Apocalypse Soldier

by William Massa

  Doyle pounded down the stairs. The male nurse disappeared through another doorway, and Doyle tore after him. Arriving in a deserted corridor, he spotted the stranger farther ahead, now striding briskly toward a set of double-doors.

  Doyle followed. He still hadn’t called for backup, partially because he was baffled by the situation. He drew his pistol, barged through the doors and entered the hospital morgue. Freezers lined the walls. Harsh, fluorescent light spilled down on the shroud-covered bodies resting on their shiny steel slabs.

  The dead triggered a flashback to the terrible scene he’d encountered in Cabrera’s church only 48 hours earlier. Walking into that defiled setting and taking in the bloody remains of the men, women and children sprawled among the pews like broken dolls had torn him up inside. He’d sworn right then and there to bring to justice the monsters responsible for these heinous crimes.

  Doyle took a few hesitant steps, moving deeper into the morgue. He passed the row of corpses, choking back the chalky taste in his mouth. A sudden noise made him whirl and he spotted one of the dead bodies rising from a table behind him. The revenant cast off its shroud, revealing the male nurse.

  Doyle leveled his pistol just as the man shoved a nearby gurney toward him. Wheels screeched over the stone floor as the gurney slammed into his stomach and the shot went wild. He gasped and desperately tried to regain his bearings but before he could, the stranger loomed above him. His attacker snatched Doyle’s arm and twisted until he released his pistol. It clattered to the floor.

  Before he knew it, Doyle was looking up at the muzzle of his own gun. The man’s penetrating gaze bore into him.

  “Who the hell are you?” Doyle asked.

  The stranger’s answer was to back away toward the exit and turn off the lights, plunging the morgue into blackness.

  Doyle followed the sound of the swinging doors, trying not to think about all the dead bodies that shared the darkness with him.

  By the time he stumbled his way out of the morgue, the stranger was long gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CASCA ARRIVED IN Silicon Valley right on time to attend Xtel’s monthly board meeting. His father had built a technological empire in the early seventies and Xtel chips could be found in twenty-five percent of all computers on the market. It represented the source of Casca’s wealth and power, but he’d never fully embraced his legacy as CEO of a billion-dollar-plus conglomerate. Consequently, he wasn’t exactly enamored with corporate rituals and saw these meetings as a necessary evil, at best.

  Once in a while, though, the boss had to check in with the men and women who took care of the day-to-day operations of the company.

  Today was one of those days.

  Casca struggled to keep his mind on business matters, his thoughts repeatedly shifting back to the church massacre. On the return flight to the Valley, he’d speculated about the objectives of this cult. What would drive these fanatics to hunt down three exorcists?

  By the time he arrived at Xtel for the big meeting, there were seven new images on his phone. While his chief operating officer rattled off the latest sales figures, Casca stole quick glances at the pictures. The murderous cult had branded the Arizona church with seven sigils, each one representing a Judeo-Christian demon associated with the seven deadly sins: Lucifer for pride, Mammon for greed, Asmodeus for lust, Leviathan for envy, Beelzebub for gluttony, Satan for wrath and Belphegor for sloth. The sigils provided a better sense of the cult’s belief system, but still shed scant light on their goals.

  Perhaps Casca was giving these murderers too much credit by assuming they had an endgame of some kind. Maybe they just liked to sign their grisly handiwork with the signatures of demonic heavy-hitters. Casca knew Talon was planning to talk with the priest who survived the massacre. Hopefully Father Cabrera could answer some of their questions.

  The one-hour meeting felt like it was never going to end and Casca stifled a yawn on more than one occasion. He was eager to get back to his true calling. As the CEO wrapped up his projections for the coming quarter, his cell buzzed again. A text told him that Talon had talked to Cabrera and gotten a name.

  Nicole Roberts.

