Tribulation

by Philip W Simpson

  He did his usual trick of disguising his mind, using his glamor to try and extend the mental camouflage so it covered an area rather than just himself. It usually only worked for himself but it was worth a try. That way, anyone nearby him should also be concealed. Hopefully. He couldn’t be sure if it worked but no doubt they would soon find out.

  A small part of his mind was also focused on the conversation happening around him. Suddenly, he became aware of what they were talking about, snapping his entire attention back to them.

  “Yeah, it’s a snow plough. Looks ok, too. Haven’t checked it out properly or anything yet though …”

  “What did you say?” said Sam, more sharply than he’d intended.

  In the flickering light of the candles, Mike indicated a dark patch of shadow on the depot floor. “There’s a snow plough over there,” repeated Mike. “Stored here during summer and brought out to clear the highway in winter. Doesn’t look like it’s been touched, either.”

  Now that Sam’s mind was more focused, he could see that yes indeed, it was a snow plough. He hadn’t had time to register what was in the depot before. This could just be the stroke of luck he needed.

  “Do you think you can get it going?” he asked.

  Mike shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Shouldn’t be any different than driving the sanitation truck. Just need fuel but usually they have a supply at the depot. I couldn’t find it in here so it’s probably in the compound outside. The gate was intact so it probably hasn’t been looted.”

  Sam nodded. He tried not to get his hopes up but this really could be the answer to their salvation here. They’d got really lucky finding this place. Even if they survived the night, he knew that probably half of these people wouldn’t be able to get to Columbus on foot. What he needed was transportation. A snow plough was perfect, no – more than perfect. With its massive plough at the front, they’d easily be able to deal with any cars blocking the highway. That was one of the reasons why he always travelled on foot: the roads were often blocked by vehicles which had lost their occupants during the Rapture. That … and Sam didn’t know how to drive. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to drive a truck. Once again, having Mike with them was a stroke of luck. Sam thought – hoped - that someone was watching over them.

  Examining the bright yellow vehicle, Sam considered options. Behind him, he heard Mike curse as he tripped over in the darkness, moving towards him. Eventually, Sam felt him fumbling at his sleeve.

  “Jeez, how do you see like that?” he asked.

  “Practice,” said Sam. “I move around a lot at night. My night vision seems to have adapted.”

  Unaware that Sam could see his expression clearly in the darkness, Mike looked skeptical but obviously decided to drop it. Olivia, apparently curious, brought one of the candles over. They stood around the truck in contemplative silence.

  “How many can you fit in the cab?” Sam asked.

  “No more than four. But see the open tray at the back? That’s where snow that needs to be moved gets stored. We’ll be able to fit the others in there easily.”

  Sam considered. The tray had solid metal sides, rising up to chest height on an average human. It would provide some protection from demons. Of course, it was completely open to attack from above, but you couldn’t have everything. Hopefully, by giving all the weapons to those in the back, it should enable them to fend off an Astaroth.

  “We’ll have to wait until morning,” said Olivia. “The others are too tired. Myself included.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll need to sort out the fuel situation,” said Mike. “Best done in the light of day.” Cautiously, conscious of tripping again, Mike moved to the side of the truck and opened the cab door, grimacing as it creaked alarmingly. The door had not been opened for some time. “Keys in the ignition,” he said.

  Sam was relieved. The last thing he wanted to do is search the entire depot for keys. He also agreed with the others about waiting for morning, although a part of him felt slightly uneasy. He wasn’t sure if his glamor would keep the demons away, especially for the whole night. They had an opportunity here, one that Sam was keen to exploit as soon as possible. But there was nothing for it. The others did need to rest. That couldn’t be helped.

  In the uncertain light of the candles, the twelve survivors settled down for the night, trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the hard concrete floor. A few had asked about food but Sam wasn’t going to risk cooking at night, especially here when he knew that demons were nearby. Although starving, they’d have to wait for morning. Sam also ensured that those with guns kept them nearby. He, himself would stay on guard but he wanted the others ready to fight if it came to it. Which it inevitably would.

  Chapter Eleven

  Columbus

  "But the one who endures to the end, he shall be saved.” Matthew 24:10, 13

  It must’ve been after midnight when he heard it. A scream. A woman’s scream. He was on his feet in a second, shocked out of his meditative trance, already berating himself for his lack of attention. He’d been elsewhere, his senses concentrating on the movements of demons outside. They were close – some Lemures had even shuffled up to the main doors and sniffed around for a while. He’d observed them closely, prepared to take them out before they could spread the alarm.

  That was why he hadn’t noticed what was going on within the depot. Unsurprisingly. One of the woman – Sam hadn’t learnt her name yet; he wasn’t very good with names – had taken herself off to the toilet, using a dark recess on the depot floor. It was pointless using the tiny bathroom they’d discovered. It was blocked and in any case, hadn’t been working for years.

  Sam’s senses found her immediately. He raced in that direction, conscious that the others were rousing themselves frantically. Outside, he knew the Lemure had heard the noise. Even now, they were scratching at the door.

  “Everyone in the truck,” he shouted behind him. “Mike, you drive.”

