Demon Hunters

by JKMelby74

  “Not to me. The world is still turning and it will continue turning for centuries to come. That’s my prediction. From the book of Larissa!”

  Chapter 52

  Me Against The World

  I wake up the next day with renewed fervor. I get out of bed and after a nice hot shower; I sit down at my computer ready to find my next job. I don’t care what poison people believe about me, in a rational world, reason always wins.

  I look across the room and out the window. The sky looks darker and the rain is coming down strong. I ignore it and set my mind back to the task at hand. As my homepage opens up, I’m blasted with all the headlines of the day. All of them pertain to me. I’m being called the Anti-Christ in South America and right here in the good old U.S., several right wing religious groups are organizing Larissa Corba effigies across the country. I click over to the job boards and concentrate on finding a job. I put my information into the search engines and submit it. Moments later, my screen fills with a list of jobs. I begin at the top and consider each one carefully. I would prefer a job that I can perform over the phone, now more than ever. I select the few that appeal to me and send them my resumes. I then go on to the next site and repeat the process. By ten o’clock, I am satisfied with the resumes I have sent out and decide it’s time to give my eyes a rest. I turn away from the computer and get up. My legs pinch and I realize just how long I’ve been sitting down. I trudge to the kitchen in hopes of finding some food. Just as I grab the handle to the fridge, my phone rings. I run to it. It’s too soon to hear back about one of my resumes, but you never know.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Larissa Corba?”

  “Speaking. Who is this?”

  “One of the millions out here you’re sending to an early grave!

  Thanks for nothing you selfish bitch!” The caller screams and then hangs up. I slam the phone down and go back to my task. The phone rings again. I debate whether I should answer it or not, but I decide to tempt fate. I grab the phone cautiously.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re damning us all to Hell! You should be ashamed of yourself! I hope you rot, you worthless whore!” The line goes dead. I set the phone down and turn away with the mounting worry that this is going to continue. The phone rings again, but I decide to let my voice mail take the abuse. I’m not going to get any peace here, so I get dressed and plan to head over to Mike’s place. I pull the door open and notice that someone has been kind enough to leave a rotting fish right in front of my door. I quickly run back in for a towel and scoop the fish up. I walk over to Mike’s door and knock. Moments later, it opens and he appears before me wearing some red and white striped boxers and a silk robe that hangs open giving me a good look at the whole show.

  “Good morning.” I say. He notices the fish in my hand.

  “Good morning. You didn’t have to bring me Breakfast.”

  “A gift, I guess.” I say as I walk in. I find his garbage can and drop the fish in.

  “Not such a great start today?”

  “Let’s see, the whole world thinks I’m evil incarnate. My phone is ringing off the hook with calls from people who want me dead and I find old Charlie there in front of my door making everyone’s lives better. What do you think?”

  “Sorry. It’ll blow over.”

  “I’m sure it will, but I just hope I survive until it does.”

  “You want some eggs?”

  “Love some. Thanks.” I sit down at his little kitchen table as he serves up a plate of scrambled eggs quickly. “I just didn’t think people would go hostile on me so quickly. I mean, it’s like I was just a normal person yesterday, now I’m the enemy of all humanity. Hating me is bringing other people together. I saw one story where the Ku Klux Klan and the Rainbow Coalition are planning to team up for a Kill Larissa Rally.”

  “Well, can you really blame them? We’re not talking about you standing in the way of a tax initiative or something like that. They think the world is going to end.”

  “They including you.”

  “I didn’t say that, but my point is this is pretty serious shit in anyone’s book. You had to have some idea people were going to react aggressively.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I still can barely believe this is happening. He just threw me to the wolves.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yes. When we talked, I at least got the impression he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I would never guess he would stoop to what he did. He just painted a damn bullseye right on my chest.”

  “Just keep a low profile.”

  “Until when? I was thinking about it and even if the end doesn’t come this Friday, people are still going to think it’s going to come soon. This is something I’m going to be branded with for the rest of my life.”

