Tribulation r-2

by Philip W Simpson

  “Give us a hand, would you?”

  Sam shook his head and made no move to help. “I’d rather I didn’t.” Travis had planned his route out carefully. He must have calculated on lifting the plate himself in the event that Sam was not able to help. He was probably just being lazy. Perhaps it was some kind of test? Regardless, Sam wasn’t going to play games.

  Muttering to himself and shooting Sam a scathing look, Travis finally managed to wrangle the plate out of the way. Underneath was a grill, also made of iron. This one was locked with another padlock. Travis produced another key and swiftly unlocked it and moved this grill aside. Sam was impressed. No wonder no demons had gotten in this way. He understood now why no guard needed to be posted at this access point. Even in desperation, Sam couldn’t have gotten through such a secure grill.

  On his knees, Travis poked his head through the hole, waving his candle away. Satisfied, he nodded to Sam and disappeared. Sam moved over and peered down it. The hole was a perfectly formed concrete tunnel leading down — presumably and judging from the smell — to the sewers about twenty feet below. Metal rungs were set in the concrete walls at regular intervals. Already, the candle light revealed Travis was almost half way down. Sam was about to follow when he sensed it. The rungs were made of iron. Typical. He could do this the hard way or the easy way.

  He decided that his body had suffered enough lately. He’d do it the easy way.

  Waiting for Travis to descend seemed to take an eternity. When he got to the bottom, Travis looked up expectantly at Sam. Sam waved him aside. “Get out of the way,” he hissed.

  Travis appeared momentarily confused and then, when he realized Sam’s intent, hurriedly moved aside. Sam put his hands straight down his sides. He gave a tiny sideways leap and then plummeted down the hole, missing the rungs by the narrowest of margins. He splashed down in a foot of water, legs spread and bent to dissipate the impact.

  Travis looked at him for a moment and shook his head. Sam heard him say ‘Show off’ under his breath before the other man turned, leading Sam down the sewerage tunnel. Travis was clearly making an effort to be silent even though it was difficult in the water. Even if he had been dispossessed of his demonic senses, this would’ve told Sam one important piece of information. There were other people around. He could sense them and Travis knew they were there too. This, then, was obviously not the only access point from the Police museum to the sewers.

  There was no-one else in close proximity but Sam had no idea how Travis knew this. He was being quiet as a precaution but he made no move to extinguish his candle. Sam followed, a soundless, hulking shadow at the other man’s back.

  As he moved, he noticed the water. It wasn’t red which meant it was fresh and not salt water. And it was still here, proving that New York somehow had a fresh water supply. No wonder so many people were able to survive here.

  Ahead of him, Travis took several turns. Some of the tunnels were so low that Sam had to stoop. They saw no-one else. No humans. No demons. Sometimes Sam could sense both. The demons from above and humans both above and on the same level as he and Travis. The only other creatures they saw were rats and cockroaches — thousands of them.

  Sam estimated they’d been moving for about forty minutes when Travis brought them to a stop. On the wall next to him were more rungs leading up to an iron manhole cover about ten feet above their heads. Travis swiftly moved up the rungs. At the top, he edged the cover across and peeked out warily. Satisfied by what he saw, he moved the cover all the way across and hauled himself out, motioning Sam to follow.

  Sam sighed. More iron. Always iron.

  He tore some strips off his jeans. They were already in tatters anyway from their mistreatment at the hands of the Lemure so he figured it hardly mattered. He ripped more material away until they were basically long shorts, and used it to wrap his hands, careful to ensure that not one scrap of his skin was exposed.

  That done, he ascended, slowly at first, wincing in advance at the expected pain. When none came, he grew more confident and raced up the rungs. He literally flew up out of the manhole, his attitude being that if he was going to make contact with the cover, it would be best to get it over and done with quickly. Fortunately he avoided it, landing next to Travis.

  He looked around and found himself in what had once, by the looks of it, been a park. Now it was littered by blackened tree stumps, a desolate and barren wasteland, almost identical to Liberty state park that he’d seen earlier, now just over the water.

  “Battery Park,” said Travis, appearing to read his mind. “Would’ve taken you through the Brooklyn battery tunnel but its blocked now. The Resistance thought it was a good idea. Thought they might stop the flow of demons. They were wrong, dude, so wrong.” Travis inclined his head. “This way. Got a surprise for you.”

  Warily, Sam following as Travis led him along one of the paths that weaved through the once park. Something about this situation didn’t seem right. It was somehow a bit off. Then he saw it. On a clear space that had once been trees and grass, a helicopter rested, its rotors already spinning. As they got nearer, Sam could hear the wine of its motor increasing in pitch. It was readying itself to take off.

  “You’d better hurry,” said Travis. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Who?” asked Sam, mystified.

  Travis smiled and shrugged helplessly. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself, dude,” he said. “I’ll leave you here. Go on, get in the helicopter.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “What has this got to do with you?”

  “You’re gonna find out soon enough,” he said. And then he shrugged. “What does it matter?” He turned around and lifted up the long blond hair on the back of his neck. There was a tattoo there. The Mark of the Beast. Travis was in league with the Satan worshippers in the city.

