In the Devil's Name

by Dave Watson

  As his fingers closed on the plastic handle, he became aware of a sudden chill in the air.

  He glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head in the direction of the open patio door leading to the shadowy back garden. A tall, indistinct shape was materialising out of the gloom, revealing itself slowly as it moved across the back lawn in the direction of the house. Jim froze still, his fist gripping the butcher knife’s handle and the pain in his legs forgotten as a horrible sense of anticipation clutched him.

  It crept out of the darkness slowly, savouring Jim’s grey faced terror and the look of horrified recognition, then it crossed the threshold into the house and towered over him in the bright kitchen, grinning.

  Jim couldn’t scream for a second. His throat locked up and he sat there, saucer eyed and drooling. He couldn’t even breathe as sheer fright froze his lungs, and his already tenuous hold on sanity finally snapped before the hideous alien spectacle standing over him.

  With his last conscious thought, he raised the butcher knife in front of him and turned the pointed blade not in the direction of the unearthly thing facing him, but towards his own chest, intending to spare himself the awful fate the thing before him heralded.

  But he was denied this small mercy.

  There was a blur of movement as the thing lashed out with a clawed appendage, and the butcher knife, still clutched in Jim’s severed hands, dropped between his legs.

  And because his broken mind now realised what was about to happen, he finally screamed with such force his vocal cords tore in his throat.

  The thing before him started ripping.

  Chapter 34

  The scream from downstairs just went on and on.

  I heard a lot of screams during that period of my life, many of them coming from my own throat, but the ones that came from James that black night have stayed with me. I expect they always will, and whatever happens when I finally shuffle off this mortal coil, any hell I end up in will be all the worse if those screams follow me there.

  The bedroom door still wouldn’t give. It was as if there was no door there and I was tugging in vain at a handled section of wall for all the good my efforts yielded.

  On the bed, my dad whispered my name. I sat down on the mattress beside him, a hollow despair setting into my body as I saw that his condition was worsening. He was very pale now, and his breath was shallow and fast. His eyes seemed to have shrunk back into his skull, where they glittered feverishly.

  “Leave it, son,” he said. Although the terrible shrieks from downstairs continued unabated and my dad was talking in a near inaudible voice, I could hear him clearly. “That door’s not going to open any time soon.” His hand groped for mine, and I took it, fighting back frustrated tears of grief. I was helpless to change what was happening before my eyes. He was fading fast and the one responsible was screaming in agony downstairs. James’s cries were gradually becoming weaker, and though I hated him for what he’d done, I hoped he would be silent sooner rather than later.

  Dad’s eyes were closed now and he’d stopped breathing. I shook him gently.

  “Dad, stay with me,” I sobbed.

  His eyes fluttered open once again and he looked at me seriously. There was no fear in his eyes.

  “You’ve got to go now,” he said, his voice stronger than a minute ago. “It’s almost finished with James and it’ll be coming after you next. Go. Now.”

  James’s screams had faded to loud moans now and were becoming weaker. There was one final yelp, which was cut off suddenly, then silence.

  “I’m staying with you, dad,” I told him.

  Incredibly, his face twisted in anger and he pushed me away. His strength was sufficient to send me sprawling on the bedroom floor, where I looked up at him in shock

  “Don’t be such a fuckin’ wee lassie. Don’t you see you’re the last one? Get out of here now. That thing’s on the stairs.”

  I could only sit there on the carpet, my mind a total blank. How could he know that? There was no noise of anything approaching. How did he suddenly find the strength to push me away like that when minutes ago he could barely breathe?

  With a scream of his own, my dad sat up and pushed himself to his feet. Blood poured in a torrent from his mouth and he staggered against the wall. He turned to me and his eyes met mine for the last time.

  “I love you Phil,” he said.

  Before I could move, he pushed himself from the wall, tore open the bedroom door and ran down the upstairs hall in the direction of the stairs, bellowing in rage.

  I called out after him, getting to my feet to give chase. I rushed down the hall and turned the corner to see my dad throw himself down at a huge dark shape that was almost at the top of the staircase.

  The light in the upper landing wasn’t on, but the downstairs hall light backlit the figure ascending the steps, giving me a split second glimpse at a walking nightmare. This was the sniggering creature I’d last seen at Bennane Head that afternoon. I knew it instinctively. That thing that had seemed formless and insubstantial when viewed in daylight was now all too solidly real, coming up my staircase in the near darkness. Past my dad’s lunging form, I saw for a second a writhing mass of oddly jointed limbs that spread out like giant spider legs, barbed hooks and stretched leathery parchment, patches of dark, matted hair surrounding several glowing yellowish points of light. The very air around this entity seemed tainted with a charged, malignant energy which I could feel as an almost unbearable pressure in my skull. Before I could see any more, the light bulb in the downstairs hall exploded with a sharp pop.

  The lights went out, and we were plunged into pitch darkness.