  “How about the job thing? How was that?”

  “Nice segue. Sent out some resumes, but good luck fishing any response I get from them out of all the hate messages that are undoubtedly filling up my voice mail as we speak.”

  “I know it seems hard now, but...” Mike begins. I throw my hand up quickly.

  “Let me spare you the time. I know it’s just going to get worse. There’s really only one way to stop this.”

  “You’d really go to your father now?”

  “I’m just saying that would be the only way to stop this. I didn’t say I was going to do it. Crawling back to him is definitely not an option.”

  After breakfast, Mike and I relax on his couch and channel surf. It turns into quite a struggle to find a station that isn’t talking about me and what I’ve done. We finally settle on the Nostalgia Channel and enjoy a daylong marathon of The Simpsons. It seems like the day is bleeding seamlessly into one block of time. Each hour blending into the next. I almost forget about the world outside as I feel Mike’s arms surround me. I feel my eyes growing heavy and I close my eyes.

  When I open my eyes again, the television is switched off and I’m alone on the couch. I sit up and hear a noise from the kitchen. I look over and see that Mike’s dressed and seems busily engaged with the stove.

  “Mike?”

  “Oh. You’re up.” He says with some surprise.

  “Was I asleep?”

  “For five hours straight.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “’Fraid not. Stress can do that to some people.” He says. I get up and feel disoriented. I swear I only closed my eyes for a second. “I’m making some tuna casserole, if you’re interested.”

  “Tuna casserole?”

  “It’s my best thing. I swear.”

  “I guess it sounds better than a big fat nothing back at my place. I feel a little grungy though. I’m going to pop over and change, okay?”

  “Sure. It won’t be ready for a few more minutes.”

  I walk out of Mike’s apartment and hurry down the hall to my door. I open it up and it’s dark. It all seems quiet. I don’t bother with the lights as I make my way to the bedroom. I notice a light flashing on the base of my phone. I check it and discover it’s indicating that my voice mail is now full. I consider it for a moment and decide to check the messages. Out of morbid curiosity if nothing else. I press down on the flashing light and the speaker comes to life with a voice. It goes through the usual preamble and finally we get down to business. The first message plays and just as I thought, it’s a death threat. I press another button to delete it and move on to the next message. Another angry message. I continue this pattern for about six more messages, in some faint hope that there just may be a legitimate call in there somewhere. I decide quickly that this is a losing battle, so I just press a button to clear the whole memory cache. I go on into my bedroom, my blood just a bit warmer now, and go through my closet for something to wear. I grab a white blouse and plan on pairing it with some blue jeans. I suddenly hear a creak behind me. I spin around but see nothing. I hurry over to my nightstand and flip on the lamp. Light floods the room quickly, but I see nothing. I quickly pull off my sh
irt and replace it with the blouse. I button up, and just as I slip the last button through the hole, another creak, but louder. I turn again, but see nothing. For as long as I’ve lived in this building, the floor has only creaked when I actually stepped on a loose floorboard.

  “Is there someone there?” I call out. Everything seems calm. I quickly decide the pants I’m already wearing are good enough. I switch the lamp off and dash out and for the door. I hear a chorus of noises, but I don’t bother to acknowledge them. As I grab for the door, I feel two hands take my shoulders. A force pulls me back and I fall to the floor. I feel a weight land on my back.

  “God damn bitch! I’m not going to let you kill everyone!” A raspy voice growls.

  “Who are you?” I feel panic rising in me. Whoever it is, he’s got my arms. I struggle against his grip, but it’s useless.

  “Just shut the Hell up! I’m gonna be a hero.” He says. It feels like he’s trying to tie my arms together with something. I begin to buck and struggle under his weight. I feel a sharp pain suddenly.

  “Stay still!” Another voice barks. A woman’s voice. “If you’re not going to do the right thing, we’re just going to have to make you!” I turn my head slightly and I’m able to see her. I know her.