  He turned back to Sam and winked. “Handy little mark,” he said. “Gets you all sorts of things in this city.”

  Sam turned away from him, disgusted. Suddenly, a man dressed in fatigues with insignia that Sam could only interpret as belonging to some European nation got out of the back of the helicopter and opened the rear door, clearly waiting for Sam to get in. Reluctantly, Sam did so. As soon as he was in, the door slammed shut and the chopper lifted off. Despite the situation, Sam was thrilled. He’d never been in any sort of flying craft before. The closest he’d got to flying was when an Astaroth had picked him up once. That wasn’t fun. This was.

  He’d never had an opportunity to fly before the Rapture, his life being one long training session. After — well — after the Rapture, flying became a risky business. Clearly, volcanoes continued to erupt all over the world, pumping tons of ash into the atmosphere — ash that wasn’t about to go away anytime soon. Any flying craft with an air intake ran the risk of choking and becoming blocked by ash. Once that happened, the plane or helicopter would fall out of the sky. Not only that, but the constant fire storms were an occupational hazard for any would-be pilot. Sam couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d seen anything fly — including birds. They’d been some jets and helicopters at the Beightler Armory but every time he’d seen them, they were always being swarmed over by engineers and technicians, trying to sort out glitches and problems. He’d spoken to one of the engineers and been told that navigation was a huge problem too. The same atmospheric interference that was interrupting communications also played havoc with radar. Nowadays, the skies belonged to the demons.

  Not today, though, it seemed. Sam felt a trifle giddy as the helicopter lifted several hundred feet in the air, giving Sam his first real look at New York. There still wasn’t much to see: a few buildings with lights and some fires that had all but burnt out. It wasn’t clear who was responsible for what. Presumably the invasion forces had powered up the buildings — Sam couldn’t imagine for a second that the Resistance would advertise their presence like that. As for the fires — that could be the work of either side, trying to burn the
other out.

  The helicopter suddenly banked sharply to the south, heading towards Brooklyn. It was a quick flight. The helicopter flew over Governor’s Island which was as barren and desolate as every other park he’d seen. It dipped slightly again and suddenly they were flying over docks covered with gantry cranes. The docks weren’t empty though. Almost everyone seemed to contain a ship. Not just any ship though — warships. Here was the invasion fleet.

  The helicopter came into land, touching down on the helicopter platform of the largest ship. Sam was no expert but his education had touched on all military aspects. He was pretty sure this behemoth was at least a Cruiser, possibly a Battlecruiser. The ships flanking it were probably Destroyers. Whoever Sam was been taken to see, ranked highly in the invasion fleet’s hierarchy. Sam suspected he knew who.

  As soon as the helicopter was down properly, the door was yanked over. Four armed soldiers dressed in uniforms identical to soldier earlier waited for him. The one in front gestured for Sam to exit the helicopter and follow him. Sam obeyed, curious as to where this was leading. The three other soldiers fell in behind him.

  The soldier in front led him through the ship, twisting and turning through a maze of grey corridors. They encountered several other soldiers during the journey, all eyeing Sam with interest as he passed. Sam tried to ignore their stares.

  They came to a bulkhead door and he was led through. Inside was a spacious office. Judging from cabinets filled with models and memorabilia, it had once belonged to the Captain or Admiral. No longer. Behind a desk, sat someone Sam had not expected. He had been almost certain that he was being taken to see his brother. He was wrong. It was Sam’s former friend.

  Joshua.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Joshua

  “ You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desire. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.”

  John 8:44

  Thank you, Captain,” said Joshua, nodding at the soldier in front of Sam. “That will be all. I’ll call if I need you.”

  The Captain appeared uncertain for a moment but eventually saluted and led his men out of the room, closing the door behind them.

  Joshua indicated the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat, Sam. We have much to discuss.”

  Warily, Sam did as he was bid, somewhat confused by all this. Where was his brother, the Antichrist?

  “You probably have a few questions,” said Joshua. Sam said nothing at first, content to use the time to examine his former buddy. Joshua had changed greatly since they’d first met and had aged considerably even since their relatively recent encounter in Hell. Joshua now looked at least thirty although they were the same age. He’d always been a big man but now he appeared to be a little overfed — a bad sign when most people on Earth were starving. His curly blond locks were now streaked with grey.

  “Why am I here?” Sam asked. “Why go to the trouble?”

  Joshua smiled easily. Gone was the tense and insecure teenager. Here was a man grown confident in his abilities. “Because I need you. Just like you need me. We can help each other, you and I.”

  “Help each other, how?” asked Sam.

  “You made a promise to me once, I recall. A promise to do my bidding when I asked in exchange for a certain reunion.”

  Sam’s breath caught in his throat. He remembered. His mother. Joshua had promised to reunite him with his mother. “What do you want me to do?” Sam said. He had no intention to do whatever his former friend wanted but he’d play along until he learnt more about his mother. This was potentially his chance to find her.

