Autumn's Calling (Book 2): The Battle

by Michelle Weese

  I settled my sights on each of them. Judging their response to Jess’ crazy suggestion. The kids held back so much excitement from the phrase “treehouse”, that I thought they would spontaneously combust. A treehouse was a strange place to hole up with six people, but when your options keep burning to the ground, you don’t have many impressive choices left.

  “If you all agree, then it works for me,” I said at last.

  “Fine with me,” Mom said

  “Me too,” Leland agreed.

  I glanced at the kids and worked hard to hold back the smile I wanted to give them as they twitched with anticipation. “Final say so lies with you two. What do you think, kiddos?”

  Benji let out a squeal and shouted, “Yes, yes, yes. I wanna go to the treehouse!”

  “Absolutely yes! I haven’t been in a treehouse for so long,” Vicki giggled with sheer enthusiasm.

  “Well, that settles that.”

  So we continued along the overgrown and snow covered trail they all took during their mission to rescue me. Leland figured if they tried to reach me by car, he would become stuck in the icy old dirt road, and we would all be out of luck. Also, he didn’t want to create any noise that would draw Alastor’s attention to them. Parking in the driveway and honking the horn in front of the house you’re attempting to free someone from wasn’t exactly the most practical approach. Kind of like when the cops are pursuing a suspect and use the megaphone to announce their arrival, providing the perpetrator with the chance to escape through the rear exit of the house he’s hiding in. But hell, I’m not a cop, so what do I know?

  It was about a twenty-minute hike through the frozen tundra. We had to stop twice because the kids were exhausted. After the second break, Leland and I offered piggy-back rides to them and they gladly accepted. I lifted Benji onto my back and his tiny arms and legs latched onto me like a baby monkey on his mother’s back. Leland squatted down on the balls of his feet. Vicki climbed onto his broad backside and mimicked Benji. We didn’t hear another peep from them after that.

  The sight of Leland’s car, parked on the snow dusted asphalt, filled my heart with joy. He tapped the remote start on his key chain, as we neared within fifty-feet of it, and the engine roared to life with a hungry growl. I never dreamed I would hear that sound again. It’s funny when you are taken away from the daily sights, sounds and sensations of life, how soon you learn to appreciate them when you are fortunate enough to experience it again. Like taking a hot shower. Smelling coffee brewing in the morning. The hum of your vehicle as you routinely drive to work. Seeing the happy innocence of a child in what we used to call the normal world. It all became sentimental when it was stripped away.

  Benji wiggled on my back for me to set him on his feet and took off toward the car so fast, chunks of snow flew through the air in his wake. Vicki followed but restrained from running in the snow. They climbed into the backseat, scooted to the middle and fastened their seatbelts into place. The scene produced a chuckle from me. There was nothing stopping these kids from getting to the treehouse Jess promised them.

  It was a tight squeeze, but Mom and Jess climbed in the back on the outside of each kid, while I sat down in the front passenger seat. The heater was already warming up, and felt incredible. Anything above twenty degrees was pleasing in my eyes. Leland hopped in the driver’s seat and cast a smile that carried a thousand words at me. The expression of gratefulness rested in those turquoise eyes. I knew that look, because I wore it as well. Words cannot express the emotions you encounter when you believe all hope is lost, then in the blink of an eye, you find out hope is not lost. It just had to be found.

  He placed his hand against my frozen cheek. I reacted with a nuzzle and sigh of contentment. The fantasies of his touch, when shackled and degraded, didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. His warm soft hand caressing my cold and dirty flesh was better than I could ever imagine. I never wanted to forget the sensation.

  “Shall we?” he asked with a crooked smile.

  “We shall,” I replied.

  So he put the car in drive and we weaved a path through the snow. As we drove away, I gazed into the rearview mirror and pondered on all we had come through. It truly requires faith and the love of your family to survive the new cruel world. For those left out there alone. I pray they press onward and continue the fight. That they somehow find people that will stand shoulder to shoulder in combat with them. I had a small taste of what being alone was like, and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy… if I had one.

  Chapter 22

  The master of the underworld grimaced as Alastor knelt before him. He wanted nothing more than to toss him into the fiery core of his kingdom and see him writhe in agony for eternity. But after great consideration, he decided to keep him close and learn the information he required to complete world domination. The young woman, Autumn, would remain on his watch list until he formulated the perfect plan. She was too powerful to disregard and cast aside like a mundane. No, he would observe from afar and figure out his course of action. He desired to convert the beautiful girl into something evil. Then she would be willing to follow his command and unleash the power that would force the humans to bow to him. They would worship him in place of the Lord of Light.

  He smiled with razor sharp fangs as he imagined the entire population, dead and living, kneeling to his every word. Alastor continued to cower at the foot of the throne. The dark lord placed his staff under the chin of the trembling demon and urged his head up so he could see his eyes. The demon was terribly scarred and disfigured from the flames eating away sections of his flesh. Utter defeat jaded his appearance. He was no longer the confident beast that exposed himself to the humans. Now he was just an ugly creature that failed to complete the task he started. So the master would complete his work for him, and it would have been all for nothing. Because in the end, he will not be the one reigning over the earth, but the black lord would dismiss all the hard work he put in and bask in the triumph for himself.

  “My dear, Alastor. Why have you betrayed my trust in you? Have I not given you the existence you longed for?” the master questioned.

  “Yes, my lord. I made an ignorant choice and I expect to pay greatly for it,” Alastor replied while averting his eyes from direct contact.

