Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Eight (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 8)

by Douglas Wayne

  Nelson stood up from the back of the room, legs and arms shaking with the tremors of old age. “We aren’t afraid of you, beast.”

  The demon laughed. “Perhaps it was your eyesight that failed you first. The old men are the only ones with enough guts, the rest of your people are nothing more than walking corpses. They just don’t know it yet.”

  “Walking corpse this you son of a bitch.” Davis brought the rifle to bear, barrel aimed at the center of the demon’s chest. He wasted no time pulling the trigger. The bright muzzle flash illuminated the room with an intense flash of light, the echo of the gun deafening in the open church.

  The group stood carefully, watching the spot where the demon had been standing moments ago with a renewed interest. Each person with the same roaring question rolling through their minds.

  Had the shot killed the demon.

  It was Al who moved in first. He desired, more than anyone else, to see the demon dead. He wanted to know that the precautions Tyler had struggled to make weren’t necessary. That these demons were no different than he was. That bullets could kill them the same.

  He stepped around the final pew to see the demon’s body on the ground in a crumpled heap. A single bullet wound open in his chest, inches away from his heart. Al was the first to cheer, raising his good arm in the air as he turned towards Davis. “Good shooting, kid.”

  The rest of the room cheered in delight, joining in together in a roast to their savior.

  “Davis. Davis.” One of the women had started in jest. The others caught on and joined in.

  Davis beamed at all the attention, happy that he’d had a chance to be the hero for once. He raised the rifle the air in celebration, and to acknowledge the support of the group.

  Then, rising to his feet, the demon stood on his feet. Blood oozed from the open wound in his chest, blossoming around his once white shirt. He joined in on the cheer, shouting “Davis, Davis,” like the others until the group caught on. One by one the people quieted. Their elation replaced with an overwhelming sense of dread at the realization that the bullet hadn’t worked.

  The demon continued the cheer for a few more rounds after the room had quieted, his voice an odd symphony with his echo. Eventually he stopped, his head scanning the room in wonder. “Why did you stop? I thought we were celebrating Davis, the hero.” He waited a moment for anyone in the crowd to answer. “Nothing? Oh well. I propose a new celebration. Instead of toasting Davis as a hero, let’s toast him as a martyr.”

  Davis was dead before his mind had a chance to register the demon raising the gun.

  * * *

  “What was that?” Tyler asked, wondering about the gun shot he’d heard moments ago. Unless he was mistaken, it had sounded like it had come from inside. The sound could only mean one thing, that something had gone desperately wrong on the inside.

  Not wanting to risk going inside empty handed, they stopped off at the truck. Each of the men loaded up with as much water as they could carry in their pockets, which amounted to four or five bottles a piece.

  Gun in hand, both men ran to the front of the church, neither wanting to waste a moment longer than they had to. When they reached the door nearly a minute later, Tyler set his back against the wall on the right side of the door while Matt took a spot on the left.

  “How do you want to do this?” Matt asked, gun poised in the air.

  Tyler thought about it for a moment. He’d intended on taking a moment to figure that out once they got to this point. What he hadn’t intended was the situation inside the church having gone sour so fast. The urgency of the situation, combined with the shock he still felt about seeing Ralph as nothing more than a walking zombie, made it difficult for him to think. He stared off in the distance, unable to come up with an idea that didn’t involve both of them kicking in the front door and going in with guns blazing.

  “Do you hear that?” Matt asked, breaking Tyler out of his daze.

  Tyler held his ear to the door, marveling at what he was hearing inside. “Are they cheering?”

  Matt smiled. “Sounds like it. Are they saying Davis?”

  “Looks like the kid did something good after all.” Tyler’s muscles relaxed and his mind followed shortly after. They’d escaped the church to get a few bottles of water to be blessed, knowing the trip would be risky. Yet now that they’d gotten what they came for, they’d learned it wasn’t necessary.

