Demontouched: The Demontouched Saga (Book 1)

by Wayne, Douglas

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Review A

  Read More A

  Join the List

  Help Me Out

  Author's Note

  About the Author

  My Other Books A

  DEMONTOUCHED

  The Demontouched Saga

  Book 1

  Douglas Wayne

  DEMONTOUCHED

  THE DEMONTOUCHED SAGA

  BOOK 1

  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.

  Click or visit:

  douglaswayne.com

  This book is dedicated to my wife and kids. Without your sacrifice these books would have not been possible.

  -1-

  I wouldn’t necessarily call it a bad thing, but since burning the bar down the street I’ll have to find another way to drown out the screams. I look down at the body at my feet, wondering why this dumb shit had been stupid enough to draw Nalar’s wrath. Nal may be a sick bastard, but he doesn’t have me kill someone without a good reason. Then again, I would rather just kill them outright rather than what he usually wants done.

  Nalar considers himself somewhat of a governor of the suburb. He claims to answer to someone higher, but I never cared to ask who. He is a mid level thug who has enough sway to get a few of his plans worked into the boss’ overall scheme. This isn’t the type of guy I exactly like working for, but he only sends me to the targets that really deserve it.

  The good ole sheriff got his attention by coming down here and pulling the prostitutes off of the streets. This kind of thing can piss off a guy, but most guys in the business write that off as a cost of doing business.

  The real problem was that the sheriff had been kidnapping the girls to start his own business out in the country. If you think the cops were corrupt before, I almost beg to have the old days back. You at least had a fifty-fifty shot of running into one of the good guys back then. You might not have gotten out of a ticket, but at least you didn’t have to fear for your life. All the good Lord left us with now are the corrupt ones. Sure, there may be one or two like me that still fight the good fight, but I’m not going to stake my life on it.

  I kneel down, put my gloves on, and pull out the cross and holy water out of my pack. Einuir doesn’t like it when I accidentally get some on my skin and I don’t like having to explain why I’m walking around in my skitters any more than I have to, so I’ll play it safe. Sometimes I regret making a pact with a demon, but if I have to be alive during this shit I am glad he is on my side.

  I place the cross on his chest and sprinkle some holy water around him. Normally, I would throw in some salt for good measure, but Eunie made it disappear the last time he took over. Demons like him are why I try to keep as many souls from going to the demented fucks as I could.

  Prayers are out of my hands, though. All that would do is guarantee a quick trip to see the big buy. Not worth the price of a few words.

  I grab my knife, clean it off on the good sheriff’s shirt, and put it back in my boot. Then I close the bottle of holy water and put it back in my bag. The cross can stay, it may help him go up top. At least he has a better shot than I do.

  I turn around, walk out of the room and shut the door, all while noticing the carnage this mark caused. Every building on the right side of the street is in flames. So much for sneaking out in the cover of darkness.

  “Put your hands where I can see them.” I hear the voice coming from behind what remained of the steps leading into the tavern.

  I raise my hands in the air slowly. The cop was a portly ole guy. And by portly, I mean he hasn’t missed a meal in a long time. And by not missing a meal I mean he never missed double portions at a meal.

  “Situation is under control officer. I am sorry about the bar. Really sorry, in fact. Today is payday, and I was looking forward to a beer or six.” I lower my hands and try to take a step.

  The sound of a gunshot causes my ears to ring.

  Did that fat fuck just take a shot at me? I stop and look over at the pig. His hands are shaking, sweat already starting to pour through his shirt.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I have one wicked dark side that you do not want to anger.”

  “Stand still, the sheriff is coming. He is going to take you in.”

  I hold back a laugh. “Sheriff’s already here.” I motion my head back towards the place I just left. “I can promise you that he isn’t taking me anywhere.”

  I take another step. Piggie takes another shot.

  The darkness begins to coarse through my veins. If I don’t get a grasp of this quick, fatty here isn’t going to have any more meals to worry about. I look over at him, raise my left hand slightly and concentrate on the barrel of the gun.

  “You win.” I raise my hands in the air. The gun flies out of his hands and up into the air. I pull my arms back into me, bringing the rifle to my hands.

  “Lucky for you, I don’t like to kill any more than I have to.” I eject the cartridges out of the gun then throw it on the ground. “Now, get out of here before my dark side decides to object with my preferences.”

  I hear sirens approaching from the south. Figures that I would end up pissing off the one police force still around after the Rising.

  Three police cars move in and surround me, headlights pointed at my ugly mug.

  I can feel the darkness flooding through my body and vertigo is starting to settle in. Not good.

  The officers, two per car open their doors and take aim squarely at me.

  “On the ground, now” the one in the middle yells.

  “Is there a problem, officer?” My whole life I’ve wanted to say that to a cop. Only now would I do it to a cop who has his gun out.