  Reading this gave Casca a jolt of adrenaline and all traces of weariness vanished. His breath hitched and he pursed his lips, his whole being surging with excitement. “The Exorcism of Nicole Roberts” was one of the most famous cases of demon possession in recent history. They’d written a book and even made a film about the incident. To the public it was just another exorcism tale supposedly based on a true story, but people schooled in demonology regarded it as one of the few genuine cases of possession reported in the 21st Century.

  Armed with this new piece of information, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The cult wasn’t hunting exorcists. Father Cabrera and the other priests had been a means to an end – the cult was after Nicole Roberts, a young woman who had been saved from the darkness. A shiver spiked up his back and a feeling of dread settled in. It all made sense now.

  Casca knew what these soldier cultists were planning to do…

  And it was far worse than anything he’d previously imagined.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TALON CURSED UNDER his breath as he dashed out of the hospital and jumped into the Jeep Wrangler. Running into the FBI agent was an unfortunate development. He’d hoped to stay under the radar, but now the authorities would know that a new player had entered the picture. He’d have to move fast.

  Arid expanses of desert stretched all the way to the pale horizon as he guided his rental past Tucson’s city limits. The wheels of his vehicle whipped over the heat-cracked highway while the white-hot sun bounced off the rocks and hills in shimmering phantom waves.

  Wiping sweat from his brow, Talon sent Casca a quick text and updated him on the situation. At least they now understood the agenda driving the cult. These cultists were looking for Nicole Roberts, who had legally changed her last name to Stivers. The attacks were beginning to make sense. The cult had targeted priests with a background in exorcisms, hoping to find the one who’d performed the ritual on Nicole. That information had never been disclosed publicly.

  They’d started in New York, worked their way south to Miami until they found Cabrera in Arizona. According to the priest, Nicole had recently graduated from nursing school and moved to the small Mexican border town of Sierra Nogal, population 9,000, located about two-hundred miles southwest of Tucson. Cabrera was privy to all this information because he’d continued to check in on Nicole over the years. He even believed that Nicole had gone to school in Tucson to be close to him. A precaution on her end, in case the demon should return one day.

  Unfortunately, her decision to share her plans for the future had backfired.

  Talon wondered how Nicole coped with the knowledge that evil could consume her life at a moment’s notice. A giant darkness hung over her, casting a deep shadow over her future. Despite these challenges, she was working hard to build a better life for herself. She struck Talon as a born fighter.

  Even though he didn’t know Nicole personally, he related to her on some level. A dark entity had invaded his mind in Silicon Valley, providing a mere taste of what the poor girl had gone through. His bodily possession had lasted less than a day, but the experience still haunted him. For a short period of time another intelligence had seized hold of his mind, poisoning his thoughts, turning him into a monster… Only the memory of his beloved Michelle had managed to break the spell.

  He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Nicole to share her body with such an entity for a prolonged period of time. He didn’t want to imagine it. Talon suddenly experienced an emotion he never had much time for in the past – anxiety. Hoping to distract himself, he checked the radio stations. A right-wing talk-show host went on about the evils of illegal immigration and Talon quickly turned off the diatribe. He was neither in the mood for music nor politics.

  Instead, he rang Casca. He might as well spend the duration of the ride talkin
g to the billionaire and learning more about the woman this cult was hunting. After the third ring, Casca’s educated, refined voice filled the bouncing vehicle. There was a dark urgency in his voice. He skipped any small talk and got right to the meat of the conversation.

  “How well do you know the Bible?” he asked.

  “Talon comes from the Italian name Talone. That makes me Catholic and a former altar boy.”

  “Next you’re going to tell me that you wanted to become a priest?”

  “Hey, watch it now. I’m the one who cracks the jokes around here.”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Talone.”

  Talon grinned despite himself. For a moment he could pretend they were just two buddies joking around. It once again drove home the sense of camaraderie missing from his new life, away from his Special Forces unit.

  The billionaire turned serious as he asked, “Familiar with Matthew 12:45?”

