Apocalypse Soldier

by William Massa

  Mountains rose to the east, confirming that he was closing in on his destination. He guided the Buick off the freeway and pulled onto a dirt road, the only way to access the isolated monastery.

  Thirteen miles later, he drove into the canyon. A wailing wind greeted him as the monastery jumped into view. The chapel’s tower grew from the barren earth, a larger and more majestic version of his own humble church. It overlooked the dusty road like a watchful guardian. A series of structures clustered around the chapel, consisting of the monks’ cells, the cloisters, and a gift shop stocked with books and religious items. A stone wall ringed the buildings.

  The monastery struck Cabrera like a natural extension of the desert, perfectly blending in with its surroundings. Sand dotted with scrubs and cacti was everywhere, and the broken finger of a craggy mountain loomed above the holy structure like a second spire. The sun played off the jagged rocks and the chapel’s skylights, filling the arid land with shimmering illusions.

  Cabrera slid to a stop and parked the car. As he closed the remaining distance between himself and the order on foot, the alkali odor of heat drifted up from the desert, almost as if hell was already reaching out for him from below.

  He pushed the disturbing thought aside and gripped his holy relic. The monastery was as quiet as a ghost town in a Western. The place seemed to be waiting for a showdown, except this time instead of Old West gunslingers, the very forces of good and evil would clash.

  Near the main entrance, the monks waited for him. Their grey robes formed a sharp contrast to his black smock. They welcomed him and then quickly got down to business, updating Father Cabrera on their preparations for the exorcism. Neither the soldier and Nicole nor the cult had arrived yet, which was a small blessing.

  The brothers led him into the welcoming shade of the cloisters. About twenty monks called the monastery their permanent home. The friars came from all over the world, but English was still the official language. Cabrera had always marveled at these men and how they communed with God out here, removed from human society. There was too much of the fighter inside of him, the tough kid who grew up in Washington Heights, to retreat from civilization like this. He thrived on getting his hands dirty out in the trenches, but he respected the monks of this holy order. In their own way, they were all serving God as best they could.

  Cabrera followed the monks down a winding passageway that led into the chapel. Sunlight streamed through the three large skylights, brilliantly illuminating the empty church. The pews had been removed, and one of the friars was using a nail gun to bolt down a simple bedframe in the center of the house of worship. These precautions were necessary, considering the powers of the possessed: super-strength, telekinesis, and levitation. Any item not attached to the ground could become a potential weapon in the battle with an exorcist. The plan was to restrain Nicole to the bed to prevent her from rising into the air during the exorcism. The chamber for the ritual was almost ready, and this lifted some of the burden weighing down on Cabrera’s shoulders.

  He turned toward a series of laptops surrounding the bed. Though isolated, the monks maintained a link to society through the internet. It also helped them sell their craft beers since few tourists ever found them at this remote desert location. The computers were also an essential part of the plan that the soldier’s mysterious friend had proposed to him. It sounded crazy, but Father Cabrera was desperate and willing to give it a shot.

  As the day wore on and the soldier and Nicole failed to show up, Cabrera’s anxiety grew. Where were they? He fought back terrible visions of Nicole in the clutches of the demon soldier.

  Two hours after his arrival, relief washed over him as he spotted a swirling dust cloud winding its way up to the monastery. Cabrera peered through a pair of binoculars and caught sight of a fast approaching motorcycle, the soldier and Nicole clearly visible astride the bike. They made it! Then he saw a second set of dust clouds. Hot on their tail, a Hummer and pick-up truck.

  Here we go, he thought.

  The bike rumbled and sputtered to a stop. The soldier and Nicole dismounted - they both looked like they’d been to war, which wasn’t that far off the mark. Hair pasted to their heads, clothes covered in black soot and desert dust, faces bruised. Despite her ordeal, Nicole brightened when she spotted Father Cabrera. But as he hurried down the path, her initial smile gave way to cold, haughty expression. He’d meant to hug her but froze instead, his hands at his sides. Reptilian eyes regarded him with the recognition of an old foe.

