by Jeff Kirvin
Daniel couldn't take his eyes off of the demon. A human that had taken the same damage would've been killed instantly. A human certainly wouldn't be pulling himself to his feet and getting angry.
Batarel began to walk, slowly, purposefully, towards Daniel. “You've made the last mistake of your worthless life, mortal."
Daniel began backstepping and he reached into his jacket pocket for the first grenade. As he popped the pin, he began counting to himself.
Three...
Batarel was picking up speed, clenching his charred and ruined hands.
Two...
Daniel moved a step away from the door.
"One!” he shouted as he threw the grenade and leapt.
He heard a clang and a laugh as the grenade bounced past Batarel. It didn't go off!
The next thing Daniel knew he was outside the building and being held off his feet.
"That was clever, speck,” Batarel hissed. “Pity it didn't work."
Up close, Batarel looked much worse than Daniel had previously thought. Most of the demon's skin had either been flayed or burned off his face, and there was a gaping hole in his chest where three of his ribs had been ripped away. The smell of burning flesh was overpowering, and Daniel couldn't help but gag.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Daniel,” Batarel sneered, the tatters of flesh hanging from his face shaking with his outrage. “Do I disgust you?"
Daniel reached frantically into his jacket.
"You think you're so smart,” Batarel continued, “don't you, mortal?"
Daniel shook his head, playing for time as he got a grip on the final grenade.
"Yes, you do. I know you do. I've seen your kind come and go. Individually, you're meaningless, worthless. You think you know so much, you think you're so important, but the seventy-odd years you're limited to just isn't enough for you to see the big picture. It's different for us. I'm immortal. I've got perspective. There's more to this existence than you or your kind could ever possibly comprehend."
Batarel shook Daniel violently. “Pity you'll never even get the chance. I will not allow you to jeopardize our mission. Say goodnight, Daniel."
Daniel popped the pin from the grenade with his thumb. “Goodnight, Daniel,” he hissed as he shoved the live grenade into the space where Batarel's ribs used to be.
"What?” Batarel said as he dropped Daniel and groped at his torso. Daniel rolled away and hugged the ground as the demon exploded.
Daniel raised his head and looked at the aftermath. None of the charred and burning chunks of flesh was larger than a softball. Batarel, the demon that destroyed his life, was gone. Forever.
Daniel reached into his jacket for his radio. “It's over,” he said after he punched the transmit button.
It was over.
Jeff and Susan picked up Daniel in the car and ran him back to the hotel before the cops or fire department could arrive. Daniel was tired as hell, but Jeff had enough energy for all three of them. “Didn't I tell you, Daniel? It worked! Damn if it didn't work!"
"Well, the bombs hurt him, but what saved my life was the other things you gave me."
"The grenades?"
"Yeah,” Daniel said as he reclined on one of the beds and turned on a cable news network for background noise. “The first one was a dud, but the second one was pretty damn effective."
Daniel proceeded to tell them the details of his fight with Batarel.
"What do you think he meant by ‘the big picture'?” Susan asked.
Daniel wasn't listening. “Shhh,” he said as he turned up the television.
"The police have released the names of the deceased as Ronald and Delores Cho,” the newscaster said, “killed last night before someone set a gasoline fire in their privately owned San Francisco grocery store."
"Oh my God,” Susan breathed.
The television screen was full of the aftermath of the blaze. Daniel's parents’ store had burned almost to the ground, only the metal parts of the building left standing amidst the ashes. The network cut back to the anchor.
"Police have confirmed foul play, but have yet to produce a motive. The cash register and safe were still stocked with money.
"At the same time as the attack on Ronald and Delores Cho, their private home was also burned to the ground, claiming the lives of their two daughters, Kathy and Samantha.
"San Francisco Detective Lieutenant Robert Forsberg had this to say."
