CONTENTS
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Did you like the book?
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 Dustin Johnson
All rights reserved.
Find me online: www.dustinwrites.com
Follow me on Twitter: @JohnsonDustinP
Email me: [email protected]
Cover design by Stephan Johnson, [email protected]
CHAPTER ONE
It was an unseasonably warm October day for Colorado, if you asked Chris. He hadn't even brought a jacket with him when he left the house today. He smiled. Sometimes things can seem so pleasantly normal, he thought. It almost becomes possible to forget how desperate the world has become. Across the street a man carried a young girl on his shoulders, her pigtails oscillating with each step, while a woman pushed a stroller at his side. The woman met Chris's gaze, returned the smile awkwardly, and quickly looked away.
In front of Bobby's Deli, which had long since closed and had its windows boarded up, two old men sat on folding chairs playing chess. The red and black of a checkerboard stood out against the predominantly white and black colored chess pieces. Chris knew, just as the players surely did, that in these times you should just be happy to find a suitable board at all. As Chris approached, the sun's glare reflected from several of the pieces and thoroughly blocked his view of the game. He took a step to the left, which cleared his vision. He spotted the pieces to blame. Both kings and queens were made of glass, whereas the assortment of their supporting armies were formed of the typical plastic you'd find in a cheap chess set. There were even a few scattered pawns made of polished wood, and a single worn penny filled in for what he determined to be a missing black rook.
The older of the two men, his long gray beard folded against his chest, raised a crooked and shaky hand to make a move. The sound of a shattering bottle pierced the air and the old man turned his head with a scowl. "Would you keep it dow—". His face relaxed, and he rose in an unexpected frenzy without lowering his hand. His hip popped in aggravation. The chess pieces toppled to the sidewalk as his knee caught the edge of the board and flipped it from the stack of upside down buckets serving as a table. “A portal is opening!” he shouted. The old man turned and ran as fast as his aged legs would allow, abandoning a cheap wooden cane perched against the building. Chris's eyes followed the man's trail and marveled at the vertical blue ellipse widening in the middle of the street.
A flurry of movement took over the crowd on both sidewalks running the length of the street. Someone bumped into Chris as they ran past, and he caught himself from falling by gripping the head of a parking meter. “Watch it!” he called, not expecting an apology.
He scanned the gathering mob and found the old man again. The old man's body seemed to be floating just above the ground as if the ellipse were pulling him in. In a few more seconds, the blue mass enveloped him, and he disappeared. The cane against the wall remained the only evidence that he had been on the street only moments before.
"Mommy!" cried the pig-tailed girl with tear-filled eyes. She lay on the sidewalk with blood slowly pooling on a skinned knee. It took Chris a few seconds to locate the man that had been carrying her. He was running with a crowd of people to the same ellipse that had captivated the old man.
“Wow,” Chris said. He was shocked at how quickly the portal had grown. The ellipse stretched from the street to the top of nearby streetlights, and its color pulsed through varying shades of blue.
"Jason! Wait!" the woman with the stroller called. "Don't leave us!" She rustled her daughter back to her feet, dragged her with one hand, and pushed the stroller with the other. The young girl's cries continued as all three of them crashed from the sidewalk to the street. A wheel on the stroller squeaked a complaint loud enough to be heard over the growing murmur of people on the street.
"Hurry up," the man, apparently named Jason, replied. "We'll probably never have another chance like this!" The young girl stumbled again and fell roughly to the street. Her wails increased an octave, and her mother bent once again to help. Chris watched from the street as Jason slowly neared the portal and noted how the portal appeared to have an opposite effect on him than it had had on the old man. Swarms of people passed quickly and easily on either side of Jason, whereas he was leaning forward and digging his shoes into the concrete as if he were climbing a steep slope.
“It's like the portal doesn't want him to reach it,” Chris mumbled.
Jason stopped and turned to locate his family. He looked from the woman to the portal and back again several times. He took several hesitant steps back toward the woman but changed his mind and retraced his steps. His gaze finally leveled and remained on the portal. "Screw it,” Jason said. He bent his knees, leaned forward, and his shoes dug into the ground again as he sprinted toward the portal. He fought against the force pushing against him and managed to reach the portal. With one last look back at his family, he propelled himself through. His body erupted into ash, and a puff of smoke drifted lazily in the air.
"No!" the woman cried. "Why would you do that?"
"Another one bites the dust?" a man asked, stepping forward next to Chris on the sidewalk.
"Yeah. I'm pretty sure that's his family. He didn't even take his kids with him when he bailed."
The man shook his head. "They never learn. The word on the street is your soul has to be pure to make it through a portal. You have to be a good person, otherwise you just ... poof.” The man emphasized the statement by opening his fist in a gesture of explosion. “Being a jerk right before trying to make it through is just dumb."
"I know. I personally don't see how someone could do that. I have a wife and kids at home, and I could never imagine abandoning them like he did."