  As the blackness enveloped us, there came the sound of my father’s body colliding with the hellish invader. Almost simultaneously, I felt something slash at the air millimetres in front of my face, then there was a series of crashes, thumps, snarls and hisses as my dad and the thing that had almost taken my face off careened down the steps to the downstairs hall. I screamed after him, and sightlessly felt for the banister, starting downstairs, hearing the struggle continue at the bottom of the staircase.

  “Get out, Phil!” dad screamed at me. “Don’t you come down here!”

  I could hear jaws snapping and blows landing on flesh, my dad’s enraged roars, a sibilant hissing sound, mingled with that hideous sniggering laugh. There was one sudden, loud thud as something hit the floor with sufficient force that I could feel the vibration through my trainers at the head of the staircase, and a picture fell from the wall to my left. Insanely, I remembered my mother buying the cheap ceramic souvenir adorned with a hand painted, grinning donkey in Blackpool on a family holiday years ago.

  The brutal impact was followed by a scream of agony from my father, there was a loud tearing noise like ripping denim, then a horrible gurgling, the ghastly noises ended with a terrible wet crunch that had a cold finality to it.

  I froze then, hearing that last noise. I wished I had the nerve to utter a fearsome battle cry and charge headlong into the blackness before me as my dad had done, but that one loud crunch undid me. My legs folded, and I pitched forward, toppling head first down the stairs, certain that I would meet my end with the last step. I no longer cared. With my dad dead, everyone I had ever loved was gone, and as I sailed blindly to my doom, I was actually glad it was over.

  My forehead struck the corner of a step. I felt the carpet leave a friction burn as my inert body slid bumpily down the remaining stairs, and I could feel the beast in the black reaching for me, could sense its gloating triumph.

  I just prayed it would be quick.

  It wasn’t.

  Chapter 35

  My tumbling body slid off the last step of the staircase, coming to a rest in thick warm liquid, and I could smell and taste hard iron in my throat. I knew the feel of blood well by now. Was familiar with the tack and temperature of it.

  I heard the slow, rasping breath of the thing standing over me and could feel the sick p
ressure in my head that its presence seemed to generate. I sensed its triumph and loathing, and a great wave of tiredness and apathy overcame me. As I sensed it reaching for me out of the dark, I actually welcomed my imminent demise.

  But with the thing poised to finish me off, I felt myself slipping away as I’d done earlier that afternoon. I tried desperately to fight it, unwilling to go on with this nightmare and wishing only for a quick death, but it was useless.

  There was a rushing sensation, experienced more as a mental shift than an actual kinetic movement, then there was wind in my hair. Despite my resistance, I burst free of the physical world and heard the monster’s hateful frustrated scream receding in the distance.

  Then I was gone.

  Time went away for a while, and like before, I experienced a feeling of being protected and at peace. Again, there was the awareness of that benign, shining light that radiated terrible power, and in its glow, I understood that my desire for oblivion hadn’t been my own, but was the malignant influence of the alien thing that had staked a claim in my world. For an unknowable passage of time, I floated in nothingness, grateful for the brief respite from the horror movie my life had become.

  I abruptly found myself sitting on the hillside overlooking the high school.

  It was still dark, and there was a small camp fire burning to my left. I was in the same place we’d spent so many good times over the years, knocking back beers, smoking joints and having drunken singalongs to something played on Sam’s portable stereo that accompanied us just about anywhere we went, almost like a fifth member of our group.

  How many times had we sat there on crisp autumn nights, pointing out satellites and shooting stars? How many times had Griff put on his science head on those occasions and explained the physics of the cosmos to us in that easy, drawling voice of his? I remembered him telling us how most of the stars we could see were actually suns that had died and grown cold long ago, and weren’t even really there. The vastness of space just meant that we could still see their brightness travelling light years through the darkness, even though that brightness no longer truly existed. That had been a head fuck, that one.

  “Dude, remember that night last summer when we were up here?” Sam asked me. “Cairnsey’d seen that documentary about Indian Fakirs and we decided to have a bash at firewalking?”

  I laughed at the memory.

  There was nothing strange about Sam suddenly sitting there with me. It seemed so natural.

  “That was funny as fuck,” I said, smiling. “Your trainers went up in a blue light and you were running about in circles screaming while the rest of us were rolling about laughing at you. It was tremendous.”

  “Aye, uncaring bastards.”

  We sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a moment.

  “Sorry about your dad, Phil. He was a good guy,” Sam said.

  I nodded. “He saved me again tonight,” I replied. “That freaky motherfucker would’ve taken my face off if he hadn’t tackled it. That’s twice he’s saved my life, and what did I do tonight when he needed me? Fuckin’ shat it. Fell down the stairs like a fanny.”

  “He was already gone, mate,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t have done anything but get yourself ripped up for arse paper, and you know it.”

  I nodded reluctantly. I knew it was true, but I also knew that guilt doesn’t just vanish in the face of logic.

  “Sam, that thing in the house…” I paused. “Was it Griff?”

  “Griff’s gone, Phil. You saw him in the cave earlier.”

  “And you?”

  He smiled and gave me a look.

  “What do you think, ya daft bastard? I’m sitting here talking to you, aren’t I?”