"This doesn't have the makings of a hate crime,” Forsberg said at a press conference. “The bodies were not defiled, and the victims were killed quickly and efficiently. All the evidence would seem to point to a professional hit. We're investigating any possible connection with organized crime, and we'll let you know as soon as we find anything."
Daniel clicked the remote and the picture tube went blank. He sat motionless and silent for a long moment before uttering one word.
"Zagam."
Vengeance
The mood in the hotel room had changed very quickly.
"I'll kill him,” Daniel vowed as he lunged for the door.
"Whoa, there, bucko,” Susan said as she stepped between Daniel and the door. Jeff walked over to stand beside her.
"If you go after Zagam now,” Susan continued, “he'll rip you apart. You'd be lucky to get past the front door."
"I don't care. I'm going."
Jeff reached up and placed his palm flat on Daniel's chest. “Daniel,” he said quietly, but with more force and authority than Daniel had ever heard, “sit down."
Daniel sat.
Jeff stood over him, his aged body somehow managing to look imposing. “Daniel, Susan's right. Zagam did this terrible thing to get to you, and if you go charging over there looking for revenge, you'll just get yourself killed. He's waiting for you, and you can't afford to play his game.
"So here's what you're going to do. You're going to stay right here and help Susan and me prepare the story. You have more firsthand knowledge than we do, and we need you too much right now to let you get yourself killed. Later, when the story's out, you'll have the opportunity and the means to take the bastard out."
"No.” Daniel started to get up, but Jeff pushed him back in the seat.
"You don't understand!” Daniel screamed. “That monster—"
"I understand!” Jeff yelled in Daniel's face. “I understand better than you'll ever know! I know how it burns, knowing that bastard's out there and that the cops'll never catch him. I know how your heart cries out for vengeance. But as hard as this may be to accept, you have more important things to do right now.
"You can die tomorrow. We need you today."
Daniel finally broke down and began to sob. Susan put her arm around him, and the three humans were quiet for a while.
An hour later Daniel was sound asleep on one of the beds while Susan sat with Jeff in the kitchen, talking quietly about what they'd do after the story was released.
"It's just going to be so nice,” Susan said, “to finally stop living in hotel rooms and be able to go home again."
"You can't go home again, Susan,” Jeff smirked, then his face grew solemn. “I don't care what Uriel said about the demons having bigger fish to fry than us once the news is out. There's always going to be somebody looking for a little payback."
"Oh,” Susan said. That reminded her of something. “Jeff, can I ask you a question?"
Jeff smiled. “Since when do reporters ask permission?"
"When Daniel wanted to go kill Zagam and said you didn't understand, you said you did, far better than he'd ever know. What did you mean?"
Jeff's lighthearted yet sarcastic manner, so much a part of his personality that Susan didn't even notice it anymore, vanished. He looked like a different, and far older, person. “Oh,” he said, “that.
"You see Susan, I've been exactly where Daniel is right now. I know how he feels because he is me, a me from a long time ago. It all started about the time I got this,” he said, tapping on his metal leg.
"
I'd just had the misfortune of stepping on a land mine in Korea. The docs couldn't save my leg, so they took it off and sent me home. I was very upset about losing my leg, but I've always been a roll-with-the-punches kind of guy, so instead of dwelling on my disability, I focused all the way home on seeing my family, my wife, Rose, and my son, Jeremy. I may have lost a leg, but I was going home to be with the people I loved more than anything in the world.
"What I didn't know was that somewhere over the Pacific Ocean I must have crossed paths with the letter from the State Department informing me of their murders."
Susan's jaw dropped.
"It had been a botched burglary. The thief woke up Rose and Jeremy by accident, and when they discovered him he panicked and shot them both.
"But you see, he wasn't completely incompetent. He left no fingerprints, and after the shootings he must have decided not to take anything that could be traced. He made off with all the cash in the house and disappeared. The cops never caught him. To this day, the murders of Rose and Jeremy Frankel remain officially unsolved."
