by George Fry
Drifter:
Aimless Wanderer
Written by George Fry
Copyright © 2019 by George Fry
Published: April 2019
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
WARNING: Contains depictions of violence and bad language.
For contact or general insults:
https://gab.com/NomadJustDisappointed
[email protected]
Cover art illustrated by:
https://www.deviantart.com/afd42
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1: The Man in the White Coat
Chapter 2: Powerless
Chapter 3: Hell's Wasteland
Chapter 4: Miss Lajioe's Bodygaurds
Chapter 5: Miss Lajioe's Admirer
Chapter 6: Monster of the Mist
Chapter 7: True Warrior
Chapter 8: White Heathen
Chapter 9: The Cult of Daemonism
Chapter 10: Confronting Daemonism
Chapter 11: The First Kill
Chapter 12: Not Human
Chapter 13: Too Human
Chapter 14: Reject all Reason
Chapter 15: Bloody Sanctuary
Chapter 16: Unlocked
FINAL CHAPTER: One Last Save
Chapter 1: The man in the white coat
✽✽✽
“You hear about the giant demon sightings out in the country?”
“Oh, christ… I’ve got too much going on in my life to be worrying about more demons blowing shit up, right now…”
“Yeah, but I heard this one was about the size of a house. A real big bastard this time.”
“God, why isn't parliament doing anything about this?”
“Their bloody useless. By the time they get off their arses, the monster’s either disappeared, or caused so much damage there’s nothing left to do. Even arming the police with heavy grade weapons hasn’t solved anything.”
“I don’t get it… I’ve heard of demon attacks in other other parts of Europe, but they’re nowhere near on the same scale as the shit we see in England. They get minor assaults, while we have an entire city wiped off the map!”
“ ‘Blinding Light! City of Birmingham Erased!’ That was the headline I saw. I’ll never forget waking up to the news that day...”
“I’m so sick of this. It’s been five years, but instead of doing anything about these monsters, we’ve all just accepted them. We go about our day, as if nothing's happening… until another random attack kills more people. Then we 'send our prayers' and go back to pretending like nothing happened... again...”
No matter where you were, the conversation was always the same. Tired individuals, ranting over the hopeless hell they were forced to live in. With no outside countries willing to help, the people of Britain had been completely abandoned.
The demons were just as elusive as they were destructive and no government wanted to take responsibility for any massive, collateral damage and/or casualties that would result in fighting off monsters they didn't even understand. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, this was Britain’s problem to deal with.
However, the two men, drinking their woes away in a pub, on the outskirts of London, were suddenly distracted by a strange man wandering into their small establishment.
Looking tired and weary, the man sat at the counter as the other patrons all stared at him. Interrupting more than just one conversation with his arrival.
It was his appearance that drew their attention. His plain black shirt, boots and jeans were nothing too garish, but the white coat hanging from his shoulders screamed excessive, not the kind of extravagant attire one would wear on a trip to their local pub.
Still, the coat’s colours were washed out, with dark, reddish stains and tears along the bottom and a hole stripped through the left shoulder. It's filthy state lead some to believe this wasn’t just for show.
His long, black hair, obscured his face, making it difficult for the patrons to confirm his facial features from afar and it was tucked inside his coat making it impossible to ascertain its true length.
He gave off an aura of dread and disdain, leaving the patrons terrified to approach him. Ironically, despite his intimidating presence, he was only of average height and build, with no wrinkles to speak of. A young adult, possibly in his early twenties, which only raised further questions.
But, not as many as the final striking detail of his appearance, the large sword and scabbard strapped to his back. In these dangerous times, where demon attacks were spontaneous and deadly, it wasn’t uncommon for people to carry around weapons for self-defense, but a medieval style, arming sword seemed like overkill, even to the most paranoid of people.
Even with all the low murmurs of speculation being thrown about upon his arrival, the man simply ignored them and sat down at the bar, waiting to be served.
The woman working the counter was slightly on edge, but nonetheless, remained professional.
“Good afternoon, sir. What’ll you have?”
The man raised his head, peering at her through his wild hair and deep black eyes.
“Do you serve tea?”
“Uh…. what?” The server’s brain cracked for a split second. “This is a pub, sir.”
“So, that’s a no?”
“No…. I-I mean, yes! We don’t serve tea, s-sir.”
The man looked down in dismay.
“…fine, coffee then.”
“Um, okay. I guess I can get you that.”
The server soon returned with a cup of coffee. Black, with a teaspoon of sugar.
“Anything else I can get for you?” She asked.
“No.” He bluntly replied.
The server walked away, sighing with relief. The man barely spoke a word and yet she felt like she was navigating a verbal minefield. As the man sipped at his coffee, he inadvertently interrupted the two men’s conversation. The fact that he was sitting right next to them only raised their anxiety.
