Tribulation r-2

by Philip W Simpson

  Sam was still formulating a plan when return fire echoed from nearby. The man on the catwalk undulated under a barrage of bullets, screaming. He slumped against the railing and plunged to the floor, landing with an ominous thud.

  Somewhat mystified, Sam glanced in the direction of the return fire. A young African-American woman — if Sam had to guess, he would’ve said she was in her teens but it was hard to tell under all the accumulated grime — was holding another machine gun in her hand. She looked shocked but determined, staring with grim intent at the place where the man on the catwalk had just been. Sam could see that her finger was still pressed against the trigger but no more bullets emerged. The magazine was empty.

  Slowly so as to not startle her, Sam moved towards her. With gentle hands, he put weight on the barrel of the gun, lowering it so it pointed at the floor. Suddenly, she became aware of him.

  “I killed him,” she stammered. “I had to kill him. He was like all the rest. He deserved to die.”

  Sam nodded, trying to kill her calm. “Yes,” he said. “They all deserved to die for what they did.”

  She nodded back vigorously and then looked down at what she was holding in her hands. Her expression changed to one of confusion as if unsure how she came to be holding the gun. It seemed she had just reacted when the opportunity to avenge herself against her captives had arisen. The cage was already open. All she’d had to do was pick up a discarded weapon near a burning corpse, point and shoot. It was almost instinctive.

  Sam knew the effects of shock when he saw it. It was important to distract her, keep her busy and not dwell on the horrible reality of what had gone on here. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Olivia,” came the weak response.

  “Well, Olivia. I want you to help me here. In fact, I need your help. I want you to help me organize the others. We have to put these fires out, and then I want you to take a couple of the more able and find all the weapons, food and water you can get your hands on. Do you think you can do that?”

  Olivia nodded ever so slightly.

  “Good,” said Sam. “Come with me.”

  Concerned about the impression and effect Yeth would have on these already traumatized survivors, Sam turned back to Yeth, but the demon was one step ahead of him. Conscious of his master’s will, Yeth was already on the way out. Trailing sparks and fire, Yeth departed, heading through the still burning remains of the wall it had smashed through. Soon enough, he would find a desecrated church he could use to return to Hell. Given what he knew about the growing nature of their relationship, Sam felt sorry for any demon that got in Yeth’s way.

  Sam guided Olivia towards the cage. Not nearly so brave as the girl, the other survivors were only now moving hesitantly towards the bars. Sam was suddenly aware that his hood was down; anyone perceptive could easily see the horns jutting out of the messy black locks. Thankfully, Olivia wasn’t really that aware of what was going on and hadn’t noticed. He put his hood back up quickly, breathing a prayer of thanks that no one in the cage had spotted them. It would make his job of rescuing these people basically impossible if they knew he was a demon, even partly.

  There were a good dozen people inside the cage, mostly young. That kind of made sense to Sam. Most survivors he found these days were young, possibly because they were fitter and stronger than older people. And possibly because they only had themselves to worry about. Sam very rarely saw parents with youngish children. Family groups like that were mostly long gone now, either taken to Hell, converted to worship of Satan or preyed upon by their fellow humans. The youngest children — those completely innocent — had been taken with the Rapture. Children over a certain age, usually around five, were often left behind if they were non-believers. Escaping pursuit whilst caring for young children was basically impossible. And as for feeding them, well, a young person alone only had one mouth to feed.

  A little over half were female and there seemed to be a variety of ethnicities, although it was hard to be exact given they all seemed to be covered in filth. Without exception, despair filled their eyes. Even now, with salvation at hand, they seemed listless and defeated as if the will to live had deserted them. Sam couldn’t blame them. He had some idea of what they’d been through and they didn’t have his resources to draw upon. Some of them displayed tell-tale signs of disease — especially the bubonic plague which seemed to be the most prevalent out of all the diseases at the moment. A few had more advanced signs of it: their hands, especially fingers, were turning black. Sam would have to get them urgent treatment when he got them to safety. Left untreated, the disease was almost always fatal within three to five days.

  He took a breath and began to speak, conscious that time was once again against him. It was only a matter of time before other demons came to investigate what was going on here. Sam was also under no illusions that one or more of the demon worshippers had escaped and raised the alarm.

  “I want you all to listen to me. Your lives depend on doing exactly what I say. At present, you are free and alive. Try to stay that way. I want you and you and you,” he said, stabbing fingers randomly at some of the less feeble looking survivors, “to go with Olivia and find whatever food and water you can find. Get some bags or backpacks to store it in.” Sam had given up the thought of putting out the fires. They were spreading and would soon be uncontrollable. They simply did not have time. He had to prioritize. He was also having second thoughts about putting Olivia in charge. The look in her eye told him everything he needed to know. At present, she wasn’t capable of anything much.

  “You three,” he said, pointing at two sturdier men and a woman, “come with me. We’re going to find as many weapons as we can carry. The rest of you, get yourselves ready to travel. We’ll be leaving in five minutes.” That was all the remainder was capable of from the look of them. Some of them were so weak and malnourished, they were struggling to stand.