  “It’s been a while, Father Cabrera. I’m looking forward to a rematch,” the demon said with an icy smirk.

  “Get out of her,” he said, knowing that mere words would do no good against such an ancient evil.

  After a moment, the inhuman expression softened as Nicole reasserted herself, and she nodded apologetically at him. “I’m sorry, Father. The forces inside of me are growing stronger.” She clutched a strange pentagram amulet and shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to hold on.”

  “Remember what I taught you.” The words felt hollow, but he could think of nothing better. He turned toward the soldier. The man was decked out in combat black. Father Cabrera glanced down at his own black robes and realized that they both wore a uniform of sorts for their chosen calling. A man of God and a man of war. Cabrera saved souls, the soldier sent them to hell. He recognized that each profession served its purpose in this cosmic drama called life.

  “What are we up against?” he asked Nicole’s guardian. He had a hundred other questions—foremost among them was why this soldier was helping Nicole and who his mysterious friend might be—but they would have to wait for later. If there was a later.

  “I wish I knew,” the soldier replied. “Amon only has about ten men left at this point, but he’s been tapping into the demon’s magic.” After a beat, he added, “You and the brothers take care of Nicole and let me worry about Amon.”

  Brave words, but Cabrera detected a hint of doubt in the soldier’s voice. Not even this seasoned warrior could predict the outcome of the battle ahead.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE WHITE-HOT desert blazed as Talon and Nicole tore down the freeway, Amon and his soldiers once again hot on their tail. Sharing a ride with a possessed woman—correction, a woman possessed by seven different demons—wasn’t Talon’s idea of a good time. What if the demons asserted themselves and decided to make them crash? If Nicole could survive a grenade, being splattered along the freeway wouldn’t be a big concern for her.

  He clenched his jaw and forced his mind to not even go there. Hopefully, between Nicole resisting the dark entity and the amulet around her neck offering some protection, they’d be able to make it to the monastery. He eyed the fuel gauge and hoped they wouldn’t run out of gas before they reached their destination. He had no cash on him and he doubted Amon would just sit back and watch while they hit up the nearest service station.

  Thirty minutes later, he saw the canyon that marked their journey’s end. As Talon drew closer, he spotted Father Cabrera on the steps. Nicole tightened her grip around his waist. Was it an expression of relief at encountering a familiar face after the last twenty-four hours of horror? Or had the demons inside her recognized an old nemesis?

  Talon pulled up to Cabrera’s parked car. As they both got off the bike, he kept a hand around Nicole’s wrist in case the unholy entities compelled her to make a run for it. He searched her gaze and only saw Nicole. Even though the demons still surfaced for brief intervals, the Sumerian pendant’s magic seemed to be powerful enough to prevent them from asserting full control over her.

  At least for the moment.

  Talon watched as the demon surfaced to taunt the exorcist, but Nicole regained control before it could do any harm. Father Cabrera sized him up, his expression unreadable, as Talon gave his situation report. The cult was on its way, and while Talon was confident he could hold off the invading army, it was up to the brotherh
ood to save Nicole. “What’s your plan?” Talon asked.

  “Not my plan. Your friend—who, like yourself, never told me his name—suggested our next course of action. We face seven demons, so seven exorcists will combine their prayers to strengthen the ritual and expel these unholy entities from Nicole.”

  Talon took a look around at their isolated surroundings. “Great plan. But where the hell - sorry father- are we going to find seven exorcists out here?”

  “We may be in the middle of nowhere, but thanks to the internet we have access to the whole world.”

  Talon shook his head. “You’re going to stream an exorcism?”

  “Six of the world’s leading exorcists will join me through Skype in the chapel. Their faith and spiritual power will be channeled through me,” Cabrera explained.

  Talon cocked an eyebrow. “Think it’ll work?”