  “Let’s go in and see what this is all about.” Matt turned around and reached for the door. As he flung the wooden double doors open another shot rang out. The demon stood in the middle of the church, surrounded by the other members of the group. In the center of his chest was a blossom of blood that got larger with every heartbeat. In his hand was a gun, pointed towards the side doors they sneaked out of just a few short minutes ago. On the ground, the remains of Davis’ body slumped on the floor. The top third of his skull was missing, replaced by a large hole that exposed both his skull and brain. The rest of the parts were scattered behind him, part on the steps and more on the floor with the rest slowly sliding down the door, leaving trails of sludge behind.

  “Ahh,” the demon said, aiming the gun at Matt. “I thought we were missing someone.” He stepped around the pew, keeping the gun aimed in the same direction as he moved.

  Tyler watched his movements carefully, noting how seamless his movements were. It almost seemed the hole in his chest had done something to improve his grace, that or had reminded him his shell was far from the invulnerable husk his spirit was.

  “Hold it right there,” Matt said as he flicked the safety off the gun.

  “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” He motioned with his hand down his chest, swirling it around the wound for emphasis. “Your friend over there already tried that. Didn’t work so well.” He lowered his weapon and bent slightly at the waist. “Take your shot.”

  “Don’t do it, man,” Tyler urged. “It won’t do anything to him.”

  Matt’s lower jaw quivered, his eyes rapidly moving between Davis’ mangled body and that of the demon. “The fucker killed my friend.” He clenched the gun harder, knuckles turning ghost white with the strain.

  “Yes,” the demon smiled. “The fucker sure did.”

  Matt took a step closer, eyes watering in rage as he stared at the demon in front of him. Anyone with half a brain could tell he wanted to pull the trigger. Shit, if Tyler was sure the shot would take him out he’d pull out his gun and take a shot himself. But the blood on his shirt was a reminder of how invulnerable he was, which was a stark contrast to how fragile they were.

  “Matt, don’t,” Tyler said again, hoping Matt would listen.

  “I think you need to stay out of this.” The demon waved his arm, sending Tyler corkscrewing into the wall.

  Tyler slammed into it hard, knocking the wind out of him and the gun from his hand.

  No sooner than Tyler had gone airborne, Matt pulled the trigger. The bright muzzle flash of the gun illuminating the church for the third time in the last few minutes. Tyler’s ears rung as the pop echoed, sending him into a momentary bout of vertigo.

  Over the ringing he heard the sounds of the scuffle from somewhere in the room. As he struggled to get to his feet he noticed Matt being pinned to the wall by one of the demon’s arms. The other held the gun with its flat nosed barrel to the side of Matt’s head. Blood dripped down the demon’s face from the spot where the bullet had hit, ripping off most of his ear.

  “So close,” the demon spat. “Now it’s my turn.” He pressed the gun into the front of Matt’s skull, his pale skin turning red under the cold metal. He kept increasing the force until he was able to hold Matt in place with just the gun, letting his legs dangle helplessly mere feet from the ground.

  Tyler thought about making a run at the demon. Tackling him to the ground to give Matt a chance to escape. But he knew doing so would be foolish. He wasn’t strong enough to wrestle a demon, definitely not one capable of throwing him in the air with but a thought.r />
  No, if he wanted to end this he had to finished what they’d started when they slipped out of the room earlier. He had to get the water to the priest.

  Tyler crawled along the ground with as much speed as his sore arms would allow all while trying to keep his body below the backs of the pews. Groups of people huddled in small groups, mouths held shut though their sobs gave them away. Tyler imagined most the people here hadn’t so much as seen a dead body before, let alone watched someone die. Now, before their eyes, they were watching one of their friends be tortured and possibly killed. Seeing their faces sent an overwhelming sense of resolve through his body. He had to get to the preacher before more blood was spilled.

  As he got close to the priest he noticed the pool of blood on the floor below the wooden cross. The priest was slumped over, head dangling in the way only a dead body could. His back leaned forward, leaving the nails in his wrists and feet as the only things holding him in place.

