had slid it around to block a door.

  He tried not to freak out; he couldn’t afford to. In the hall, there were three doors along the right wall and four on the left.

  “Who’s here?” Spencer asked.

  Spencer heard a response; it was muffled, but distinct. Then it came again.

  “Wait! I need help.” It was a female voice. She had a thick accent, but Spencer could only guess as to its origin from the few words, maybe Irish. He approached one of the doors, turned the knob and pushed. The door opened four inches before it hit something.

  “What’s that?” Spencer asked, under his breath. “Never mind.” He stepped back, slipped the Glock into the cuff of his pants and kicked hard at the door, forcing it open. In the middle of the room was a queen sized bed. The rest of the room was lying in ruin. Hiding behind the bed was a girl with shoulder length red hair. She could have been no more than seventeen years old. She had a tomboy look to her body and clothing and this made her rather attractive. Mentally, he kicked himself. What was he thinking? They could be dead before the sun came up; there wasn’t time to speculate on a relationship, even if she turned out to actually like him back.

  The girl came out from behind the bed, approaching Spencer cautiously. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  He looked around the room, ignoring her question. “I’m a little more concerned with the bodies in the lobby?”

  “Bodies?” the girl gasped. “How many?”

  She started to push past Spencer, but Spencer stopped her.

  “It’s real ugly. You shouldn’t go out there.”

  The girl ignored Spencer and continued out to the lobby. Spencer followed her. He knew she would need some support.

  As the four bodies in the lobby came into view the girl let out a shrill scream. “DADDY!”

  Tears streamed down her face as she tried to run to the dismembered body of her father but Spencer caught her and pulled her back. “I’m sorry, he’s gone.” Spencer soothed, trying to be sympathetic. He knew his words to be inadequate so he rubbed her arm in support as she turned back and clutched at his shirt. Not knowing what else to do, he put his arms around her,

  murmuring useless phrases. However, there was a problem that was going to force this scene to an end. Spencer still had no idea what was

  happening, nor did he know what to do next and he was tired and had to find a place to sleep soon. He didn’t care to have a teenager tagging along; there was a good chance she would get them both killed. But he cared enough to not leave her in a motel with her dismembered father.

  “Come on, we shouldn’t stay here, there’s another motel across the street.”

  The girl looked like she was about to protest leaving until Spencer walked out the door.

  Spencer peered out the window of the motel room at his car across the street. “Are you going to be okay?

  The girl nodded. She had calmed down enough to talk.

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “Gretchen Jones,” the cute girl replied. She seemed stable now, but Spencer thought she was just putting on a good show—her whole body was tense one second and shaking the next.

  “Spencer Garza.” Spencer had to know how long the strange winged creatures had been gone. “How long were you barricaded in that room before I showed up?”

  Gretchen folded her arms in front of her and shivered. “I don’t know, an hour.”

  “What happened?” Spencer asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “My dad was stationed at Fort Bragg. We were at home when the call came in. The army had been positioned to launch a counterattack here, the hotel was the forward command center. He took me because he thought I would be safer at the hotel than at home. We were surrounded and overrun. He told me to go lock myself in a room and, no matter what I heard, not to come out,” Gretchen explained, tears streaming down her face. “What are we going to do?” Gretchen asked.

  “We?” He looked at her hard. “I was going to Miami. From there I was going to take a ship to Mexico.”

  Gretchen started to rub her hands on her upper arms. She whimpered, her eyes pleaded with Spencer to not leave her alone. “Everybody I ever knew was here, and now they’re all dead.” She sobbed, “There’s nothing for me here now.”

  “No, I ... I just don’t know what is going on and I can’t protect you, you need to look for more soldiers. Tell them what happened. I’m going to fend for myself.”

  Gretchen wiped the tears from her eyes. “You think a Glock 22 will save you?”

  Spencer’s mouth dropped open. He glanced down to notice the handle of his gun was exposed, so he covered it with his shirt.

  “You know something about guns?”

  “Not guns that small. My father taught me to field strip an M-16 when I was eight.” Gretchen snidely remarked, her eyes still red from crying.

  Gretchen’s obvious knowledge softened Spencer, and he relented. “Fine, we leave at first light. Unless those things come back. Before we go we’ll have to find some supplies.”

  Spencer and Gretchen settled in for a rough night. The sun quickly vanished behind the horizon. Gretchen fell asleep while Spencer opted to take the first watch. He knew sleep wouldn’t come easy.

  When the sun’s early rays broke through the shutters, Spencer woke. He was seated in a chair by the window. He looked at the girl sleeping in the bed. He knew they had to get a move on, find a place to get food and water. He hated the idea of waking her; she seemed so peaceful, so beautiful with that red hair catching the light of the sun. He reluctantly climbed out of the chair and took a seat on the bed next to her. He brushed the hair from her face and spoke softly. “Gretchen, it’s time to get moving.”

  Gretchen stirred and opened her eyes, as she did she smiled up at Spencer. Her smile faded when reality sank in. Gretchen sat up and placed her dainty feet on the floor before standing.