"Officially,” Susan repeated.
"Right. The cops didn't catch him, but I did.
"Maybe I'd seen too many damn detective movies, I don't know, but I decided I was going to track down the man that took my family from me and have my revenge. I went to a lot of bars on the ugly side of town and spent a lot of money I really didn't have to spend, but I finally got a name and address.
"The guy's name was Joel Rushing. I waited in an alley outside his apartment with a Saturday night special I'd picked up in a pawnshop. For three nights I watched him go in and out, until I was sure it was him, then I made my move.
"The next time he walked in front of my hiding place in the alley, I grabbed him and threw him into the shadows, almost falling off my fake leg in the process. I whipped out the gun and told him who I was.
"He said he didn't know what I was talking about, but his eyes told a different story. I called him a liar and a murderer, and told him he'd never be able to hurt anyone again. I pulled the trigger.
"But the gun didn't go off, you see. It jammed. While I struggled to clear it, he pulled out a knife and plunged it into my stomach. He knelt down to me and whispered, ‘And I got away with it,’ then ran off into the night.
"I was lucky. The knife missed all my vital organs, and I managed to crawl back to the sidewalk. Some kind soul called the ambulance that got me to the hospital before I bled to death. While I was laid up, I told the cops my story, about Rushing and where he lived, but they never found him. He skipped town and for all I know he's still out there somewhere to this day."
"That's terrible,” Susan said.
"The worst part is that I still wonder if he'd have been caught and convicted if I'd gone to the cops right away with what I knew, instead of trying to exact my own vengeance. I just don't know.
"Of course, as far as I know, Joel Rushing was no demon, not literally, anyway. Daniel just needs to understand that once word gets out about them, Zagam will be hunted down and destroyed. Then and only then will Daniel have his revenge."
"Oh, I understand that perfectly,” came Daniel's voice from the living room.
As he walked into the light of the kitchen, Daniel looked different, stronger and more confident than before. “And if I'm not mistaken,” he continued, “we've got work to do."
The three of them worked until very early the next morning putting together Susan's story and organizing the data into the most easily understood presentation. Daniel was full of energy, and his firsthand observations of the demons proved invaluable to Susan in bringing life to the story. When the sunlight finally streamed into the windows of the hotel room, Susan was just typing the final sentence of what she felt was the finest work of her career. Daniel and Jeff were toasting each other, and her, and they were a little punchy from lack of sleep.
Finally, the end of their ordeal was in sight. The story was done. All they had to do was deliver it.
Susan woke up a few hours later to the sound of commotion and cursing. She forced her eyes open and found Jeff strapping on his leg and muttering.
"What's going on?” she asked.
"Damn kid's gone and done it,” Jeff replied. “Daniel's gone and I'll give you three guesses where he went. First two don't count."
"Damn!” Susan got up and started putting on her shoes.
"Where do you think you're going?” Jeff demanded. “You've got a story to deliver, missy. I'll corral Daniel before he gets himself killed."
Jeff opened the door and began to walk out. “I hope,” he added before the door swung shut behind him.
Daniel lurked outside Zagam's house in the hot midday sun. He'd made half a dozen pipe bombs before he arrived and carried them in a backpack slung over his left shoulder. He'd listened closely as Susan recounted her story of being inside the demon's house, and he thought he had a pretty good mental picture of the layout.
He didn't know if the demon would be home during the day, but Daniel was determined to plant the bombs one way or another. If Zagam wasn't home, Daniel would just have to wait until the demon arrived to detonate them. He just hoped he'd have the chance to kill the bastard face to face.
Daniel crept through the bushes to the back of the house. The dog he and Susan had met before was nowhere to be seen. He walked uncontested to the glass patio door.
It was locked, of course. Daniel was in no mood to be subtle. He grabbed a rock and hurled it through the glass.
No alarm.
Daniel was beginning to get suspicious. This was too easy. He carefully walked through the living room to the first short flight of stairs by the foyer.