  “We’re about to find out, aren’t we?” the priest said with a touch of bravado that couldn’t quite hide how nervous he was.

  “You might be crazy enough for the military,” Talon said.

  “No thanks, one uniform is enough.”

  They traded a short-lived grin. This guy was okay, for a priest. And he clearly cared about Nicole. That was enough to earn Talon’s trust—for now.

  Talon shifted his focus back to Nicole, who’d been watching the exchange in what seemed like silent indifference. She was looking out at the desert and the approaching cultists, her eyes distant and forlorn.

  “Are we going to be able win this?” she asked.

  “If Father Cabrera and I have anything to say about the matter, yes.”

  “The woman in the video, you loved her?” Nicole said, her voice a whisper.

  She meant everything to me, Talon thought but merely nodded, his silence saying everything that needed to be said.

  “She must’ve been special woman.” She bit her lips. “I’m sorry about your loss. No matter what happens, thank you for trying to save me.”

  This said, she turned away and let the monks shepherd her into the monastery.

  “We will do everything in our power to drive out these demons, soldier,” Cabrera said.

  Talon appreciated the noble sentiment but knew the odds were against them. His eyes met the exorcist’s and he said, “My name is Mark.”

  Cabrera nodded and smiled. “Good luck, Mark.”

  “Good luck, Father Cabrera.”

  Resolute, Talon turned toward the approaching enemy, a lone soldier against the forces of hell.

  ***

  Talon made his stand in a shimmering field of solar panels. The monastery was located thirteen miles from the nearest power line. Bringing in electricity from the outside would have been cost prohibitive. Instead, the monks used energy from the desert sun to generate their own power on-site. Clever.

  Talon wondered what motivated men to turn their backs on civilization-not to mention female companionship—and seek out a life in a barren wasteland. On second thought, it actually sounded a lot like military service. Warriors in God’s army. The more he thought about it, the more parallels he saw between soldiers and monks—foremost that they both were forced to give up the amenities of the modern world. For both groups, routine defined their lives. Talon had spent enough years in the desert to know that it took a certain type of individual to put up with hardship like this. Every man wearing a monk’s robe out here had a story.

  Live and let live, right?

  The sun sizzled down, and Talon wished he was decked out in desert camo instead of his black combat gear. Black worked for nighttime infiltration missions but was ill-suited for desert warfare. The thumb he had dislocated on his left hand was hurting something fierce, too. The damage and strain he’d inflicted to his body were starting to catch up to him at the worst possible time.

  Talon pushed aside his discomfort and glassed the scrub-covered hill with a pair of binoculars, tracking the advancing militia. He counted nine men including Amon, who was in the lead. The cultists were closing in from the east, where the mountain would provide plenty of cover. They were using the rocky outcroppings to their best advantage and approached in a V-formation, their specialized military training apparent in their tactics.

  Good thing Talon had the same training. The array farm, with its large, moving solar panels, would offer added protection once they got closer.

  The AK-47 he’d snatched from one of the cultists only had an effective range up until thirteen-hundred feet. An SPR MK12 sniper rifle would have come in handy at this point, but unfortunately the monastery was beyond the reach of Casca’s care packages. He would have to wait for Amon and his cult members to get closer before engaging them. Still, he hoped to be able to pick them off one by one.

  The waiting gave him too much time to think. Talon refused to run the odds or give in to fear. There were many examples in military history where determined soldiers successfully held off superior numbers.

  His thoughts turned to Nicole. How was she faring in the monastery? Would Casca’s plan of using technology to create a digital army of exorcists work? He still didn’t know what Amon’s ultimate objective was, and that troubled him most of all. The demons were already inside of Nicole, so what else did he need from her?

  Without warning, the solar panel next to him shattered as a hail of bullets destroyed the array. The shot shouldn’t have been possible. The approaching troopers were still hundreds of feet away and therefore out of range, unless…

  More lead lashed the air, and Talon flung himself to the ground as bullets whizzed overhead. He peered through the binoculars again and found that Amon’s men were…gone.