  He found her cowering, unable to see Sam clearly as he approached, just a large ominous patch of darkness.

  “It’s ok,” he said. “I’m here. What happened?” He helped her to her feet.

  “I … I saw something move. Over there,” she pointed in a corner. “I don’t know what it was.”

  Sam reached out with his senses. He couldn’t sense anything, but then, yes, he could. Something tiny, almost mindless. And then he knew what it was. A rat. Their cover had been blown for a rat. The chicken of the apocalypse, probably the most common food source for survivors just because they were everywhere. A part of him wanted to be angry with this woman but he knew he was being unfair. It wasn’t her fault. She was just scared.

  “It’s just a rat,” he said flatly.

  “I’m … I ’m sorry,” she said.

  Sam nodded even though he knew she probably couldn’t see the gesture. “I know,” he said. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

  Almost dragging her behind him, he put her in the arms of Olivia who was helping load the others into the back of the truck. He noticed with relief that the packs were going in too. Someone was thinking clearly. The packs included his, thankfully. There were personal items in there that he would hate to lose, not to mention all of the food and water in the other packs. If they survived, they would need it. And that was a big ‘if’. The Lemure by themselves weren’t a problem. It was unlikely they would be able to get into the depot but their scratching had already attracted the interest of more powerful demons. Sam sensed at least one Astaroth circling. A group of Horned demons were also lumbering in this direction to investigate.

  He caught Olivia’s eye. “What is it?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just one of the others. Dead,” she said.

  “How?” asked Sam but he already knew.

  “Plague. She must have died during the night.”

  Sam said nothing. What did you say at times like this? For all he knew, Olivia and this nameless victim of the bub
onic plague had been friends or family. But he didn’t have time for that now. “Sorry, you’ll have to leave her. The guards won’t allow the body onto the base in any case.”

  The words sounded harsh even as he said them. He caught Olivia frowning at him but he didn’t have time for that.

  He darted over to the main depot doors at the rear of the building. The massive roller door looked like it was usually controlled electronically. No good. This building hadn’t had power in years. He inspected the area around the door with as much haste as he dared. Then he saw it. There was a chain dangling in the corner, used to manually open the door. Unlocking the door at its base, he yanked on the chain. Painfully slowly, the door edged upward. He pulled on the chain harder, again and again. When it reached the point where Sam thought the truck would clear the opening, he stopped. Outside, beyond the wire fence, he could see Lemure gathering. But he also saw something else. A fuel pump.

  Mike and Olivia were already in the cab. Sam could see Mike struggling with something. He raced over.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “I think I’ve flooded it,” said Mike, his voice strained.

  “Has it got gas?”

  Mike nodded. “A bit.” Sam watched him turn the ignition. The truck gave a sick cough but the engine didn’t turn over.

  “Try it again,” said Olivia.

  She sounded as tense as Mike and Sam knew why. Heard clearly throughout the depot were sounds of frantic scrabbling against the main doors. These were interspersed with louder, heavier thuds. One of the Horned demons had reached the building. The door wouldn’t hold out for much longer. In the compound, the Lemure were stacking up, piling on top of one another. Soon, they’d be level with the top of the fence and be able to trickle over. That trickle would quickly turn into a flood.

  Mike closed his eyes, took a deep breath and waited for a moment. Time seemed to drag; everyone in the depot seemed to hold their breath. Then Mike turned the key. The engine coughed again, louder this time, and roared into life. Sam heard several people cheer.

  “Over here,” he yelled over the engine. “The pump’s over here.” Sam guided Mike over. The pump was locked of course, but Sam made short work of that with his Wakizashi. He thrust the nozzle into the truck and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

  Mike poked his head out the window. “It needs electricity to run but there should be a hand pump.”

  Quickly, Sam checked the other side. There was a rotary handle, also locked, which Sam cut through. He wound the handle and was rewarded with a splutter as diesel began to dribble out. He could feel it through the pipe. He wound harder and now the diesel began to flow. Mike kept the engine going. Inside, he heard a crash and a tearing sound. If Sam didn’t know better, it sounded like the door had just been torn off its hinges.

  A terrible cry sounded from above. Sam looked up to see an Astaroth was descending. The nine people in the back were heedless of this. Sam shouted a warning but it was too late; the Astaroth tore out of the sky and hurtled down to the rear of the truck. It grasped one of the women in its leg talons and shot back into the sky again. She screamed in shock and terror. Sam could see her face clearly but knew there was nothing he could do for her. Several people raised their guns but there was no way they could fire for fear of hitting her. It would’ve been a mercy though. A fate worse than death awaited her.

  As the Astaroth and the woman disappeared into the night’s sky, her screams drifted back to them on the warm breeze. The action seemed to act as a catalyst for the others. They began to scan the skies, moving their weapons around nervously.

  Several things then happened at once. Sam heard the thud of enormous footsteps, and he looked up to see a massive Horned Demon at the door of the depot. It saw them, raised its huge stone mallet and charged. At the same time, the wire fence, incapable of maintaining its integrity any longer, collapsed under the weight of the mass of Lemure pressing up against it. They also surged towards the truck. Sam yanked the nozzle out and dropped it on the ground. Without him turning the pump, the flow of diesel dried up. He jumped into the passenger side of the cab next to Olivia.

