Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
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More Books in the Demontouched World
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Echoes of Tomorrow
Season One
Episode Eight
Douglas Wayne
ECHOES OF TOMORROW
SEASON ONE
EPISODE EIGHT
Douglas Wayne
Copyright © 2015 by Douglas Wayne. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Chapter One
Unknown, Mississippi
September 17, 2013
Ralph fell to the floor in a heap, his rifle flew from his hands, harmlessly clattering away three pews away. He held the new hole in his abdomen, the hot red blood coursing through his fingers as he pressed his hand to the wound.
Everyone dropped to the ground, using the wooden pews for cover in case more gunfire rang out. Judy cried out in terror as she held her hands over her head.
Nearby, Al crawled to his wife at a snails pace, his wounded arm unable to support his weight for more than a second or two before pain shot through his arm again. He felt the wound on his back oozing as the warm blood seeped into his bandage anew. Grunting through the pain, he made it to his wife and dropped to the ground, letting the pain overtake him.
Davis rolled over the pew behind him, landing on a knee with his gun aimed in the general direction of the new guy. He pulled the trigger as soon as he was behind cover though he hadn’t taken the time to aim, so his shot missed by a fair margin.
The newcomer laughed at Davis’ sad attempt at taking him down though he admired his spirit. Most people cower or run after seeing one of their own go down so soon into a fight, but the presence of weapons seemingly had strengthened this group in a way. He trained his weapon on Davis, finger tensed on the trigger waiting for his target to make a move.
Tyler crawled along the aisle, careful not to make his profile high enough for the man to see. He wanted to get away from the others before joining in on the fight. The last thing they needed was for someone else to get shot, especially someone merely trying to survive.
In the center of the church, the preacher grew enough courage to get to his feet. He approached the man slowly, hands held in the air as he did. “Good sir, I ask that you put your weapon away. The lord doesn’t like it when blood is spilled in his house.”
The man laughed. “Something tells me your lord doesn’t give two shits about this place any more. In his eyes it’s nothing more than a few walls with a roof. Plenty of buildings like this across this pathetic planet, what makes yours so special?”
The priest lowered his right hand and grabbed the small silver cross from around his neck. He held it in front of him by the chain. “I am a man of God. He has tasked me with preparing the good and just for his arrival.”
“He told you that?” The man laughed hard, nearly doubling over as his voice echoed through the church. “I think you are full of shit. If he tasked you with preparing people for his arrival, surely he would’ve taken you a week ago.” He lowered the gun and took a few steps towards the preacher who had stopped moving in. “I think there’s another reason you are still here. You are one of the bad ones, left behind because you’ve done something he didn’t care for. Plenty of priests and preachers are still around, all spinning the same tale. But that isn’t your problem, is it? You’re here because you didn’t truly believe. Sure, you read his book, maybe memorized a few passages each week to tell to your congregation, but your words were hollow.”
The preacher stuttered, unable to say anything remotely coherent.
The man turned his attention from the preacher to the rest of the group. “As for the rest of you. I can smell the sin residing in each of your souls. Hiding in a church won’t save you any more than the pathetic wooden benches you hide behind now. The rules of old no longer apply. Your sacred grounds are no longer the sanctuary they once were.”
The preacher’s back straightened at the words. He didn’t like hearing this man threaten the people inside. He might have only just met them, but they came here for safety and solace, two things he was supposed to provide in spades. Indignant at the thought of this man’s blatant disrespect, he bravely stepped close.
“In the Lord’s name, I command you to leave this church at once.” He held his hand forward, is if some magical energy was going to leap from his fingers into the man.
The man shook his head. “You have the right idea, but the wrong being. Let me show you how it’s done.” The man leaned the bat against a nearby pew then jerked it towards the preacher. “In Lucifer’s name, I command you to die.”
The preacher’s body lifted in the air above the pews, arms stretching awkwardly to his side. His arms felt like they were being ripped off at the shoulder, his tendons popping as the bone worked its way out of the socket.
Then his body flew to the front of the church, slamming hard into the wooden cross behind the pulpit.
Al’s group broke into a collective scream as the preacher’s skin ripped, exposing the bone and muscle underneath. All except Tyler, who’d seen stuff like this before. The new guy wasn’t quite the same as Mrs. Fire and Mrs. Ice, but the power was close enough for him to know the truth. This was a demon, here to murder, maim, and kill. That or possibly to recruit into his ranks as to have an army of his own to command.
“Now, I suspect the rest of you do not wish to take the preacher’s place.” The man scanned the room, studying the eyes of every person he passed. Evaluating them to see how likely they would be to resist. None of the souls his gaze met seemed willing to put up a fight until his eyes met Tyler’s.