  “Despite my Italian heritage I haven’t attended Sunday school in quite some time.”

  “Verses 43 and 44 are the important ones. Matthew and Catholic demonology claim that when a demon returns to the same host, he will bring with him six other spirits, returning seven times as powerful as before.”

  That explains the seven sigils at the Church, Talon thought.

  “Have you ever wondered why most victims of demonic possession are teens?” Casca inquired.

  “I figured they’re the only ones willing to pay cash to see a horror movie in the theater.”

  Ignoring his crack, Casca continued. “You’d think a demon, an agent of darkness, would target political leaders, warriors like yourself, individuals capable of horrible destruction and harm. Yet they pick young people at the cusp of puberty, the poor and the desperate.”

  Talon mulled it over for a moment and said, “They make easier targets?”

  “That’s right. To break from the demons’ world into ours requires immense effort and the vulnerable soul of a child provides a beachhead from which a greater spiritual attack can be launched. It’s a first step for these parasites. The impressionable, ever-changing mind of a teenager becomes a gateway to our reality. Demons operate on the principle of preying on the weak so they can use them to take over the strong.”

  “Thanks for clearing that up. I’ll never look at The Exorcist in quite the same way again. But how does any of this apply here?”

  “The mass murder in the church and the slaying of the priest are all part of a larger ritual designed to draw this entity back to Nicole.”

  A chill rippled up Talon’s spine despite the searing desert heat.

  “This time around, the demon will return sevenfold. Making it pretty much unstoppable. If the cult succeeds, these seven entities will be able to find new hosts and begin to manipulate our world to their advantage.”

  Talon had barely managed to defeat one demon in Silicon Valley. Battling seven of these monsters seemed like an impossible challenge.

  “You must stop this repossession from happening, at all costs,” Casca urged.

  Talon frowned as a new thought entered his mind. “If repossessing a former host allows the power of a demon to grow, why doesn’t it happen more often?”

  “Driving out the demon strengthens the host to fight off future spiritual attacks. Think of it as surviving your first tour of duty. The experience hardens the victim. Most demons seek easier targets… But if someone could weaken the defenses of the once-possessed, through sacrifice, ritual and psychological warfare…”

  “The demon could gain access again.”

  “And once inside, it will have a far stronger hold on its victim, allowing other entities to pass through. At least that’s what all the books say on the subject.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out if the books are telling the truth.”

  One last thing was bothering Talon.

  “So these demons aren’t truly Judeo-Christian?”

  “Their names vary from one culture another. Lucifer. Djinn. Orisha. Shedim. Vetalas. Different terminology for the same phenomenon. These entities are manifestations of the darkness, given shape and form by the occultists who are channeling the power.”

  “Okay, I get it, but why would a cross or holy water harm such an entity?”

  “How was the demon-slayer blade able to defeat Zagan? I don’t know exactly how it works, but if San Francisco has proven anything, we know it worked there. The spiritualists and occultists who created these weapons and designed these rituals found a way to access the light, similar to the way the cultists channel the darkness. A cross is just two pieces of wood, a vial of holy water just tap water blessed by a priest, and no matter how religious you might be, those items by themselves are useless against one of these creatures. But the same way the darkness can infect people and objects, so can the light. The exorcism ritual as practiced by the Church taps into that power.”

  “In other words, it works.”

  “Against one entity it does. Against seven, let’s say I’d rather not find out, despite my intellectual curiosity about the matter.”

  “I guess I’d better get to Nicole before the cult does,” Talon said.

  “No pressure, now.”

  “Cabrera believes that the demon already walks among us. He thinks a devil leads these men. He calls himself Amon. Isn’t that the name of a demon?”

  There was silence on the phone as Casca chewed it over.

  “There are many Amons in mythology. You have the Egyptian deity Amun, Amon of Judah, the 7th-century BC king and the demon Amon, the grand marquis of hell and commander the forty infernal legions.”

