The man took a breath and tried to rub his throat. He looked up at Sam nervously. Sam had never seen him before in his life. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Scruffy blond hair and a tattered jacket that had once been brightly colored gave Sam the impression that this guy had once belonged on the Californian surf beaches and not in New York.
“I’m here to get you out,” he finally blurted out, breathing heavily. “My name’s Travis.”
“Who sent you?”
“Someone who wants to help you. What’s with all the questions, dude? Do you want to get out or don’t you?”
Sam grudgingly took his hand off Travis’s collar. “I want to get out.”
“Right then,” said Travis, starting to sound more confident. He adjusted his collar. “Follow me. Keep quiet.”
“I need my swords and my pack.”
Travis shook his head. “No, you don’t. Not where you’re going. Besides, I wouldn’t have a clue where they are.”
Sam gritted his teeth in frustration. He’d have to get them later, even though he felt uneasy without them. The last few days had been horrible but he comforted himself with the knowledge that they were somewhere nearby. Now he was actually leaving them behind but he couldn’t exactly search this whole building for them. Right now, the important thing was to get out – to make sure that Adam and Colonel Wheat had received the warning. Other considerations – even his swords – were secondary.
Travis led him out of the room, past the guard slumped on the ground. The guard was still breathing, for which Sam was thankful. As a member of the resistance, the man obviously wasn’t in league with the demons and didn’t deserve to die for Sam’s freedom.
He followed Travis on silent feet. He had to hand it to the man – he moved surprisingly well, making almost as little sound as Sam himself. Cautiously they moved through two large rooms. Both of these rooms were filled with glass display cases containing police memorabilia, weapons and evidence from old and probably famous cases. Sam didn’t pay them much attention. Outside the second room, they discovered an emergency exit.
“No-one really uses this,” whispered Travis. “They lead almost straight to an access hatch which will take us to the sewers. They’re not guarded either because they lock from the outside. Once in, you can’t get out. The doors are fire proof – very thick.”
Sam nodded. He still didn’t know why Travis was helping him but he seemed well informed. Travis didn’t seem much of a threat either. Once out of here, Sam could easily overwhelm him.
They entered the emergency exit, closing the door silently behind them. Inside, it was pitch black. Sam was fine – he could still see well enough to negotiate the stairs – but Travis was a different story. Only human, Travis needed artificial illumination.
“Shield your eyes,” said Travis. There was a spark and then a flame as Travis used a lighter to ignite a candle he had produced from his pocket. Holding the candle before him, Travis led the way down the stairs. They descended maybe four flights. Either the building wasn’t very tall or Sam had been held on a lower floor.
They found themselves in a small sub-basement. Two exits led out of the room. One was marked ‘Maintenance’. It was this door that Travis opened with a key. Inside, the room was filled with shelves, all stacked high with what appeared to be cleaning supplies, mops, and plastic containers filled with chemicals. Without a word, Travis led Sam over to a corner, partially blocked and concealed by another shelving rack. Set into the floor of this unobtrusive corner was a large circular metal plate – easily big enough for a man to squeeze through. Sam knew immediately that it was made of iron. Grunting, Travis tried to lift it.
“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 a
sk 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.”
Tribulation Page 24