  “Mrs. Bradley?” I ask in horror. I recognize her from all the times we passed in the laundry room downstairs. I realize that the weight pushing down on my spine is her husband, Mr. Bradley. I’m in shock. They’re both quite old. Both with gray hair and kindly smiles at the ready whenever we pass in the halls. They were always so sweet and nice in our brief exchanges, and here they are, ambushing me and attempting to deliver me to my father, I assume. Mr. Bradley is still struggling with my arms. No way I’m going to make it easy for him. All those Christmases when they brought me a plate of their homemade cookies be damned.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “We don’t want to die! Why do you have to be so selfish?” She asks.

  I finally pull one of my arms free and I quickly snag Mrs. Bradley’s ankle. The one she said they had operated on a year ago. With one good pull, I bring her down. Mr. Bradley is clearly distracted as his wife howls in pain as she hits the floor. I feel the pressure of his body ease and I take advantage. I push up with my hips and manage to toss him off of me. He tumbles over and I leap to my feet. I run to the wall and flip on the switch. I see them. Two frail senior citizens crumpled together on the floor. I watch as they clumsily gather themselves together and stand before me. They look at me with a mix of disdain and remorse. The anger I’m feeling is beyond words. My neck feels hot and the urge to run them both through with my boning knife is nearly irresistible.

  “Get out.” Is all I can manage. They look at me for a long moment without moving. “Get out!” I scream and as quickly as that, they both shamble over to the door and leave, closing the door behind them. No explanations. No apologies. I feel my legs weaken and I fall into the chair right behind me.

  I go back to Mike’s after making triple sure my door is locked and secure. I tell him all about my encounter with Mr. and Mrs. Bradley over dinner. He insists upon calling the police, but I refuse. For one, they’re an old couple and as angry as I am, I can’t in good faith have them locked up, and second, I don’t think the police will even come when they hear who’s calling. It’s becoming very clear to me that with one press conference, my father has turned the entire world against me on every conceivable level. There is no more justice for me.

  “Well, then I insist you stay here for the next few days. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. I think now that they know I’m not above beating the tar out of a couple of old people, they won’t be nosing around anymore.”

  “They won’t, but what if some other nutball breaks in? Someone younger? Stronger? Someone with a gun?”

  “Thanks for not scaring me, by the way.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is getting serious.”

  “I admit I did not foresee people trying to attack me in my own home.”

  “I would just feel better.”

  “I’m right down the hall. If there’s any trouble tonight, I’ll call you. I think I’m going to get on to bed now.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I just want to sleep and forget this day ever happened.” I say and give Mike a soft kiss on his lips.

  As I step out of his apartment, I feel a sense of vulnerability come over me. I feel naked and exposed. I begin to think the attack earlier has affected me more than I care to admit. I start towards my door and it’s like I’m walking a tightrope. A door clicks somewhere nearby and I spin around in a panic. I pull out my keys and run for my door. My hands are shaking as I try to shove the key into the lock. Finally it slides in and I twist it around. I hear the lock release and I push the door open and slam it shut behind me. I lock it quickly. I turn on the light and examine the room. It looks just as I had left it. I hurry to the kitchen and pull out the largest knife I can find and a flashlight. I carefully investigate the rest of the apartment. I look in every closet and behind every door. No shadow goes unchecked. I make sure that all the windows are locked and when I’m done and satisfied, I begin to relax. I make sure the front door is secured again and then go on to the bedroom. I don’t bother with my nightgown. I just sleep in my clothes with the knife clutched in my hands. I lay down upon my bed with the lights on and for three hours, I try to sleep, finally succumbing to my fatigue.

  A loud banging at my door wakes me up. I look around and it seems that I haven’t moved an inch since I fell asleep. I’m still in my clothes, flat on my back with my knife resting on my chest. I turn to my clock and see that it’s a quarter past eight in the morning. I jump up and run to the door. I carefully unlock it and pull it open to see the building’s superintendent standing before me. He was a mousy little guy in an old suit with a meek nature about him.