“You,” he pointed at Tyler. “Why do you not fear me like the others?”
Tyler pursed his lips. He didn’t want to reveal that he’d seen someone like him before, more for the sake of the others than for himself. Tyler believed that if he told the group there were other demons like this one, they might not be willing to fight back. While he knew the odds they’d be able to kill this demon were slim, it was much better if they believed it was possible.
Tyler felt his throat constrict as an invisible hand wrapped its fingers around his neck. After a moment his lungs screamed for air, his head pounded with the lack oxygen. In a few short moments he’d be dead, taking that pointless secret to the grave with him.
“He’s not afraid because we’ve seen others like you,” Marcy said, voice hoarse and raspy.
Tyler felt the vice-like grip release from his neck. His lungs burned with pain as he took sharp, rapid breaths to fill th
em back to capacity. Across the room he looked at Marcy, across the room. Her face was just as pale as it was before he’d helped load her into the van, and her breathing just as labored. He was amazed to see that even moments after waking up, she had the strength to stand up to the demon.
“I doubt you’ve met my brothers and sisters and lived to tell the tale. Surely you are lying to save your friend’s pathetic life.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Tyler said between breaths. “We were at a hospital. Two people with powers like yours lead a group of people against a squad of soldiers tasked with protecting the hospital.”
“Yet I know that cannot be true, because you stand here before me today. Tell me why they spared your life, or I can guarantee it won’t happen again.”
“A man came shortly after they did, wearing a pure white suit. He carried a sword that was able to kill both of them, and most of the others, without much trouble.”
“Remiel,” the man said, irritation in his voice. “How he was powerful enough to kill two of my kind, I cannot explain, but I can promise he won’t pull off the feat again.”
Tyler felt the demon was a bit cocky. Remiel, if that was his name, handled the threat at the hospital without much issue. If he hadn’t been outnumbered as bad as he was, he wouldn’t have needed what little help Tyler and Marcy provided. Without a reliable way to take the demon down, Tyler wished Remiel was here at the church to give them a hand.
The demon looked across the room, mouth twisting in delight as his gaze fell on the preacher. “I doubt you have an idea where he went off to, but it won’t matter. This should get his attention.” He reached to the wall and gripped three loose nails with his power. Twisting them around in the air, he aimed the pointy end at the priest. With a smile he said, “forgive me Father.” His hand jerked in front of him, sending the nails at the preacher’s helpless form. One pierced the top of his foot, nailing it to the cross. The other two pierced his wrists. The preacher passed out from the immense pain, hid head tilting forward to resemble the pulpit’s wooden engraving.
Chapter Two
Ralph twisted his head to avoid watching the nails strike the preacher. Something inside of him hung up, sending a shot of hot pain through his right side. He screamed out, his eyes watering from the level of agony he’d never felt before.
Nearby, Al sauntered over, taking care not to jar his arm any more than it already had. As it was, he was in desperate need of a new bandage, but that would have to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his last moments getting pampered while the demon killed the group one by one.
Al knelt by Ralph’s side. He lifted the man’s shirt to get a better idea what they were working with. The wound oozed dark purple, his intestines begging to be let into the open air. It had been a long time since he’d seen a wound as bad. Gut shots are nasty business in the best of times, but without a doctor to stem internal bleeding it is as good as a death sentence. Unfortunately for Ralph, it was akin to being on death row in California. His remaining time would be spent in pure agony as he bled out slowly over the next few hours.
“How you holding up?” Al asked, offering his hand.
“Oh, you know. Hanging in there.” Ralph grimaced as another stab of pain shot through him.
Al lifted his shirt, revealing a large butcher knife carefully placed in his pants. He’d had it wrapped in the remains of an old leather wallet, figuring it might have some use. It wouldn’t be as good as the knife he used back in the Army, but it would be good enough to kill a thing or two.
“I can help,” Al said, eyes meeting Ralph’s. He wasn’t sure if his neighbor would want it to happen, but he had to offer. Back in Vietnam he’d seen too many die the same way. And if he could help it, he wouldn’t let it happen again.
Ralph’s eyes teared up and he nodded. He took in a deep breath and exposed his neck.
The demon stepped up, towering over the pews as he watched the scene unfold. “I can’t let you do that.” He pulled the metal blade free of its makeshift sheath into his hands. “You will all die when I tell you to. Not a moment before.”
Al’s heart sank. Why he didn’t expect the demon to interfere, he wasn’t sure, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to let Ralph suffer if he could avoid it
“The man’s dying.” Al bolted up to stand up to the demon, his head raised up to meet the demon’s eyes above. “Let me end it.”