  “On the ground!” he says. I can see them talking into the microphones secured on their shoulders. They are too far away for me to make out, but I have good money they are getting ready to put me down.

  The darkness is getting too thick. My head is spinning.

  I.

  Must.

  Keep.

  It.

  Together.

  Breathe.

  Just need to breathe.

  I put my hands in the air and start to kneel.

  Right knee.

  Left.

  I start to go to the ground as the officer on the far right walks towards me. As I lay face down in the dirt I can feel the darkness continuing to grow. Moments later, Officer Jackwad places his knee in the small of my back and handcuffs me. Once I’m secured, he grabs the cuffs and lifts me up to my feet rather pleasantly, which I find amazing. Most of the time they like to toss you around like a rag doll, waiting for you to make a wrong move. When you do, they kick the shit out of you and file a resisting arrest charge. It’s nice to find one with some decency.

  He walks me over to the front of his squad car and slams me face first into the hood. Guess the pleasantries are over.

  “You carrying anything we need
to be concerned about?” For some reason, they always like to ask that question. The part I don’t get is why they wait to ask that until after they start copping a feel.

  “Just a deep hatred for being slammed into your car,” I say. When he doesn’t get the joke I continue. “Knife in my left boot. Oh, and a lingering darkness in my soul that isn’t promising for my future.”

  Officer Jackwad proceeds to rifle through my pockets and finds my gloves. Then the knife. I watch as one of the other officers dumps the contents of my pack on the hood of the car.

  “You a holy man, mister?” He grabs the cassock from my collar and throws it with the rest of my stuff.

  “When the time calls for it.” Something tells me that time will be very soon.

  “I would have thought people would stop believing in God the moment he left us here,” lead cop says, grabbing my Bible.

  Another officer walks up to the house and opens the door. The same one one where I left the sheriffs corpse. “You are going to want to see this, Sergeant. It’s Bill.”

  Well, this show is about to get a shit-ton more interesting.

  Sergeant walks to the door and looks into the room. “Do you know what happens to cop killers, son?” he says, holstering his weapon.

  “Let’s see. They get taken to the station and booked, but won’t speak until they get a lawyer. Then they sit in a prison for months while evidence is collected. If they are lucky, a jury will be selected after a year or so. They get found guilty without a doubt. Jury never doubts a cop’s word. Then, they sit on death row for another two decades while the government waffles on whether or not the death penalty is even legal. By then, depending on whatever shit storm God has planned for us here, they’ll probably just jab the needles in their arm themselves.”

  “Trial?” The Sergeant laughs. “Son, the only judge you are going to see is Saint Peter. If your beliefs are true.”

  It doesn’t take long for the pain to hit. Fists with a side of feet.

  Or was it feet with a side of fists?

  Doesn’t matter. Eunie isn’t happy. The darkness finally takes over.

  I sat in my usual chair, at my usual table at Charlie’s.

  I just got through hell week at work. A dozen deadlines for our various products all due back to back to back to friggin’ back. I needed to get out before the next round of bullshit hit.

  “I’ll take a Bud,” I told Eve, our normal waitress. She was one of the bright spots of Charlie’s. Her long black hair and amazing smile ensured that this part of the bar was always crowded on a Friday night.

  Something tells me when the guys notice she’s been hiding a baby-bump for the last few weeks, things might change.

  “You still don’t talk to Carla?” Mike pulled out his wallet.

  “Nope. Haven’t had much time if I even wanted to.” I said, grabbing my beer.

  Carla was a good woman, and gorgeous. I do still miss her, but I don’t miss her being around every waking moment.

  “It’s just weird seeing you without her. How long were you guys together? Two years?”

  “Four.” I downed my beer; I didn’t want to think about it.

  “Any plans for the weekend? Dave and I are heading down to the lake in the morning. I have plenty of room down at the cabin.”

  “I have to catch up on a few things around the house.”

  It was only a half-truth.

  I don’t want to play fifth-wheel all weekend. The lake was the place they would take their fling-of-the-week in hopes of getting some action. The only action I would be getting was a weekend Netflix binge and I could do that at home. I didn’t have to worry about rejection that way.

  Eve walked by handing me my third beer of the night. I pop the cap and scan the crowd. My eyes stopped as I noticed her walking through the door.

  She had a few of her friends with her, but they had nothing on her. She had long red hair that flowed halfway down her back and wore those dangling earrings that I would grow to hate, but would endure for another eight lifetimes if I could see her again.

  And those eyes, those deep blue eyes.

  “You awake Mitch?” Mike punched me in the arm. I nodded, trying to find her again.

  Mike laughed. No doubt at my expense. “Guess Carla really isn’t in the picture.”

  “It’s that obvious?” I take another drink.