“Hey, you think that’s him?” One of them whispered to the other.
“Him who?”
“You know… the demon slayer guy?”
“What? I never heard anything like that in the news.”
“That’s because the media barely talks about him, but he’s definitely out there.”
“Wait, is this related to the demon corpses the police keep finding?”
“Yeah, the ones that look like they’ve been brutally sliced apart…”
“It’s scary imagining anything being able to do that to a demon.”
“I heard it was a human with a sword that did them in.”
“How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know, but it’s brilliant, right? That there’s someone out there putting those bastards in their place.”
“And you think the guy sitting behind us is our mystery demon slayer?”
“Who knows? He fits the descriptions I’ve seen. White coat. Long hair. Sword.”
The man in the white coat’s entire body tensed up for a moment, overhearing their conversation. He really just wanted to drink his coffee and relax for a moment. The last thing he wanted was unnecessary attention.
“Oh, don’t be stupid! That could be any weirdo with a sword. People will try anything to not get attacked these days.”
/>
“You think he’s a fake?”
“I think I’ve got to make myself scarce before that big bastard shows up and tears Twickenham a new one.”
Relieved that their conversation had steered away from the topic of the mysterious demon slayer, the man in the white coat was finally able to return to relaxing with his drink. It wasn’t that he was anxious about being discovered, he just really hated dealing with people.
Mere moments after one of the bar patrons headed for the exit, a slight tremor erupted from the ground, as the door slammed open in the patron’s face. Before he knew it, he was grabbed by two men in face masks, holding him hostage at gunpoint.
As soon as the other customers realised what was happening, the bar burst into panicked screaming. The tallest of the two gunmen had his arm locked around the patron’s neck, with his gun digging into his temple.
The second, shorter gunman, pointed his firearm wildly in all directions to cover all of his bases, making sure no one escaped his sight.
“EVERYONE, SHUT THE FUCK UP, OR HE DIES!” The tall gunmen ordered.
The people in the bar soon quieted down in response.
“Now, listen up! Just do as we say and nobody gets hurt! Got it!?”
No one in the bar was in any position to argue. As if the thought of being mauled by demons wasn’t already a reason for them to be living in fear for their lives, the heartless criminals, who took advantage of their fears made their existence twice as miserable.
With the police focusing their efforts on demonic terrorists, it was easier than ever for petty criminals to slip through the gaping cracks in the law’s surveillance.
“Now! Everyone, get on the floor and don’t move a fucking muscle! If I see even a hint of resistance, this guy isn’t the only one who’ll die!”
As instructed, the men and women of the bar hid underneath the tables, the ones unlucky enough to be sitting on stools at the bar were left to crawl into the fetal position. Humiliated by their own uselessness.
“Alright. D! Go to the counter and take as much money from it as you can!”
The smaller gunman remained still.
“Hey, D! Move already!”
“J... I think we’ve got trouble.” He replied.
The tall gunman looked around the bar, everyone was on the ground, just as he ordered, except for one. Staring up at the TV screen above the drink rack, the man in the white coat was too fixated on the news to even give the criminals the courtesy of his attention.
“Birmingham... “ He mumbled. “Has it really been that long…?”
“Hey, arsehole! You deaf!?” The gunman yelled. “Get on the floor!”
The man in the white coat didn’t budge, except to take another sip from his coffee. As the cup was about to meet his lips, it was shattered by a bullet, spilling the leftover contents all over the counter.
“Get on the floor, or the next one goes through your damn head!”
Taking hostages and threatening the lives of innocents was one thing, the man wasn’t fazed cowardly, underhanded tactics like that anymore, but spilling the coffee that he paid for was unforgivable. Now he was mad.
The man in the white coat slowly rose from his stool and turned to face the gunman from across the room, firing back with a piercing glare. It sent a shiver down the burglar’s spine. The man's eyes were cold, filled with a chilling confidence, completely composed in the face of death.
“What are you playing at?” The gunman questioned.
“Robbing a pub, in broad daylight? Pretty ballsy.” The man in the white coat replied.
“Well, I’d say the police are a little preoccupied at the moment.”
“Pardon?”
“Can’t you feel it? It’s coming!”
The man in the white coat paused. The tremors from earlier had gotten stronger and just outside the windows, he could see police cars rushing past.
“The Big Bastard.” The man in the white coat realised. “He’s your distraction.”
“What’s more important: A small time robbery, or a giant demon tearing through little old Twickenham?”
The man in the white coat couldn’t care less about his reasoning and stepped forward.
“Stop!” The gunman ordered. “Another step and I kill this guy!”