  “But this isn't real, Sammy. This is a dream,” I said.

  He shrugged in that Sam way that said do I look like someone who cares? “Remember what Griff said about the stars?” he said.

  I guessed that made some sort of fucked up sense.

  We sat quietly for a moment. The sun was slowly rising away in the east, painting the dawn sky in a mellow mixture of orange and early morning blue. A few stars were still out, hanging around like revellers reluctant to go home after an all night party thrown by the fading moon, which was just about crashed out.

  “So what happens next then?” I asked my dead friend.

  He looked at me sadly.

  “Carnage, I’m afraid,” he said simply. “Have you figured out what’s going on yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “I went and saw Griff yesterday,” I said. “He’s fucked up big time. His teeth, and his eyes… He told me what happened down in the caves back in May, and then said he was going to get out and kill a bunch of folks, me included. He knew James was coming home as well.”

  Sam didn’t say anything.

  “Barnsey never spoke to Cairnsey that night,” I added.

  “I know.”

  “So who the fuck was that on the phone, then?”

  “Ozay.”

  “And who exactly is this cunt Ozay?” I asked.

  “A daemon,” Sam said, as if I’d asked how many sides a square has.

  “Right.” That also made sense I supposed. It was a stupid question really. “So that was Ozay back at my place?”

  “No, dude. That big bastard just works for him.”

  Interesting. I thought about that for a moment.

  The sun was up now, and I could feel a light breeze on my skin. Sam put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Time to go I’m afraid, dude. You’re starting to wake up,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you later, eh?”

  I nodded sadly. I didn’t want the peaceful interlude to end. I knew that upon waking, I’d be right back in the middle of a nightmare.

  “One more question, Sam,” I said. “How come you’re out here? Cairnsey said you guys were stuck in the caves.”

  Sam nodded slowly.

  “We are stuck in the caves, Phil. Griff too now. But like Cairnsey said, we’re in there and out here,” he said, motioning at our surroundings. He moved closer and gently placed a hand on my chest above my heart. It was warm and real. “And we’re in here. I don’t know much more than you about what’s going on, mate. It’s bad where we are. Dark. We don’t see much. Only thing I can tell you is that it’s going to get bloody around here today. Just keep your eyes open, your chin up, and try not to be a little bitch about it, alright?”

  I smiled. Even as a ghost, he was a cheeky bastard.

  “Keep moving Phil,” he said. “Get away from here and just keep moving.

  See you later, mate.”

  And with that he was gone.

  I felt a deep sense of loneliness as I found myself alone again, but in this strange version of reality, there was no real sorrow.

  I lay back on the grass and closed my eyes.

  Chapter 36

  Morning dew seeping through the back of my t shirt woke me.

  I sat up, not surprised to find myself still sitting on the hillside. The fire was out, but I could feel heat radiating from the small circle of stones in which it’d been built. A thin wisp of smoke still rose from the ashes, and the grass next to me was flattened down as if someone had been sitting there.

  I broke down then.

  All the fear and grief; it all just came pouring out in long ragged sobs and a river of salty bitter tears. I wept for my father, Sam, Cairnsey, Griff, myself, even James I guess. It was for all the madness and death, and for the thought of what I knew was still to come.

  Carnage, Sam had said.

  So I just lay there for a while, letting out the hurt. I wasn’t absorbed in trying to figure out what to do next. I just needed to get my grieving out of the way before it ate me alive. I needed the catharsis.

  By the time I stopped, my face and sides were stretched and sore, but I felt better. As well as I could under the circumstances anyway.

  I forced myself up and shivered in the cold morning air. I ret
rieved a few dry sticks of wood from the fuel dump we had always kept wrapped in plastic bags and sheltered in the hollowed trunk of a nearby tree. The menial task of preparing a fire soothed my nerves and once I had it going, its warmth and light gave me a small measure of comfort. I sat there staring into the flames, welcoming the heat in my chilled bones and considering my options.

  Keep moving Phil. Get away from here and just keep moving.

  When he’d still been alive, Sam had been the person I’d trusted the most in the world, and even though he was now dead, I couldn’t see any other course of action that made any sense.

  That thing back at my house wanted me. My dad had said it, and I’d felt it myself. Its hunger and need had been a palpable force. I was being hunted by a being I couldn’t even begin to understand.

  To try and figure the whole thing out, I needed to go into hiding. I needed to leave the area, and get as far away as possible. To do that though, I needed help as I’d no means of transportation, no money, and not even so much as a change of clothes.

  I briefly considered Maria, Sam’s mum, but quickly discarded the idea. Despite the fact that I’d killed her only son, she’d come to my house three times a week to see me after I’d left the hospital, and she’d comforted me at my lowest ebb when she found me crying like a baby in the graveyard at Sam and Cairnsey’s funeral. I couldn’t ask anymore of her. She’d done enough for me since I was five years old to last several lifetimes, and had been through enough herself without me showing up at her door babbling about daemons killing my family and visits from her deceased son. I would leave her and Sam’s dad Alan, out of this.