  Adrenaline surged as fear of the unknown gripped him despite his efforts to stay calm. He’d stared down death many times and confronted terrifying enemies, but he had always done so on a battlefield where the goddamn rules of physics applied. These soldiers operated in a different world, one where ritualistic human sacrifice and magic could distort and transform reality. A silhouette appeared reflected in a nearby array, and without thought Talon opened fire. The bullet found the shooter, and the man was flung back into the solar panels, shattering them on impact.

  Somehow, the men had covered over thirteen-hundred feet in less than a minute. How was Amon pulling off these feats of black magic? More importantly, if he could teleport his men and cloak himself, why hadn’t he used the same magic when he was chasing after him earlier? Casca would have some sort of theory, no doubt, but the billionaire was a long way off from the battlefield. Lucky bastard.

  Talon thought back to Zagan and how he’d used the occult algorithm to power his magic. The demon soldier seemed to be doing something similar, given what Talon had seen. Amon was definitely drawing on the power of the seven demons somehow, but there seemed to be limits on what he could do. Problem was, Talon didn’t know what those limits were. Did the cult have to be near Nicole to harness the demonic energy? Or maybe there was only so much power they could tap at any given time. Talon didn’t know—and he didn’t have time to find out. If he survived this fight, he’d have to ask Casca.

  Another round erupted next to his head, way too close for comfort. Three arrays separated him from the east wall of the monastery. He’d have to make a run for it by leapfrogging from one array to the next. He caught movement seventy yards from his left as a soldier came up to take a shot at him. Talon squeezed the trigger an instant before his opponent. The man’s masked head disappeared in a mist of red.

  Two down, way too many more to go.

  More bullets sizzled the air. Talon laid down some strafing fire as he exploded into motion. He saw two more arrays shatter—hopefully Casca would foot the bill. Snapping off shots, more fighters went down. Then he hurled himself over the wall that ringed the monastery’s brick courtyard. He crouched behind the stone barrier, using it for cover. A renewed barrage chipped the wall, sending up a spray of dust and stone shrapnel. Talon came up, returned fire, and saw two more cultists collapse. Despite Amon’s parlor tric
ks, he was laying waste to his assault forces.

  Don’t get cocky now, he admonished himself. Cocky will get you killed.

  As if to confirm his warning, a hail of bullets pockmarked the bulwark, tearing out large chunks of stone. There were thirty rounds in an AK-47’s magazine, but he must be down to half of that. He probably had only ten rounds left in the Glock. He’d just have to make those last bullets count. Maybe if he took out Amon himself, the others might panic or give up the fight entirely.

  He sensed sudden movement behind him. His rational mind told him it was impossible, as none of the cult members could’ve crept up on his six. But, as he kept having to remind himself, this was an enemy for whom the normal rules of physics didn’t apply.

  Too late, he tried to dodge. A bullet grazed his shoulder, flinging him backward. As he sailed through the air, he squeezed off three shots. The rounds found their target and punched into the chest of a massively built shooter who had to be Amon. There was a loud thump as the felled giant hit the dust.

  Silence reined in the wake of the attack. Talon remained tightly pressed to the ground, eyes ticking back and forth, scoping his surroundings. He didn’t spot any more members of Amon’s cult. Guard up, he crawled toward the downed monster. The masked man splayed before him let out wheezing breaths, desperately struggling to fill his perforated lungs with oxygen.As he closed in on the prone figure, it suddenly seemed smaller in stature than before, shorter and thinner than Talon expected. Gripped with dread, he pulled off Amon’s ski mask…only to come face to face with Father Cabrera. The exorcist stared up at him with shocked eyes, blood bubbling from his lips. Talon could almost hear the demon soldier laughing in the back of his mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE MONKS FLANKED Nicole as they led her to the bed in the middle of the chapel. Cabrera urged her to lie down and let them put on the restraints. “It’s for your own protection,” he said. “Just hold still.”