The man shrugged.
“If you want gunpowder and brains exploding in your face, then go for it.”
The gunman hesitated, but to show he meant business, he shot his hostage through the leg instead, causing the man to scream in agony, violently thrashing in the gunman’s grasp, until he dropped him to the ground.
Undeterred, the man in the white coat continued moving forward, one slow step at a time.
“Four bullets left. Gonna waste anymore?”
The gunman raised his weapon.
“Who the hell do you think you are!? Get any closer and you’re dead!”
“A real hardened criminal would have pulled the trigger already.”
“Don’t test me! I just wanted to make a clean getaway. You take another step and I'll shoot you!”
The man in the white coat took another step forward.
“Do it.”
Insulted, the gunman fired his third bullet directly at the man in the white coat’s forehead. His head was thrown back from the force and for a brief moment, the gunman was thrilled to have silenced his cocky target.
His victory only lasted a few seconds as the man in the white coat didn't fall. He stood firm as he raised his head back up.
The robbers looked in awe as the bullet appeared flattened on the man’s forehead, with a faint white glow emanating from the point of impact. The man in the white coat peeled the bullet off his face like a sticker, and dropped it on the floor, his skin completely unharmed.
“Three left.” He noted. “Want to call it quits?”
“W-what the fuck?” D asked, dumbfounded.
“It’s a trick.” J reasoned. “He must have a metal plate in his head or something.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” The man laughed sarcastically.
“Shut up!”
The gunman fired his remaining bullets into the man in the white coat, this time aiming at the rest of his body.
The faint white aura appeared over the man’s body again. The bullets struck his chest and waist, with the last only striking his coat. However, the bullets were flattened once again, as if they had crashed into a steel wall. Even his clothes were left unharmed, without a single tear.
J and D were too petrified to even attempt to comprehend the power they were facing, as the man in the white coat brushed the bullets off.
“Okay... my turn.”
He pulled out his left hand and pointed it like a gun, as a tiny speck of white light glistened on the end of his finger.
“Bang.”
The speck shot forward at blinding speed, stopping just shy of J’s chest. Then, in a flash, the speck let out an intense force of power, knocking the wind out of the gunman, sending him flying out the pub doors and careening to the other side of the street, where he crashed into a parked police car, smashing through the door and breaking the windows as the alarm went into a frenzy of shrieks.
As amusing as this standoff was, the man in the white coat had created too much of a scene. He needed to leave immediately or risk having to actually explain himself to the pub goers.
Once he headed for the exit, the shorter guman, D, pulled out his own gun.
“St-stop, right there! What the hell are you!? Are you a demon!?”
The man in the white coat didn’t speak a word, he simply put the barrel of the gun between his middle and index fingers and twisted it upwards with no effort, like it was rubber. Without even bothering to check on the people he just saved, he exited the pub.
D, was understandably baffled. The man in the white coat was definitely no ordinary human, but he also never heard of a demon that looking identical to a human either. There was always some sort of distinguishing feature, like
horns or a tail.
If this man was so powerful and yet, not a demon, then what the hell was he? D’s fear soon turned into curiosity. At this point he had nothing to lose. The police were busy and J wasn’t in any condition to order him around, not that he even liked taking orders from him to begin with.
D had nowhere to go, no family, or life to return to and certainly no goals to achieve. After this encounter, however, he may have found one. Who was this man in the white coat? If anyone was in a position to find out, it was D.
He caught up with the man, following him down the empty street. Having no interest in pursuing him quietly, he immediately started shouting after him.
“Hey! Just who the hell are you, anyway!?”
The man in the white coat said nothing and carried on walking, as if D wasn’t even there.
“Don’t ignore me! I’ve got a load of questions for-!”
He was suddenly silenced when the man in the white coat merely turned his head. Glaring at him from over his shoulder. D was so caught up in his stubborn curiosity he had completely forgotten how terrifying he was.
“Take off that stupid mask.” The man groaned.
D complied, revealing his true face. He was young, like he just finished secondary school, with short, messy blonde hair and green eyes.
“Just a stupid kid…” The man muttered, continuing on his way.
“I’m not a kid! I’m eighteen! That makes me an adult!” D retaliated in offense.
“Good. You don’t need me to babysit you, so get lost.”
D was at an impasse. The man in the white coat still scared him, but what if the rumours were true? What if this was the man standing up to the demons? If he let him go now, he may never get another opportunity like this ever again.
The opportunity to discover a way for humans to obtain the power to fight back against the demons. Even a delinquent like him understood the importance of such a discovery.
With J out of commission, he didn’t have anywhere left to go. He’d be on the streets again, back to the monotony and misery of begging, stealing and floating between homeless shelters.