"Yup. I'd like to make it to a portal and see what's on the other side. If it wasn't for my fiancée, I'd be heading for that one right there. That girl means the world to me though, so I just can't do it.”
Chris nodded in acknowledgement.
“Oh well,” the man continued, turning to Chris. “I'm going to see if that lady needs some help. It never hurts to build up some credit, you know what I mean?” He smiled and extended his hand. “I'm Mike by the way."
"I'll help too," Chris said, shaking the offered hand. "I'm Chris." The mother, daughter, and stroller had resumed their slow procession to the portal. Tears had streaked through the dirt covered cheeks of the young girl, and she sniffled in a vain attempt to slow the tide of snot invading her upper lip.
"Do you need help, ma'am?" Mike called.
She turned, startled, and smiled weakly. "No thanks, we've got it,” she said. "We just had a little fall. Hurry, Sally, quickly now," she coaxed.
She livened at her mother's attempt to improve the mood. The girl's legs churned all the way to the portal, running far ahead of her mother. Her shoes heralded her path in a trail of lights formed by each foot-fall. She stopped at the edge of the portal and craned her neck. "Whoa," she said, her mouth hanging open on the last syllable. The excitement had apparently drove away the memory of her skinned knees. The portal pulled at her anxiously, but she resisted while she strained to see the top. After several seconds the girl was either content to have seen what she wanted or gave up in the attempt, because she stopped resisting and dove into the blue ether.
"Swish," Mike said.
"Ye
p, the kids always seem to be fine to pass through. Teenagers can be a toss-up, but I haven't seen a kid go sour yet,” Chris said.
The sound of an engine pierced the air. Both men turned to find the source, as gasoline was somewhat of a rarity in modern times, and their faces filled with concern. A black Mustang with white trim barreled down the street directly toward the portal. Chris noted in horror that it also meant directly at the woman and stroller. "Lady, watch out!" Chris said, jumping toward the street. Mike grabbed his arm to hold him back, and Chris remained with one foot on the sidewalk and the other in the street.
“You won't be able to reach her, man,” Mike said, still gripping the arm tightly. “You'll just get yourself hurt as well.”
The woman turned her head to find the source of the noise as well, and her face contorted in realization. People jumped from the street as the vehicle advanced, narrowly escaping the unexpected threat. Each step she took sent waves of anxiety through Chris's body, and his mind attempted to will her to safety.
She's going to make it, Chris thought. Thank God, she's going to make it. She shoved the stroller forward with a grunt, taking a step, and a small stone settled just under the sole of her right shoe. She lifted her left leg to take another step and the rock shifted underfoot, rolling her ankle in an awkward direction. A yelp of surprise and pain escaped her. She released her grip on the stroller to spare her face from taking the brunt of the impact and came to a painful rest poised on her hands and knees in the street. The stroller's inertia carried it forward, and it picked up speed as it neared the portal. One wheel squeaked its crescendo, fighting valiantly against the roar of the car's engine, and its song finished only when the stroller passed gently through the portal.
“Get up, lady!” Chris said, his breath catching in his throat. The sounds of combustion and horsepower filled Chris's ears, and he doubted she could even hear him. On her hands and knees, no more than three feet from the portal, the woman turned her head to look at Chris.
The car never slowed. The silver horse emblem decorating the front grill made contact first, followed by the rest of the heavy front end, slamming her body to the street. The car careened into the portal, and the sound of the engine was gone. Shattered car parts, scrap metal, plastic, and fine dust filled the air.
"Oh my God," Mike said, his mouth hanging open.
Chris shrugged Mike's hand from his arm. He looked to where the woman's broken and bloody body lay in the middle of the street. "Come on, she could still be alive. We have to get her into the portal."
“It's too late,” Mike said. He pointed to the dark red swirls that now decorated the portal's entrance. The swirls elongated and widened, stretching themselves into the forms of creatures larger than any human Chris had ever seen. Their skin seared, burned, and morphed from shades of dark red to black as if there was an intense fire raging underneath it.
"Shit," Chris said. "You're right, the sentinels are here." Chris watched as blood splattered from the woman's mouth, and her body lurched to expel the liquid from its lungs. She rasped for breath in a pool of her own blood. She didn't make it, he thought. I can't believe it. This can't be happening.
"Please, help me," she called in a gurgle. "Please, help me." Her voice was distorted, but the blatant desperation tore deeply into Chris's soul.
"I'm so sorry," Chris called. "I wish we could, but the sentinels won't let us near." I sound so pathetic, Chris thought. Why do I have to be so scared to do the right thing? God forbid that was Sarah out there, I'd want someone to help her if I couldn't, sentinels be damned.
"Please, my babies are gone," she pleaded, one hand clawing at the concrete. "My babies need me. I jus—.” Her voice cut out as her lungs expelled fresh blood into the growing pool. “I just want to be with my babies."