  “What is it?” I ask. He points to a notice he just posted on my door. An eviction notice. “You can’t do this! Why am I being evicted? I pay my rent!”

  “I had a complaint from the Bradleys. They say you attacked them.”

  “They attacked me! They broke into my place and attacked me!”

  “That’s not the story they’re telling.”

  “I don’t care! They’re lucky I don’t call the cops and have their wrinkled asses drop kicked into prison!”

  “And it says in that same lease that if a tenant becomes a major disturbance to the other residents, said tenant can be evicted.”

  “So, one complaint and I’m out? A false complaint no less?”

  “There have been others.”

  “Others? I barely know anyone in the building. How could anyone complain about me? Who is it?”

  “I’m not at liberty to reveal their names.”

  “So in other words, no one.”

  “You have thirty days.” He says and hurries away. I slam the door hard.

  Chapter 53

  The World Against Me

  I sit at my computer and a feeling of frustration takes me over. Now I not only have to find a new job, but I have to find a new home. Both endeavors are becoming increasingly hopeless as the world is shutting me out systematically. I attempt to search for either employment or housing but it’s all so hopeless. I walk away from the computer and pace around the room anxiously. A gentle knocking on my door breaks the silence. I walk over and I can hear a familiar humming coming from the other side. I pull the door open and I see Mike standing before me with a small cake in his hand with a few lit candles on top. He begins singing the happy birthday song and dances in gracefully. He looks far too silly to ignore. He sets the cake down on the table and looks to me happily.

  “Happy birthday.” He says.

  “That’s tomorrow. You’re a day early.”

  “I know, but I thought you could use it now.”

  “Or maybe you’re just concerned that there won’t be a tomorrow at all.”

  “Just blow
out the candles.”

  “I’m going to need more candles than this for all the wishes I’ve got. Especially now.”

  “What do you mean?” He asks. I go to my desk and fetch the eviction notice that the super had posted on my door. I tore it off soon after he posted it. No point in giving the neighbors the satisfaction. I slam the notice down on the table and Mike looks down on it with disbelief.

  “What is this?”

  “They’re kicking me out. Now I need a new home too.”

  “Well, this is an easy fix. Move in with me.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m serious. You’re never going to find a place to stay now.”

  “I’m not too worried. After all, the world’s ending tomorrow right?”

  “Don’t joke.”

  “It’s fine. Really. I have thirty days, so when tomorrow fails to produce Armageddon, I’m sure it’ll be easy to get this whole thing turned around. I’m just going through initial panic. I’ve never even seen an eviction notice before. I never dreamt I’d be the recipient of one.”

  “Then if you’re not really worried, let’s just dive into this cake.”

  After a leisurely breakfast of birthday cake, I tell Mike I have to get out and find a job. The online way isn’t working so I think a more direct approach will be better. I get myself all fixed up and ready to pound the pavement. I will not accept that my father has successfully black listed me from society. I will survive this. At any cost. I really don’t want to revisit the Hell that is retail, but there aren’t a lot of options out there for me right now. I check my cell phone and I’ve got all the information they usually ask for saved. Names and addresses of old employers and the like. Mike wishes me luck and I make my way down.

  As I hit the street, I feel the tension. It’s as if every eye turned to me at the exact same time. Doorman Will is seething as I pass him. I notice his black eye, which he received courtesy of Mike. I head out, umbrella firmly in hand. The heavy rains haven’t started yet, so I just enjoy the light drizzle. My first stop is the coffee house up the street. I figure I practically live there as it is, I might as well start drawing a wage from it. I walk in and it goes quiet. I walk up to the counter, which is deserted, for a change, and I notice the normally cheery girl behind the register shifts from a smile to a frown instantly.