  Spencer opened the door and Gretchen followed him out into the quiet morning. He climbed into the driver’s seat and looked at his gas gauge; it had not become a cause for concern, but it was stupid not to fill his gas tank here, while he had a chance. Fortunately there was a gas station that looked like it was still running across the street from a grocery store several blocks away. Spencer pulled up to the gas pump and began pumping.

  With a full tank they drove across the street to get what could be found.

  “You should probably wait out here,” Spencer suggested. “I won’t be long.”

  “What should I do if those things come back?”

  “I don’t plan to be gone that long,” Spencer replied before getting out of the modified GTO and heading to the front door. The parking lot had a dozen vehicles and a flock of shopping carts strewn across the lot close to the store entrance. Spencer approached the door, but before entering he took a couple deep breaths to brace for the grizzly sight of dozens of panicked patrons in their final moments. But upon entering, all that was there were a couple dismembered cashiers and lots of blood. With his revulsion slightly tempered, he pushed past the dead bodies, went further into the store, and grabbed an empty shopping cart that was just past the cash registers.

  Outside, Gretchen sat quietly in the car. She had been waiting for twenty minutes when a faint but ferocious roar in the distance made her blood run cold. “Oh no,” Gretchen cried and terror wafted to the surface. “They’re coming back.”

  A thud shot past Gretchen’s ears and she turned her head toward the windshield. A winged creature shrieked at her through the windshield and Gretchen returned the shriek as a terrifie
d scream. Then five loud, short sounds ripped though the air. Gretchen whipped her head around to see Spencer standing behind a shopping cart, gun in hand. He had it pointed at the winged creature, which with a terrible roar, turned his fury on the one that wounded him.

  The creature jumped down off the car hood and, when standing erect was about three feet tall and looked just like a spooky gargoyle from the old European churches. Then it charged at Spencer who fired his weapon six more times. This caused the creature to flee, wounded but not fatally. Spencer quickly loaded the new supplies into the trunk and slapped a new magazine in the Glock. Another hearty roar in the distance told Spencer that it was time to go.

  “Where are we going?” Gretchen asked as Spencer climbed into the car.

  “It sounds like they’re approaching from the north; we might still make it to Miami,” Spencer said as he plunged his key into the ignition. The engine roared to life. Spencer slammed his foot onto the gas pedal and the car sped away. He quickly covered the short distance to the I-95 onramp then took a heading south.

  Gretchen looked back to make sure the creature wasn’t following, “Do you think you killed it?” Gretchen asked.

  Spencer didn’t even look at Gretchen; instead he stared out at the road. “I doubt it,” Spencer replied before changing the subject. “We can stay on I-95 most of the way.”

  Six hours later Spencer and Gretchen crossed the Florida border. It gave only a small sense of relief—they really had no idea if Miami would be any safer.

  Spencer passed a sign indicating the exit to Orlando when he noticed an object moving towards them; a pickup truck. The occupants noticed the old GTO because they were flashing their headlights. They must have felt the need to stop to share information; maybe it was a warning. The truck angled over the median of the highway and the cars pulled along side each other. Spencer stopped and rolled down his window.

  “Where ya headed?” the driver asked.

  “Miami?” Spencer replied making the question obvious in his tone.

  Something was wrong; the driver turned away and talked to his passenger before turning back to Spencer.

  “You don’t want to be headin’ that way.” The driver warned. “Back that way’s demon country.”

  “Demon country?” Spencer asked.

  “That’s what they look like, must be what they is.”

  “Where are you headed? We’ll go with you,” Spencer offered.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I faced one, and lived to tell about it.”

  “What? You got one?” the passenger asked.

  “I wounded one,” Spencer corrected, “back in North Carolina. Besides, our odds might be better together.”

  “What the hell, flip around. We’re going out west. I hear there’s a safe place in Arizona,” the driver said.

  “It might be safe to assume that most if not all major cities have been…overrun by these demons,” Spencer guessed. “We should avoid them.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” the driver agreed. Spencer flipped his GTO around and the two vehicles began their trek west stopping near the town of Crestview Florida to lay out their route, top off supplies and put up some extra gas for the pickup truck.

  “You know,” the truck driver began “I’m surprised we ain’t run into any more of those demons lately. We’ve been on a main highway; they should be all over the place.”

  “Maybe they’re gone?” the passenger suggested.

  “Lester, you idiot. They ain’t gonna just come kill a bunch of us then leave,” the driver chided.

  “No, I mean what if they’s doin something else?” Lester corrected.

  “Sort of a ‘bigger fish to fry’?” Gretchen clarified.

  “Exactly.”

  “Another question,” the driver said, changing direction of the conversation. “What did you use to wound that demon in North Carolina?”

  Spencer pulled the Glock from the back cuff of his pants and showed the weapon to the driver.