The demon hopped over the pew, landing on the ground between Al and Ralph. He held the blade of the butcher knife in front of him with his power, twisting it in the air. “Perhaps you would like to share his fate.” The knife stopped abruptly, blade angled down at Al’s abdomen. Laughing, the demon lifted the older man’s shirt to expose the flesh underneath.
Al’s lip trembled at the thought. His time in the military had prepared him to be ready to die. In his life after, he carried the same thoughts to remind him what was at stake. He didn’t use it as a way to hold himself back, but instead to remind him of the worst that could happen. But as he stood there, knife drawing closer to his exposed skin, he felt a fear he hadn’t felt before. Not even Charlie had been able to frighten him like this. He’d fought and killed other men, feral cats, and man-eating snakes without batting an eye. Any of the threats he faced in the jungle could’ve killed him with one lucky strike. Yet those things weren’t vindictive. They wanted to kill him so they could live. They wouldn’t have let him suffer longer than it took for them to do the deed.
“Tell you what.” The demon pulled the blade back to his hand then looked down at Ralph. “Come with me outside and I will end your suffering.”
Ralph quivered. “I’ll…”
“Don’t make me do this the hard way.” The demon offered his free hand, which Ralph took reluctantly. The demon led Ralph to the front of the church and out the large double doors.
The people held their breath as they watched the demon walking out. Nobody seemed to know what to think or to say. Most cried softly, not wanting to get the demon’s attention next.
Out of everyone, Al was taking it the worst. Had he just pulled the blade and slit Ralph’s throat his friend wouldn’t be suffering. But he knew the truth. If he’d killed Ralph, it would be him outside, getting whatever treatment he was getting.
From the front of the church Ralph let out a horrific scream that seemed to echo forever inside the church. Al’s legs gave out and he dropped into the pew. He brought his hands up to cover his face and cried loud enough to muffle Ralph’s screams.
Tyler made his way across the church, avoiding small groups of people as he made his way over to Al. The old man was an emotional mess, but nobody seemed willing to get close.
“We have to do something,” Davis said from the back of the church. “He’s hurting him.”
“There isn’t anything we can do,” Tyler said. “He’s too powerful.”
“There has to be something we can do. Ambush him or something.”
Al blew his nose into his shirt. “Tyler is right. We can’t do anything to him.”
“So we just sit here to die?” Davis kicked the nearby door. “Fuck that, I’m not going to go out like that.”
“What do you think we can do?” Tyler asked. “We can’t shoot him or get close. When Marcy and I ran against the two at the hospital we weren’t able to do anything other than distract them.”
The preacher groaned from the front of the church. Blood oozed down his wrists, onto the cross where it dripped onto the ground below. “Holy water,” he coughed, droplets of blood flew from his mouth.
“What’s that?” Tyler asked.
“Holy water can kill them. Bullets and blade can hurt them, but it takes a lot to kill one. Unless you have an angel sword or a blade created specifically for killing them, your only hope is holy water.”
Tyler smiled. “Where do you keep it?”
“That’s the bad news.” The preacher went into another coughing fit. “Never kept the stuff around. It’s more of a catholic
tradition.” He blinked his eyes rapidly as he spoke, struggling to stay awake or very likely alive.
“Can you make it?” Tyler asked, sparing a glance at the front door before he approached the cross.
The priest nodded. “The water needs to be pure, meaning free of contaminants. Normally, I’d suggest pulling water from the tap, but it hasn’t worked for three days now. Unless you brought some with you, we are all out of luck.”
Tyler smirked. “We have cases of the stuff out in the truck. Just need a way to get out there to it.”
Another bout of screams echoed through the church, reminding Tyler just how difficult getting outside would be. Getting back to the truck was a matter of finding a way outside and making the trip around on the outside, all while hoping the demon didn’t catch you first. On paper it was simple, but its application was another matter entirely.
“How?” Davis asked, approaching from the side door. “Even if you go out the side door, how do you expect to get to your truck and back inside without him noticing.”
Tyler agreed with Davis; the plan had its flaws. While he wished he had more time to hash out the finer details, they didn’t have the time. Ralph’s already mangled body wouldn’t last for ever. While he was holding up much better than Tyler expected, if he were to die before one of them was through the side doors, they’d be stuck without another option. It was clear the demon was willing to torture and kill them one at a time, hoping one of their deaths would be enough to summon Remiel here.
Tyler wasn’t sure why Remiel showed up at the hospital, but had a feeling it was to save hundreds or thousands of people, not the small handful alive in this church. Even if he was willing to intervene, there was the small matter of him finding the group in the church at this very moment. Of course, the demon would spread out their suffering over days, or perhaps even weeks, buying Remiel even more time to get here. The prospect of holding out for a salvation that may never come didn’t thrill him in the slightest.
Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Eight (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 8) Page 1