  Sam was suddenly conscious of the fact that it was the longest speech he’d ever made. It was good to be speaking to people again, even under such dire circumstances.

  To her credit, Olivia took her crew and immediately had them spread out to check every area in the warehouse. Sam knew that while the demon worshippers survived mostly by eating other humans, they must have a backup supply of tinned or powdered food hidden somewhere.

  Gathering his three recruits, he instructed them as to his requirements. They were to look for any weapons that appeared functional. Some of the rifles and shotguns caught in the direct blast of Yeth’s breath were partially melted and useless. The others might lack ammunition. Ammunition was key. Without it, the guns were just so much dead weight, and dead weight was the last thing Sam needed when some of these people were struggling to hold up their own bodies. And they’d have to move fast. If Sam was going to get them where he intended, he couldn’t delay.

  To Sam’s concern it was more like ten minutes before Olivia and the others returned. The fires were spreading, filling the building with harsh smoke. Some of the weaker prisoners were already on their knees, coughing. But it was worth the wait. Between them, they carried several backpacks, stuffed with supplies. Sam shared the packs out amongst the more robust members of the group. For his part, Sam and the others had found four useable rifles, three shotguns and one pistol. All the guns had ammunition, just not a great deal of it. He distributed the guns according to who was willing and capable. Those who hadn’t been given a task had more of less got themselves ready and assembled outside the dreaded cage. Finally, he addressed them once more.

  “Good work. But that was the easy part. When, we leave, expect demons. They will be attracted by the fire and the misery and death they can sense inside. Those with weapons, choose your targets carefully — ammo is limited.” He surveyed the group one last time. They didn’t look like much but they were in far better shape now than they had been a few minutes earlier. At least now, they were free.

  “Right, let’s go.”

  Going out the same
way as Yeth was impossible. Almost that entire wall was now on fire. Sam had no choice but to lead them out the main doors. He knew it was risky but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He gathered them together as a tightly knit pack, stressing the importance of staying together. As they moved, Sam positioned those with the weapons on the outside of the pack. Those who were weaker and unarmed were clustered in the middle.

  They exited the main doors without incident. There were many mounds of ash nearby and Sam silently thanked Yeth. His Hellhound must have taken care of these demons waiting in ambush.

  Sam moved as swiftly as he could, assisting where he could to hurry the weakest along. Behind them, the warehouse, what had once been a place devoted to the worship of his father, blazed like a beacon in the night sky. Yeth might have taken care of a few demons but others would come.

  He followed a trail that he’d plotted out earlier, one that involved the least amount of exposure. He looked up, always conscious of the threat of flying demons. The sky was lightening in the east, filling Sam with relief. Dawn was on its way.

  He’d timed this carefully, making some rather rough assumptions about how long he’d need in the warehouse. He’d got it almost right. Disappearing through the desecrated churches that acted as their gateways, Demons went back to Hell during the day. Just in time for Sam and the other survivors to make their escape. It would’ve been easier in the day for him to attack the warehouse, but Sam himself was weaker during the day, and if he’d been a bit slower, a bit weaker… he hated to think.

  He led them down an alleyway. A few more turns and they’d be back at the clothing store where his own pack awaited him. It was a good place to rest too. Safe. Or as safe as safe could be these days. Even though he could sense that some demons were already returning to Hell, others were still lurking. Hunting them. He just had to hold out for a few more minutes.

  Sam got to the end of the alley and turned to make sure the others were behind him. It almost got him killed. Distracted, Sam had failed to properly notice the dark shadow above him. As he exited the alley and turned, the shadow plummeted directly for him, four darker lines of black extended in front of it. At the last second, Sam sensed its approach and knew he’d made a mistake. This one was finally going to kill him. He brought his swords out in a blur but knew it was probably pointless. A two thousand pound Astaroth descending like this with all its weapons beaded on Sam was way too much inertia to cope with. He couldn’t block that. There was no way Sam could retreat either, not with the other survivors blocking his way. He set his teeth and locked his swords out in front of him. For the second time that night, he resigned himself to go down fighting.

  Once again, he was destined to be disappointed. The Astaroth was almost upon him when the roar of nearby guns almost deafened him. Four rifles, three shotguns and a pistol opened up, more or less at the same time. Directly at the Astaroth. It didn’t even have time to vent its rage. One second it was a massive shadow hurtling down at Sam, the next, he was being showered by the creature’s remains as they fluttered down upon him.

  He turned and made eye contact with the survivors, especially the eight holding smoking weapons. He nodded his thanks. Words were unnecessary. They were even now. Perhaps he’d misjudged these people’s will to live after all.

  He looked up in the sky again. Dawn had come and with it the dull gray light which was what approximated daylight these days. The sun hadn’t been seen on Earth for three and a half years now, hidden as it was behind the thick angry blanket of cloud that was a constant during daylight hours.

  More importantly, it marked an important change. The demons were gone. They’d made it.

  He led the survivors back to the clothing store. They were safe. For one more day at any rate.

  Chapter Ten

  State Highway 71

  “ If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!”