One of the creatures stepped a fiery leg over her body and palmed her face with a clawed hand. Long black fingernails extended down the sides of her face like knives. The skin sizzled, turned black, and tore into patches where the fingers grasped. "Ow, oh my God, please God, no, ow, don't let me die like this!" she screamed. A wave of nausea passed through Chris. "Please help me, anybody!" The fingers dug deeper into her skin and penetrated her skull. Her cries increased briefly, and then just as suddenly as they had increased, they muffled.
The sentinel turned and looked directly at Chris. The flickering flames of its eyes bored a hole into his mind. "Come on," Mike said. "There's a church a couple doors back. We can hide there until they're gone. You know they can't walk on holy ground, right?"
"Yeah," Chris said, struggling to turn from the beast holding the woman's dead body. "I know." He shook his head, attempting to come to terms with everything that had happened, and backed away from the curb.
The beast leaned back for leverage and threw the woman's body. It sailed through the air toward them, crumpled at the mid-section around a streetlight, and fell to ground level. Her legs lay splayed on the sidewalk, while her torso had fallen into the street.
Chris turned and ran, his t-shirt sticking to his chest. Mike's labored breath followed him until he stopped in front of the large black doors, which were decorated with only a single wooden cross. A sign above the doors proclaimed this was St. Paul's Roman Catholic Church. Chris yanked open one of the doors and crossed the threshold, closing it as soon as Mike followed him inside. A throng of people had already sought shelter in the sanctuary, and a room full of wide eyes observed them nervously. Whispers floated in the air from several conversations, which Chris presumed were about them.
"Welcome to St. Paul's," a voice called from the crowd. "All of God's children are welcome here." A man, clad in the gold and white vestment of a Catholic priest, stepped forward. "I'm Father Nordstrom. May I ask your names?"
"Chris Tregaron," Chris replied, raising his hand in an awkward wave.
"Mike Walters."
"We are surely in the end of the days, children of God. Please be careful to avoid the demons until the Lord's army comes to vanquish them, and we all ascend to a better place." He raised his arms in a sign of praise and smiled.
"I wish I had your faith, Father," Chris said. "I hope you don't find it offensive that I'm not exactly on board with that just yet. I may not be remembering my Sunday School teachings very well, but aren't some horsemen supposed to be arriving to save us?"
Father Nordstrom smiled again. "Of course I don't take offense. Remember, however, that whether we believe in a thing or not does not change whether that thing is true. I will be sure to keep you in my prayers. I'm certain the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, of which you speak, will come when the Lord decides to fulfill his prophecies. As our Lord said in Acts 1:7, 'It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority.'"
"In any case, we certainly appreciate you letting us in," Chris said. "The good news is, for whatever reason, they can't reach holy ground. It doesn't matter whether it's Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, or Joe's Backyard Kool-Aid drinking cult."
"Exactly," a long-haired man said, shifting the laptop he carried from under his right arm to his left. He used his newly freed right hand to nudge his wire-rimmed glasses back up on the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. "You know, I've been tracking the portal openings since they started. I don't believe the locations where they open are random."
"What do you mean?" someone asked.
He cleared his throat again. "The portal locations appear to be following a pattern. The duration between each successive occurrence is decreasing. The time difference isn't very significant, and you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it, but it does add up over time."
"How does that relate to the sentinels, or demons, or whatever they are?" Chris asked.
"Well,” he continued, nudging his glasses up again. “It looks like the sentinels have started to wander more. In the beginning they stayed within a four foot radius around the portal. At this opening, I was seeing them move up to ten feet away. If the trend continues, t
hen I think they are going to become more dangerous and unpredictable. Most likely more aggressive in their pursuit of victims as well."
“How do you know so much about these portal openings, anyway? Where are you getting the information from?” Mike asked, trying not to sound overly skeptical.
"Let me start by introducing myself,” he said. “My name is Brent Stiles. I used to work as a mathematician for the government, before everything shut down of course, and I was one of the initial researchers into the first events. Now I just, well, I guess it's kind of become a hobby. I know it sounds silly, but I find them fascinating."
"Just remember, everyone,” Father Nordstrom interjected. “God doesn't need you to walk through a portal; He just needs you to accept Jesus into your heart. If you just do that and keep your faith, God will save your soul when you die."
Always the car salesman, Chris thought. More power to him. Whether he's right or not, it can't hurt to give people something to believe in.
"Walking into a portal seems a whole lot easier, Father," Brent replied. “I'll keep that as a backup, okay?"
"God will still be here, just make sure not to wait too long," the Father replied, emphasizing the warning with a slight frown.
The crowd of people brooded in silence over the entire situation. It took the sudden shrill sound of emergency sirens to make Chris aware of how quiet everything had become outside. "Do you think it's over?" he asked.
"Could be," Mike said.
Chris walked to the door and opened it just enough to peer out. "Yeah, looks like it's over."
"Back to the grind then," Mike said, grabbing the door held open by Chris and swinging it wide. "Thanks again for letting us hold up in here, Padre."
"You're always welcome. Feel free to come to any of our weekly services; it'd be wonderful to see you again. May God be with you," Father Nordstrom said.
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