  “Charming…”

  “Amon has a the appearance of a wolf with a serpent’s tail according to demonology. I doubt Father Cabrera faced such a creature and lived to tell the tale.”

  “Okay, so what’s going on here?”

  “I don’t know what Cabrera saw but if it was a demon, it would wear a face of a man, not a monster. These creatures want to infiltrate our world, blend in. This cult leader sounds like he is hoping to be perceived as a devil even though he’s still a man.”

  Talon considered this. What Casca described was a common practice in war. Warriors went into battle wearing masks designed to transform them into something greater than themselves. Something more frightening.

  “You think we’re dealing with some crazy soldier who’s playing dress-up?”

  “That’s for you to find out.”

  “You do realize this cult has a head start… We might already be too late.”

  “Let’s keep a positive attitude for now.”

  “If I do get lucky and somehow manage to get to Nicole first, where do we go from there?”

  “Convince her to leave Arizona with you. She’ll be safe with me here in Silicon Valley. My security team will protect her from the militia. I also intend to contact Cabrera so he can begin the process of fortifying her mind against any renewed spiritual attack by the entity.”

  “Sounds like we have a plan. I’ll check in once I have a better idea what’s going on.”

  “Good luck,” Casca said and ended the call.

  Even though time was of the essence, Talon maintained the speed limit. Considering the small arsenal in the trunk of his car, he didn’t want to risk being pulled. The cache of pistols, ammo, grenades and a submachine gun wouldn’t endear him to the local authorities. Even in Arizona.

  The sun had already set as he entered Sierra Nogal’s city limits. The jeweled lights of the city shimmered like flames in the evening. The town seemed like a place forgotten by time. A McDonald’s and Walmart, both built in the seventies, were the newest businesses. The streets he drove through were deserted and bathed in the orange hues of sodium-vapor of streetlights. Why had Nicole chosen Sierra Nogal to start her new life?

  She is still running, Talon thought. Instinctively trying to keep a low profile. And despite all her efforts, her past had still managed to catch up with her.

  He checked the time.
It was around nine o’clock. Nicole would most likely be home by now. Her roommate, according to Casca’s information, worked nights. Talon decided to pay Nicole a visit and go from there.

  Following the directions on his GPS, it took him only fifteen minutes to find Nicole’s house. It was located near the main freeways but felt isolated. Palm and shade trees fronted a covered patio. He pulled up to the curb and parked the jeep. Most of his weapons stayed in the trunk except for the Glock in his shoulder holster and a Ka-bar strapped around his waist.

  Talon walked up to the apartment and rang the buzzer. No one answered. He stood near the door and listened intently. No sounds drifted from inside the house. His gut told him that no one was home and he began to quickly pick the front lock. The lock was cheap and barely slowed him down. If people knew how vulnerable their dwellings were to a determined intruder, they’d probably invest in a better security system. Ignorance was bliss in this case.

  The door snapped open and Talon entered the silent, stuffy dwelling. One glance informed him he was too late. The living room was in complete disarray. An overturned coffee table and broken vase suggested a recent altercation. The cult had gotten to Nicole first. He spotted framed photographs of a tall, fair-skinned brunette. Attractive but with a vulnerable, haunted quality to her smile. There was a sadness and seriousness there that seemed at odds with her beauty. In some of the pictures she was hanging out with a shorter, olive-skinned female whom he assumed to be Nicole’s roommate.

  Talon drew his Glock and advanced carefully toward the open bedroom door. Death pervaded the air. The first thing he noticed as he stepped into the next room was a cow skull facing him from the head of the bed, bone flecked with crimson, long horns sheathed in red. The skull rested on a blood-drenched, headless female body. Demonic sigils marked the wall.

  Facing the mutilated woman before him made Talon think of Michelle, and his heart sank. Another casualty in this dark war. Anger rose within him and it took a concentrated effort to regain control over his emotions.