  Ecclesiastes: 10

  He let the survivors sleep for a few hours. They obviously needed it and most, including Olivia, appeared to be suffering physically and mentally from their ordeal. Understandably. Sam himself didn’t rest. He didn’t feel the need and besides, he was too worked up after their successful escape to rest. Instead, he paced around for a bit, restless, unable to stand still for a second. Like a cat on a hot tin roof. Sam smiled to himself. That had been one of Hikari’s expressions. For a moment, the thought of the diminutive Japanese man uttering those words made Sam feel inexplicably happy.

  The moment passed. Sam’s mind returned to more pressing matters. Like getting these survivors to safety. And safety, unfortunately, was over fifty miles away In Columbus. The Ohio Army National guard station there was the only military base that Sam had found still operational. How they had survived, Sam didn’t know, but the fact that they had gave him hope. Where one could survive, others could too.

  Sam wasn’t completely unprepared. He’d planned for this eventuality, hoping that his goal to free these survivors would be successful. It was a rough plan though and not something that would withstand a great deal of unanticipated problems. If something went wrong, he really didn’t have a backup. Much like his assault on the demon worshippers. But this time, he wouldn’t have Yeth to help him.

  Eager to do something other than pace, Sam started to prepare food. It was almost midday. He’d have to wake the others shortly and no doubt they would be hungry.

  He swept the ash off the main counter and set up his camping stove. The gas canister was, thankfully, full. Sam had found a ransacked camping store a few days earlier. While mostly cleaned out of useful items, it was well stocked with portable cookers and gas.

  The can opener on his Swiss Army knife came in useful as always. Sam enjoyed using it, not having to concern himself with touching the metal. Unlike iron, the steel knife had no harmful effect on him. He selected a few tins from the bags and poured them into a large pot he’d found at a hardware store. It had been filthy, covered in ash but Sam had done his best to clean it. A difficult task without water but he really didn’t think the others would care.

  The tins contained a mixture of beans and spaghetti. There was even a tin of meatballs which was a rare treat. The demon worshippers had been well stocked — unsurprisingly, given that they would’ve taken the food of all those they preyed upon.

  The delicious smell of hot food wafted throughout the store, almost overpowering the lingering stench of sulfur. One by one, the survivors, roused by the smell of probably the first hot meal they’d had in ages, shuffled over to the counter. Sam handed each one a disposable plastic plate and a spoon and ladled out a generous helping to each one.

  Sam watched each one with interest, though careful not to make eye contact. Even in the dim light, his distinctive black irises could possibly give the game away. In order to get these people to safety, he needed them to trust him. If they got one whiff of his true nature, then that trust could disintegrate more quickly than a demon turning to ash.

  His earlier assessment had been roughly accurate. There were twelve of them all told, ranging in age from probably sixteen up to mid-twenties. Eight of them were female. One of the men and three women were African-American. Two women were of Asian descent and one of the men looked Hispanic although Sam couldn’t be sure. His experience in these matters was fairly limited. All were thin, emaciated; a pretty sorry looking bunch.

  As they collected their food, each found a spot and sat down to eat. None of them made an effort to communicate or interact with the others. Sam couldn’t blame them. Chances were they’d been cooped up the others for days, if not weeks. They were probably heartily sick of the sight of one another. Some of them did thank him for the food, however, their faces struggling to make smiles, long unaccustomed to such expressions.

  Olivia was last. Sam thought this was deliberate. She was somewhat stronger looking than the others and allowed them to go before her. She paused and looked at Sam after he’d filled her plate
.

  “Why?” she asked quietly.

  “Why what?” he replied, not meeting her eye.

  “Why did you save us?” Her gaze took in the others. “What’s in it for you? What could you possibly want with us?”

  “Nothing,” said Sam. “I want nothing.”

  The expression on Olivia’s face displayed various emotions: disbelief, scorn, anger. Sam watched carefully from out of the corner of his eye and could see her struggling with this concept.

  “Garbage,” she spluttered. “No one does things like that unless they want something. What do you want?”

  Sam felt suddenly quite tired. Humanity never ceased to amaze him. He’d just risked his life for this woman and did he get thanks? No. Just suspicion. Though at least that was better than downright hatred which is what he’d probably get if his true nature were revealed.

  “Believe what you will, but I want to help you. I’ll get you to safety and then leave you alone. Is that ok with you?” He could hear sarcasm creeping into his voice but he couldn’t help it. This woman was pushing his buttons.

  Olivia ran one grubby hand through her cropped hair, displacing the ash that had taken up residence. Some of it fluttered down into her plate of steaming food, not that she seemed to notice or care. It looked like she’d or someone else had hacked at her hair with a knife. Her eyes darted left and right as she tried to assimilate this notion. Finally, she attempted to make eye contact with Sam again. He looked down, seemingly intent on stirring the food.

  He could tell she wanted to say something else but clearly thought better of it. Muttering something under her breath, she went and slumped down in a corner, eating hurriedly but keeping a cautious eye on Sam. Sam decided to ignore her. He didn’t care. As soon as he’d delivered them to the Ohio Army National guard base, he’d wash his hands of them. Not for the first time, he was getting sick of being treated like this — and this was before they discovered he was half demon.