  Tyler’s heart sank at the sight of the dead priest. He’d made the trip for nothing. As Matt’s neck let out a horrific crack that caused more than half the group to scream, he realized it was just a matter of time until they were all dead. For the first time in his life he envied the dead around the room. He wouldn’t have it nearly as easy as them.

  Chapter Five

  Marcy noticed the priest the same time as Tyler. In her chest the same sense of dread that had washed over the room had already taken effect. She hadn’t had much time to process the situation she’d woken up to, but knew enough to know it wasn’t good. Tyler slumped on the floor, head curled to the ground in his palms, not bothering to hide his fear.

  All around she noticed more of the same. Judy had left her side, opting instead to spend what she could of her final moments in her husband’s arms. A couple in their twenties did much of the same, adding only the occasional kiss to the mix. Brother hugged brother, neighbor comforted neighbor, and even one-time enemies had put the past behind them and held hands.

  The resignation of the situation sickened her. Sure, people had died to the demon, but they couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t let them. As long as they could draw breath, they had a reason to fight. All they needed was to see someone else was willing to fight even as things looked helpless. But to have a chance, she needed a gun. Near the front door, she noticed the shining muzzle of Tyler’s handgun shining in the middle of the center aisle.

  The demon held Matt’s lifeless body against the wall for a few minutes, delighting in the creative way he’d found to kill another man. His lips curled at the thought of the things he could, or rather would do to the group. If he couldn’t get Remiel to show, he’d at least have some fun.

  Finally tired of holding it up, he pulled the gun away allowing Matt to fall to the ground in a curled heap. His neck craned at an awkward angle that made the circled indention in his forehead seem almost natural.

  Marcy pushed the vision of the body from her mind to focus only on the gun. As she passed the scattered groups of people, they stopped their sobs to watch her pass. She saw the astonishment in their eyes at watching her move. She knew none of them could have the slightest idea what she was up to, but hoped they’d join in once they did otherwise her rebellion would be as short lived as Davis’ or Matt.

  She crawled between the final set of pews with her stomach on the ground, crawling like she’d see in the old war movie’s her father made her watch as a child. While she was moving into a worse situation than those soldiers, she was glad not to have anyone shooting at her yet. As brave as she was being, she was barely holding up. Every pump of her arm threatened to be her last as her body tried to shut her down, knowing full well what could happen to her for simply holding the gun.

  The demon still had his back to the group as she closed in on the gun. Two more pumps, she told herself. Two more pumps and you can take the bastard down. Send him back to hell where he and his brothers and sisters belonged.

  Two pumps later she was close enough to taste it. She reached out, fingers brushing against the cold steel to settle on the wooden handle. She gripped it in her hand and prepared to pull it back when a bloody boot stomped down, snapping her fingers like they were nothing more than twigs.

  “Now, now. Is that how pretty girls are supposed to play?”

  * * *

  Through his sobs Tyler heard the sound of cracking bone. He turned to see the demon standing in the middle of the church, staring down to the floor. But at who?

  He dropped the water bottles to the ground. They were useless against the demon without the preacher alive to bless them. What he needed now was a gun, something to take the son of a bitch down for good.

  He stood up and noticed it was Marcy on the floor. She clutched her right hand with her left, her lips twisted and eyes clenched shut in agony.

  “What the hell did you do to her?” Tyler yelled. As the demon stepped back and turned his way, Tyler suddenly wished he’d waited until he had a gun to speak.

  “Nothing more than I’m going to do to you.”

  Tyler felt his feet lift from the ground, his body floated in the air at the mere thought of the demon. How are we supposed to kill someone who could do this? If the demons all had powers like the ones he’d seen, humankind was in for a long and painful fight. A war the likes of man could never hope to win.