  “All in good time.” Joshua stood and moved over to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself some amber fluid from a crystal decanter. “Would you like one?” he asked, gesturing at his glass. Sam shook his head. “Back in Utah, I didn’t drink, obviously,” he continued, walking back behind his desk and settling himself back in his leather chair. “Things have changed. For the better, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Sam gave Joshua a ghost of a smile, humoring him. “Why did you do it, Josh? Why did you betray me?”

  There — he finally said it. The question had been plaguing him for years. He’d never had the opportunity to ask before but it had been something he’d gone over in his head countless times.

  “Why I sided with your brother and your father, you mean?”

  Sam nodded. He’d thought the question was obvious.

  “I knew you’d ask this eventually. I imagined this conversation in my head, wondering what I might say. I confess that I’m tempted not to tell you, but it’s kinda pointless now. What do you remember about me, back in Jacob’s Ladder?”

  “I remember that you played quarterback on the High school football team. You were the nephew of Father Rainey. You were also my friend — were being the key word here.”

  Joshua grinned, his fleshy checks glistening unhealthily. “Quite right. What do you remember about my uncle?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not much. He was the local priest. Can’t say I liked him that much. He was the one that made me walk through hallowed ground for the first time. I don’t think he approved of what I was. Let’s just say there wasn’t much love lost between us.”

  “Sounds familiar,” said Josh.

  “What do you mean?” asked Sam, intrigued despite himself.

  Josh stood and began pacing behind his desk. “Father Rainey wasn’t a particularly forgiving man. Or a very nice one for that matter. After my parents died, he took me in but I think he resented having to look after me. Made me read the bible every night and beat me when I didn’t. No-one ever knew that. Called me a godless fool because my parents hadn’t believed. Used to tease me and say that my parents were in Hell. Hardly spoke to me other than that. One of the reasons I joined the football team was to get out of the house.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” asked Sam.

  “I want you to understand,” said Joshua, “understand that you and I are alike.”

  “We are nothing alike,” sneered Sam.

  “I beg to differ. We both lost our parents. We both were tormented by others because of who we were. I think you and I are kindred spirits.”

  “So why betray me?”

  “Your brother came to me and explained everything. Suddenly, I knew who I was and knew what I had to do. He said that you belonged in Hell with your family. It made sense to me. You are part demon after all. He said that my parents were there too and if I helped him, I could see them again. In hindsight, he oversold Hell a little but that doesn’t matter now. He was very…persuasive.”

  “But you sold out the rest of humanity, too.”

  “I would argue that. I think humanity is weak. If the rest of the population had been through what I’ve been through, it would’ve straightened them out. You can get used to Hell after a while. I did and it taught me a great deal. Powers I thought I would never possess. Never again will I have to do the bidding of another human. What’s more, my parents were granted certain concessions. They may still be in Hell, but they certainly aren’t suffering. I made sure of that. “Do you know who I am now?” he asked.

  “Joshua,” replied Sam.

  Joshua laughed. “Certainly. That was the boy I was. Not the man I am today. I am something altogether different today. Thanks to my time in Hell. Tell me, what do you know about the False Prophet?”

  “Of course,” said Sam, understanding starting to dawn on him.

  “Well, it’s a bit of a misnomer really. I don’t think ‘false’ is the right word, really. Just ‘Prophet’ sounds about right. That’s what everyone around here calls me, anyway.”

  “So, you’re the False Prophet then?” asked Sam.

  It wasn’t really a question. He’d kind of suspected that Joshua still had a part to play in all this when they’d encountered each other in Hell. Joshua
clearly had not been idle during the years he was trapped there — amassing power, preparing for his return to Earth. The Prophet was a logical choice, a spiritual leader recruited by the Antichrist as his partner in crime. Supposedly able to perform miracles. Well, Sam reflected — it seemed like he’d performed a few already. Being able to spirit Sam away from the Resistance was nothing short of miraculous.

  Joshua’s face tightened at the word false. Sam stored this information away for future use. It would not be hard to antagonize his old friend.

  “I am the Prophet, yes. Appointed by your own brother as reward for my earlier service. My powers too, have grown with my new status. Enough to fool those idiots in Europe in any case. The rumors are that I can perform miracles — some might call it magic. Watch this!” He gestured with one hand, a circular motion. Suddenly, his drinks glass — half empty — was suddenly full again. Joshua laughed gleefully. “Believe me, that’s the least of what I can do.”

  “Very impressive,” sneered Sam. “Still doesn’t tell me why you brought me here.”

  Joshua inclined his head. “I want you to do something for me. Something you probably wouldn’t have done in any case. I’m just giving you a little more incentive.”

  “What?” demanded Sam impatiently. Joshua seemed to have developed some dramatic notions. Would he ever just get to the point?

  “Kill your brother, of course. Properly this time. And then disappear and stay out of my way. That’s the crucial bit — I don’t want you hanging around, interfering and basically making a nuisance of yourself. You’ll find him in the Chrysler building, around the 32nd floor. There’s a platform with eagles instead of gargoyles — I’m surprised he hasn’t changed them. The room he uses as an office is adjacent to that and an airborne assault is the only one that will work. The base of the building is surrounded by hundreds of Horned demons. In exchange, I’ll free your mother from Hell.”