Daniel walked forward into the den. It was vacant, so he hung a right at the far end and into the dining room and adjoining kitchen (which showed the telltale demonic trait of disuse; however the demons sustained themselves, they apparently didn't eat), finally exiting the kitchen back where he started, at the stairs of the split-level house, one staircase leading up, the other back down to the foyer. He still saw no sign of anyone else in the house.
The only place left to check was the top floor. Daniel carefully climbed the stairs and walked down a hallway with two doors on either side, just as Susan described. The last door on the right, the computer room, was open, and Daniel headed straight for it.
No sooner had he passed the first two doors than a demon appeared out of each. They said nothing, but ushered him ahead into the computer room. When Daniel crossed the threshold, he discovered why.
"Welcome, Mister Cho, to my humble abode, though I believe you have been here before,” Zagam said, reclining comfortably in front of the computer's main console. “These are my associates, Moloc and Sariel. You're going to tell me everything you know about your little friends’ plans, including what they plan to do with the data they stole from me.
"And then, if you're lucky, you will die."
Retribution
Jeff sat in the car outside Zagam's house. As he drove up, he could have sworn he saw Daniel lurking in the bushes, but the kid was nowhere to be seen now. “Screw it,” he said to himself. “No time like the present."
Jeff got out of the car and opened the trunk. Inside was an antique bazooka, the last remnant of his once extensive gun collection. When he sold his house and moved into the camper, he had to sell most of his guns to make room for more essential possessions, but he couldn't bear to give up the bazooka. Somewhere else along the line he'd picked up some shells for it. He hoped they still worked.
Thusly armed, Jeff trotted across the street as fast as his steel leg would carry him and headed around back.
He noticed immediately that the patio door was shattered. Either this was a tougher neighborhood than he thought, or he was on the right track; Daniel had been here. Avoiding loose shards of glass, he stepped inside.
He heard voices upstairs, and one of them sounded vaguely like Daniel. After making sure the bazooka was ready to fire, he climbed the first flight
of stairs. In the den between the first and second flights, the voices were clearer. He stopped to listen.
"Come now, Cho. I know you can tell me how to retrieve my files, and the sooner you do so, the sooner this will all be over. You can't be very comfortable,” said someone, probably Zagam.
"No?” the voice continued. “Very well. Right ring finger."
"Yes, Zagam,” another voice answered.
Jeff heard a sickening crack followed by Daniel's scream of pain. The sick bastards were torturing him!
Jeff momentarily aimed the bazooka up the second flight of stairs, only to realize he'd get Daniel too. Well, he thought, if not all together, one at a time. He shifted his aim down the first flight of stairs, the way he came, and pulled the trigger.
With a whoosh of air the shell flew down the stairs and into the floor of the foyer, where it promptly exploded. Jeff ran backwards and took cover in the dining room.
"We're under attack!” he heard Zagam yell. Within moments, two demons he'd never seen leapt down the stairs. As soon as the first one was clear, Jeff let him have it with the bazooka. Body parts flew and the demon was gone.
One down ... , Jeff thought as he dodged the blast into the kitchen.
"Zagam!” the second demon screamed. “He has a bazooka!"
"What of it, coward?” There was a pause, then, “Hold your fire, human. I'm coming down."
Suddenly Jeff realized he was in something of an inopportune strategic location. As Zagam reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in the doorway to the kitchen, remarkably unconcerned that the two bazooka blasts had set his house afire, the other demon entered the dining room by way of the den. They were both carrying pistols, and they had him in a textbook crossfire.
"My my my,” Zagam mused as the flames from the foyer climbed the lower staircase behind him. “Cho and his little playmates are just popping out of the woodwork, aren't they? And this one, really. You're nearly as old as I am. And threatening an immortal with that relic."
"Did a pretty good job on your buddy in there,” Jeff said, mustering all the bravado he could.