  The demon spread his thumb and little finger apart which sent Tyler’s arms to the side. He then held the middle finger and thumb of his other hand together and slowly spread them apart like he was blowing up a picture on a cell phone. Tyler felt his legs and head stretch tight followed soon after by a tug. His head and legs pulled father apart the farther the demon’s fingers went. As the first vertebrae in his back cracked, he imagined this is what it felt like to be tortured on the rack. Oddly enough, the sensation he first felt was relief, feeling like it had been popped by a chiropractor. But as more and more of them popped, he realized they were being pulled apart. While they were flexing now, it was just a matter of time until they were pulled apart.

  During all this he clenched his teeth together, refusing to make the smallest noise. It was a small consolation, but if he was going to die, he wanted to go on his terms. And his terms were simple, he didn’t want to give the son of a bitch the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

  The demon stepped close, lips curling in a smile as he watched Tyler’s features.

  Behind Tyler, the preacher’s body slumped forward more, his hands holding by nothing more than a fine thread of skin on the head of the nail. It held in place for a long moment until the flesh pulled free and the body hit the ground with a thump. The noise made the demon flinch, giving Tyler a much needed reprieve.

  The demon laughed at the sight, doubling over like he’d heard the punch line of a joke for the first time while the rest of the room held their breath as some peeked through slits in their fingers.

  Well, that was unexpected.

  * * *

  “I can’t sit here and watch this happen,” Al whispered into Judy’s ears. Her face was full of tears, eyes full of red streaks and puffy. She wiped her nose against his good shoulder, pulled away, and gave him her best smile.

  “I know.” She leaned back took his face in, enjoying it for what she thought might be the last time. Even though she wanted to hold him tight she knew he’d never stand for it. She’d been blessed to have him for as long as she had, lucky he’d came back from Vietnam in one piece. She’d lost two brothers and a cousin to the war, each to ambushes deep within the jungles. But somehow, beyond her wildest dreams, Al had returned no worse for the wear.

  She looked at the demon, understanding it was here to take them all away. Send them to the realm of the missing with the others unless someone could stop him.

  “I’m not sure I can,” Winston said, staring off into the distance.

  “Sure you can what, dear?” Judy asked, eying the child curiously.

  “But what if it doesn’t work?”

  “What is he tal
king about?” Al said, eyes now focused intently on the kid.

  Judy leaned in, patted him on the shoulder to get his attention. When that didn’t work she resorted to grabbing his arms and shaking them back and forth. If the kid registered the movements his expression didn’t show it. Even through the pushes and pulls he continued his conversation with himself.

  “Leave him alone,” Al said. “Probably his way of dealing with it.” He leaned in for a kiss that Judy returned. Her lips pressed against him with a vigor he hadn’t felt in years. He yearned to stay by her side, to die side by side in her arms, but that was a last resort. Something he’d consider as a plan be if he didn’t kill the bastard picking his people off one at a time.

  He tried to pull back, but she held him close a moment more. She held her lips to his as long as she could until his lips didn’t respond as they had when she’d first pressed hers to them. “I love you,” she said, pulling back.

  “I love you too.”

  * * *

  The demon’s delight in the preacher’s fall had ended and he began his assault on Tyler anew, adding a pull of his arms to go with that of the rest of his body. His muscles wrenched in all directions, each individual threat threatening to rip apart as the demon spread his fingers farther and farther apart.

  Tyler’s resolve to not scream wavered as holding his breath made the pain worse. He bit his lip, teeth tearing into the soft flesh of the lips hoping it would be enough to keep the shouts in.

  At the demon’s feet, Marcy’s screams had come to an end. Her good hand clutched her bad, putting as much pressure as she could at her wrist to slow the flow of blood. Inch by inch, she slid her body back between the pews, desperately trying to put some distance between her and the instrument of her death. She stopped after a few feet while she still had a clear view of the stage. She hated crawling away while Tyler was being tortured the way he was. She wanted to do something, but wasn’t sure how good she would be with her busted hand. Then she remembered the gun.