  “Very well. I will grant you mercy, since you are my most prized progeny, but you will unquestionably receive some aspect of retribution in the near future. Now leave my sight while I determine the proper discipline for you.”

  Two black shadows moved forward and jerked Alastor up by his arms. He cringed in misery as they wrenched at his seared flesh. Once he healed and gained his strength back, he would return to his spirit form. As a phantom cannot be physically touched, therefore they do not feel pain. The demons drove him along the rocky platform until they reached a tunnel, then shoved him in a holding cell with sharpened barbs on the gate pointing inwards toward the prisoner. He slammed into the rear wall hard and fell to the floor composed of iron. The one element that was quite uncomfortable to demons. His body ached from coming into contact with it. He climbed to his feet and caught the two demons hovering right outside of his cell. Red eyes fixated on him and for the first time he recognized shame. The demons cackled at him when they noticed his embarrassment. Menacing laughter invaded the tunnel and offended his hearing.

  Alastor realized he felt different from before his journey to the world above. He was weak. The human he possessed when reaching the coveted planet seemed to leave a lasting impression on him. Spending too much time in a different form can modify the perception of the original. Maybe he had gained human sensitivity when acquiring the traveler’s body. Before escaping the underworld, he never knew why mortals exuded such emotion to all things around them. Now he understood the awareness they were cursed with. Their senses were set on high levels. The host transferred some of that receptivity to Alastor during his guardianship of the figure. He pleaded for the demons to leave and allow his ears a release from their in
cessant screeching.

  After some time, they grew bored with harassing him and drifted off. His thoughts ran away with him and he pictured Autumn. Even though she deceived him, a yearning for her lingered. The tiny ounce of humanity he contracted latched onto the crude sentiment he established for the young woman. He knew she would forever hold hatred toward him, and he also knew he deserved her hatred. In his own greed, he refused to recognize that she was not destined to become an evil being to stand beside him. Her soul was too pure. No matter how hard he tried, she would have never surrendered to his intentions and transform into the mate he had hoped for. So for the time being, he would remain in confinement, and pay for the heinous crimes he committed until the master deemed him worthy of release. He acknowledged that any verdict brought against him was fully deserved. But Alastor will never be sorry for the plague he unleashed. For if he never followed through with his plan, he would have never met the woman that will forever hold his cold, black heart.

  Epilogue

  A spark of life transmitted through the gray matter buried inside the rotting skulls of the dead. With the initial flare to jumpstart the bodies into action, the next occurrence in succession was the unforgivable hunger awakening with the bellies of the fiends. All over the country, diseased bodies twitched as the tiny spark fired a signal to their extremities that they needed to become mobile again. When the leader left this realm, they were thrown into a dormant stage. One they shouldn’t have returned from. But a hint of power reanimated the corpses, and they arose from the spot they collapsed to when all connection disappeared between master and servant. A taste of the same energy, that drove them to rise and walk, flowed through them once more. But this time the power structure was different. It contained a distinctive flavor of authority. A benevolent force.

  Each of the fallen climbed to their feet and started an aimless journey throughout the planet. Until they got a direct order from the new leader, they carried nothing but a fierce appetite that would never be satiated. As the undead shuffled around in pursuit of the remedy to numb their craving for flesh, more lives will be taken, and the army of biters will continue to grow exponentially.

  The current master did not understand she held the key to controlling the outcome of this scourge unleashed upon the earth. She will soon learn, when the former master was expelled from the earthly dimension, the proverbial torch was passed to her. Because she contained the only demon blood on earth. Not an abundant supply, but sufficient enough to transmit the call to the dead to rise up and continue their purpose. The living remaining would be extinguished within a few months. She would need to discover the process to achieve complete control over the situation or watch everyone around her parish at the hands of Alastor’s soldiers.

  Luna had been accurate in her words of wisdom to the new leader. The fair skinned beauty carried a power within that was on the verge of awakening. She simply had to reach inside herself and seize it. That flicker of energy is what attracted the demon to her in the first place. She was a walking beacon for the supernatural and would improve in strength as time goes by. But time was not on her side, so the revelation of her newfound calling would need to reveal itself sooner rather than later. She had the potential to bring the apocalypse to an end and save what is left of the living, or abuse her power and watch the universe fade away.

  While they awaited direct orders, the zombies feasted on anything that moved, but the supply of living presences was dwindling. Eventually, the earth would be a dead planet. Nothing will remain except the braindead husks of what mankind used to be. It was up to the new master to devise a plan and take action. But she needed to do something soon. Otherwise, there will be nothing left to save.

  Books by this author:

  Autumn’s Calling: The Outbreak

  Autumn’s Calling: The Battle

  About the author

  Michelle Weese, 31 years old, independent author and floral designer. Independent in every way possible.

  I hope you have enjoyed the second installment of my imaginary universe of the Autumn Series. In the real world, I live a quiet, simple life at home in the always sunny Daytona Beach, FL with my husband of 10 years, Daniel Weese, and my fat, lazy housecats. My full-time career as a floral designer takes most of my time, but I developed a passion for writing back in the summer of 2015. I have always had an appetite for horror, whether it be books, movies, tv shows, and anything to do with Halloween, (my absolute favorite time of year). I acquired a love for the creepy, scary, and terrifying rush you get from reading when I picked up my first Stephen King novel, Misery. From that point on, I was hooked. Not only do I read horror books, I own quite the collection of horror movies that I can't seem to part with no matter how many times I watch them. I anticipate hearing from you, the reader, through an honest review. And trust you can feel the fascination I have with the exquisite genre of horror within the pages of my books, and the journey through the terrifying world I have created.

  Happy reading!