  “Go, go, go!” he yelled. “Drive.”

  Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He revved the engine, and the truck sprang forwards, charging straight towards the horde of Lemure descending upon them. Mike didn’t bother to swerve. The truck itself weighed several tons. Combined with the plough at the front, it was almost an unstoppable force. The Lemure didn’t stand a chance. They scattered in front of him; any caught head-on were scooped up by the plough, most falling under the wheels of the truck where they were flattened. Many would have suffered injuries but most wouldn’t have been fatal. Only cold iron had the power to do that.

  Behind them, the Horned demon bellowed in frustration, built for power, not speed and unable to keep up with the truck. Sam turned and saw several of the survivors firing at the demons, keeping them off the truck.

  Mike sped on through the flattened remains of the gate. He swerved wildly, guiding the truck onto the main highway, smashing his way through two abandoned vehicles. At last Sam turned around to face the front, satisfied that they would make it out safely. He could see Olivia’s expression and Mike’s face. Both were flushed with victory - but at what cost? Sam had already lost one of the people he had rescued, and another had died. How many would be left by the time they got to Columbus?

  Sam needn’t have worried. The rest of the trip passed rather uneventfully. The snow plough was easily capable of smashing aside any obstacle. The Lemure struggled to get a grip on the on the solid metal sides, especially when they had to deal with a lethal barrage of fire from the gun-wielding occupants in the back. The only obvious weakness was from above but Sam kept a close eye on the sky and warned everyone when an Astaroth was near. A few of the great demons tried an aerial assault but had been driven off by the iron rounds. One Astaroth had even been destroyed.

  Mike had been reasonably confident that they’d have enough fuel to reach Columbus. Even though Sam hadn’t had much time to fuel up the truck, it seemed that it already had some to begin with. Luckily. Mike was right, but he’d slowed down to conserve fuel as they neared the outskirts, just to be on the safe side.

  In the back, the others had satisfied their hunger, using Sam’s pocket knife to open cans of beans and other assorted fast food, eating it cold. Despite the fact that they had lost two of their number, there had been almost a party atmosphere in the truck, a feeling that Sam hadn’t shared. He’d become somewhat pessimistic over the years with the belief that things seemed to go wrong, in spite of his best intentions and planning. Experience had taught him never to assume and he didn’t feel any sense of relief until they had actually reached the outskirts of Columbus.

  It was almost dawn when the gates of the National Guard base reared up in front of them. The streets of Columbus were completely deserted. Apart from a few determined survivors, the only living humans in the city were in the base. A few demons, clearly wary of the Army base, made a half-hearted attack on the truck as it passed but Sam could see that they were too occupied with the coming dawn to pose any great threat. As soon as the truck was in range of the bases’ defenses, the demons drew back.

  Sam got Mike to stop a hundred feet from the main gates. Spotlights played upon the truck from towers dotted around the perimeter. Sam walked towards the gate, hands above his head, passing a sign with ‘Beightler Armory’ written on it. Even though it had a fine layer of dust covering it, Sam could see that someone had made a recent effort to clean it.

  The gate, like the one at the depot was made of heavy wire. It had been strengthened and reinforced by layer upon layer of razor wire that had been made especially for the base. Sam could smell the iron from where he was.

  Sam had been here before and knew some of the men and their commanders, but he wasn’t about to take any risks. Some of the soldiers based here had very nervous trigger fingers. The first whiff of a demon and
they wouldn’t take any chances. As Sam approached the gate, a bright light blazed down upon him, forcing him to squint.

  “Stop right there,” said a voice. Sam did as he was told, keeping his hands where the soldiers could see them.

  “Remove your hood so we can see your face.”

  Sam hesitated. If he removed his hood, everyone would see what he was and that was a closely guarded secret at the base. He didn’t really fancy getting shot after all that he’d been through to get this far.

  “I can’t,” he said.

  Sam heard the tell-tale noise of weapons being cocked and readied. “Remove your hood or we will fire upon you.”

  Sam sighed. He really didn’t have a choice as usual. His hand reached up towards his hood, slowly, ever so slowly, not willing to give the soldiers an excuse to squeeze off a few rounds at him. He knew all their weapons were loaded with iron.

  “That won’t be necessary,” said a commanding voice that Sam recognized. “Soldier, shut off that light.”

  The light immediately disappeared and Sam could see clearly all at once. The gates were open in front of him. An extremely solidly built man of average height and dressed in fatigues walked through the gates and towards Sam. It wasn’t until he got closer that Sam recognized him. Someone he thought dead years ago. Someone he had long thought he would never see again.

  Adam.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beightler Armory

  “For false Christs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and miracles to deceive even the elect--if that were possible.” Matthew: 24

  For a moment, neither man moved or spoke. For Sam, a variety of emotions were competing for attention - elation and confusion being the primary ones. While he didn’t know for sure, Sam had long suspected that Adam had been taken to Hell, especially after what he’d discovered at Black Ridge almost three years earlier. And three years was such a long time. What on Earth had happened to him?