  “Son, if you’re going to keep the demons at bay then you’ll need more than that.” The driver went to his truck, reached into the bed, and pulled out an M16 assault rifle.

  “We got these when we was in Miami. SWAT didn’t need them anymore so we took ‘em.” The driver explained as he handed the weapon to Spencer then retrieved an ammo can and handed that to him as well before giving him a quick weapons tutorial.

  The driver looked at the sun.

  “We should get going. It’s gonna be dark in a few hours and I want to put as much road behind us as possible before then.” The driver headed back to his truck with Lester and they climbed in.

  Spencer and Gretchen got into their car and the two vehicles continued speeding down I10, eventually crossing the Alabama border shortly after nightfall, then turning off I-10 onto country road 64. Settling down on the side of a river, the driver of the truck finally had time to introduce himself.

  “Sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Louis and this here’s Lester. We come from all over, but we was in Miami when Hell attacked. When those demons come out of that thing, we got us some food, water and guns and got the hell out of dodge.”

  “I’m Spencer and this is Gretchen. I met her in North Carolina. I came from Jersey.”

  “Ha!” Louis chuckled. “I never thought a city boy would have survived something like this. You’s damn lucky.”

  “How long until we get to the safe area?” Gretchen asked.

  “Well, we gonna drive through Missippi, Louisiana, Texas, and New Mexico before we get to Arizona. Hell is going to throw everything they got at us. It ain’t going to be easy.”

  “You know this is kinda ironic,” Lester said, enunciating the last word slowly.

  “Why’s that?” Spencer asked.

  Lester pointed at the small river behind Spencer. “That there’s the river Styx.”

  “You’re kidding?” Spencer said with a laugh.

  “No I ain’t,” Lester assured with a stern, dead serious expression.

  Spencer stepped away from the campfire. “We’d better turn in. We’ll need to get going at first light to stay ahead of the armies of Hell,” Spencer advised.

  “I reckon you’re right. Lester, you take first watch.” Louis agreed and promptly plopped down and shut his eyes.

  “Sure thing.” Lester agreed before returning to the truck to grab his rifle and taking post in a camp chair that was setup in the bed of the truck.

  Spencer sank down cross-legged in front of the fire and soon slid to the side and fell into a dreamless sleep filled with strange sounds that could be anything, an indigenous animal, or something more sinister. Spencer couldn’t sleep very well; he had the same problem the night before. When he did sleep it wasn’t for longer than half an hour or so, and every time he closed his eyes he saw an image of a city nestled against a snowcapped mountain range. Thick, dreary clouds hovered over the city, and suddenly the clouds opened up and a brilliant beam of blue light came out of the sky and struck the ground. Every structure shattered as though it were made of the most fragile glass.

  The sun was a welcome sight, mainly because the rag tag group was still alive, or at least Louis and Lester were okay. Spencer couldn’t find Gretchen.

  “Where’s Gretchen?” Spencer asked.

  “She went to the river a half hour ago, probably went to clean up.” Louis replied, pointing toward the Styx River.

  “I’ll go check on her. We should think about heading out soon, I’d like to reach Texas by nightfall.” Spencer said before heading for the river.

  “Sure thing, we’ll be ready to head out when you two get back.” Louis assured him.

  Spencer headed to check on Gretchen. As he entered the trees he could hear a river, a small river, or maybe it was a large stream, but he could certainly hear running water. As he drew near to the water’s edge he heard the water being disturbed, as though someone or something was swimming in it. Looking at the bank he found some clothin
g lying on nearby branches. Investigating, Spencer found the shirt and pants that Gretchen had been wearing.

  “What are you doing?” Gretchen asked, embarrassed.

  Spencer's first impulse was to look away, but he ignored it. His eyes went to the girl in the river. Gretchen was in the river with water up to her neckline and doing her best to cover up. Her bare skin glistened in the faint sunlight.

  “What are you doing here?” Gretchen repeated as she used her arms to cover herself. She was trying to bathe and the river offered her only choice.

  “I’m sorry; I just came to let you know that we’re almost ready to leave. You were gone long enough that we were starting to get worried.”

  “Well go so I can get out, this isn’t a peep show.” Gretchen chided.

  “Hurry, we have a long way to go.” Spencer said before he walked back to camp to find everything packed up and ready to go. Their new travel companions had just impressed him with their speed and efficiency.

  After five minutes Gretchen came walking out of the trees. Her wet hair and the embarrassed look on Spencer’s Guatemalan face told Louis and Lester all they needed.

  “Catch her in the river?” Lester asked with a laugh and a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

  “In the car, let’s go.” Spencer said, shaking off the embarrassment. Spencer got in to his GTO and started the engine. To his surprise Gretchen got in too.

  “You’re not riding with the redneck brothers?” Spencer asked and Gretchen

  understood what Spencer was talking about.

  “It was an accident. You didn’t know I was…” Gretchen paused trying to word her question carefully, “in the river…Did you?”

  Spencer ignored the question and put his car in gear. Then he looked into the rearview mirror at Louis and Lester.