  “Yup.” He gives me a push on the arm. “Go get her, man.”

  I couldn’t. It was going to take a lot more than three beers to break that barrier.

  After a while, the constant razzing from Mike, and four more Buds I downed, my courage decided to show up.

  Across the bar, I noticed her friend walking away with some guy.

  This was my shot.

  I approached from her blindside tapping her on her shoulder. Part of me wants to duck back into the crowd, but I’m not nearly fast enough.

  She turned and looked me in the eyes.

  “Hi, I’m Mitch.”

  Even back then, I got lost in those eyes.

  -2-

  I wake up on the pavement with one hell of a headache.

  Picking myself up, I try to remember where I am. I look around and notice a body dangling from a lamp, leaking out its intestines. Two more bodies smashed into the hood of one of the cars. There was even one that was stuck on a telephone pole in a way that would have made Vlad the Impaler proud.

  Eunie had himself a little fun last night. I’m glad I don’t remember it.

  I try to remember what I was doing to bring on the party when I notice a handcuffs on my wrists, the chain between them broken. I walk to the nearest body and grab his keys and free myself before grabbing my stuff off of the hood of the car, feebly attempting to avoid the blood.

  Knife.

  Gloves.

  Holy Water.

  Bible.

  Eye Drops.

  Bottle of Jim.

  All the necessities are covered so I put them back in my bag and get into one of the cruisers. Unless Eunie left a witness, they won’t be needing it anytime soon.

  I open the glove compartment and look for something to put in the stereo. The one downside to the apocalypse is that radio is the one industry to truly suffer. The people that got left decided that it wasn’t high on the list of things to keep running. Normally I would agree, but it isn’t often you find a killer CD collection in a cop car. Looks like I’ll be making the return trip in silence. The way my head is pounding, that is probably my best bet anyways.

  I slap the car in drive and head back to the city. I don’t hate the country, but it is even more quiet now than it was before. The city has taken over as my favorite place to hang. Three years ago you wouldn’t have caught me out here at all, unless I managed to land tickets to a game. Today, if you even hope to catch a glimpse of another person you better move close to one.

  When the world went to shit, humanity went crazy with it. If forty percent of the world disappeared on that first day, another twenty percent died in the next few months. Some were unfortunate enough to be on a plane where the pilots disappeared. Others on the highways. The rest died in the struggles of survival.

  It didn’t take long for food and water to become the priority. I still laugh when I think about the idiots who thought the priority was looting the biggest TV you could carry. The smart ones were taking groceries.

  I ditch the cop car before getting to Nal’s place. Driving a cop car around here is an easy way to draw attention. Something that I don’t want at the moment, though I think Nal may like the touch.

  I walk the twenty or so blocks to the hotel Nal took over. Walking inside, I nod to his three goons playing cards in the lobby. Things may look relaxed, but these guys can fight. A few weeks ago we had a rival group come in and try to take over the pad. I guess they thought that simply outnumbering us six to one would be enough to drive us out. Rick, Adam, and Joe just laughed as they handled them by themselves. They may look calm now, but these guys are always looking for
a release.

  The lights flicker a bit as I walk through the lobby. This area of town still has working power. It isn’t really odd to see it now, but it was for a few months there. While there aren’t enough workers to keep the whole grid running, there are enough to keep some packets up. Nal happens to run one of these packets. That might be why I like him so much.

  I enter the stairwell and start the climb to the top floor. I’m not afraid of taking the elevator, but the grid is hardly stable. The last thing I want is to find myself stuck on one. I blame that Youtube video I saw where a guy got stuck on one with massive diarrhea. It was funny as hell to watch, but I wouldn’t want it to happen to me.

  I’m one step into the hallway on the top floor before I’m greeted by two dudes leveling their pistols at me.

  “What business do you have up here?” guy on the right asks.

  New guys. I hate dealing with new guys. One of these days Nal is going to have to start telling his bodyguards about me, though I think he gets off on me putting them in their place. Something about seeing a big guy getting his ass handed to him by the smaller one, I guess.

  I pull out the sheriff’s wallet and flash his badge. “The boss is expecting me,” I say.

  “The boss doesn’t have any appointments today.” I shake my head when they both start to laugh.

  “I’m not the type of guy who needs an appointment. Tell your boss Mitch is here.”

  “The boss doesn’t know a Mitch,” idiot one says.

  “Besides, we don’t like you,” says idiot two.

  I feign a smile. If these guys insist on playing this game, I’ll gladly take the first serve.

  I focus my push on the barrel of their guns and wave my arms to the side. The new guys crash into the walls on each side of me knocking their weapons free. This is not the first time that I’ve done this move, but it is the first time I’ve seen two idiots holding their guns so tight. Normally, I’m happy if I disarm the morons. Something tells me that I’ll be waiting for this result from now on.