The Color of Gothic

by Joel Q. Aaron

  Jerry aimed his pistol at one, then another. “I can’t count them all.”

  “You keeping a tally?” András Kovách laughed, then started shooting anything that moved.

  Blair shut down his conscience, took a deep breath, and let it out. He’d learned not to think about the gunfight. Some men cower at the fear of being shot. Scared men hesitate, think too much of their own mortality. Blair had grown apathetic about his life, removing the fear of death—creating a killing machine.

  Blair engaged the horde of possessed men, moving toward them, shooting and killing. All feeling, emotional and physical, left his mind and body. Heightened, his vision and hearing enhanced his coordination. The Remingtons were an intimate extension of his hands—flesh and metal were one. A subconscious act, aiming and firing were natural. Deadly.

  Mr. Tab tossed a limp body to the side. “They are strong.” The angel did not spend the time to remove the demons. He slew the possessed humans with his bare hands, snapping necks and squeezing hearts. “Don’t falter.”

  Jerry found a good-sized boulder to give him cover. He was on his fourth pistol. András Kovách emptied his two pistols and dropped them next to the one-armed shooter. The Hungarian unslung a heavy ax with a blade that would make a lumberjack jealous. The stout man swung the ax with both hands, wreaking damage to flesh and bone.

  Stone remained hidden, but his voice echoed in the dark. “It is no use. You will surely die in here.”

  The angel let out a deep yell and thrust against the possessed with his heavenly power. Mr. Tab cleared an area in front of him—the live and the dead slid and tumbled out of his way. Several creatures slammed against the wall. Jerry took advantage of the dazed and fired from his fifth and sixth pistol.

  Blair was relentless. Death followed his movements.

  András Kovách’s ax split a vampire skull in half. The left side of its brain fell on his foot. The Hungarian kicked it off, hitting Jerry in his chest. The brain hit like a wet sponge, sticking to his shirt for a moment.

  “That’s disgusting,” he yelled back.

  András Kovách swung again. The blade stopped in midair. Daniel Stone held out his empty hand like he was holding a heavy object. Stone jerked his hand down. András Kovách crashed to the ground from the force. With supernatural will, the superintendent commanded the ax from across the cavern, yanking it out of Kovách’s grip. The ax floated in the air, spun around and soared at the Hungarian. He ducked clear. The ax hit a stalactite. The Hungarian, defenseless, charged Stone. The demon took the hit without budging.

  Stone lifted Kovách by the front of his jacket. “Humans—a plague worse than locusts.”

  The ax came spinning back, lodging its blade into Kovách’s upper spine. The Hungarian cried out in pain. Stone threw his limp body down.

  With arms up and out, Mr. Tab stepped toward Stone. A building wind blew through the cavern. The earth vibrated as two invisible forces collided against one another between the two fallen angels. Dust and rocks whirled in the air.

  Blair and Jerry continued to shoot the remaining possessed miners. The one-armed man tossed his seventh gun and pulled number eight.

  Blair reloaded, exchanging cylinders without thought. His fingers—numb to the heat coming off the spent shells and pistols—moved quickly, efficiently.

  Three possessed men attacked Mr. Tab, ripping and tearing at his clothes and flesh. One sunk its teeth into the angel’s shoulder. The creatures dragged him to his knees. He strained to keep his arms up.

  Blair put a bullet in the head of one of the vampires. Jerry shot another, twice, in the chest. The creature stumbled. Jerry shot him again.

  Darkness seeped from the Superintendent’s body, overpowering the beaten angel. Stone supernaturally lifted Tab then slammed him against the left wall then the right. Tab bled.

  Stone crowed, “It is finished.” He hurled the angel up in the air, piercing the side of his stomach with a stalactite. Mr. Tab hung there frantically trying to grasp the smooth rock. His fingernails could find no hold. The angel fell to the ground and bounced.

  Blair shot the last miner in the heart. The evil soaking the cavern changed as he died. All the wickedness came from Stone.

  Jerry put a bullet in the superintendent’s thigh. With a twist of the demon’s wrist, Jerry flew across the cavern head first into a boulder. He rolled off without a noise.

  Blair faced Stone alone.

  “Here we are again.” Blair counted the bullets left in his guns, five—two in his left, three in his right and a full one in his belt.

  “I should have killed you in Mexico,” the demon inside Stone said. “I relished your pain too much to end the fun.”

  “We all make mistakes.” Blair moved to his left.

  “Your mistake was not being there for those children when they needed you. But that’s a pattern in your life, isn’t it? Letting children die?”

  The words stung worse than bullets.

  “I didn’t let any of them die.”

  “Please, no excuses. You and that God of yours, allowing such horrors. Pain, death, and sorrow follow your footsteps. The sadness is unbearable. But you, you Mr. Blair, transformed that sadness into what created it—continuing the circle of wickedness.” Stone grinned. “Enjoying my kingdom? Hell has plenty of room. The cross was never meant for men like you, with hearts overflowing with evil.”

  “I’m not part of you.”

  “You are me.” Stone rolled his head as if he was popping his neck. “This time, I get the town, the souls and your life.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” Blair raised his pistols and pulled the triggers.

  The guns didn’t fire. Blair squeezed again and again. He counted correctly, there was live ammo in the cylinders.

  Stone laughed as he held up his hands.

  Blair’s hammers weren’t releasing. He dropped one pistol and fanned the hammer of the other with the edge of his palm. Nothing.

  Stone roared with laughter. “And you are supposed to be the one who defeats me.”

  The demon shoved Blair back. He landed hard in the pile of rubble blocking the tunnel. With flicks of his fingers, Stone sent rocks flying at Blair. He ducked, but the barrage pelted him. Struck in the head, Blair fought to keep from losing consciousness. His vision blurred and his balance wobbled. He rolled to the ground as he held his head. Warm blood oozed through his fingers. Stay awake. Stay awake.

  “What makes you think you can stand against me? You are nothing more than a selfish killer. Turning your back on God and humanity, what kind of pastor are you?” Stone moved closer. He yelled loud enough to shake the dust. “You are me.”

  The words echoed through the underground chamber and rattled in Blair’s soul.

  He picked Blair up by the back of the neck and brought him face to face. “Stay in your place, faithless one. Stay in that pit of sin.” He flung him into the rubble.

  Blair coughed. He spit out a mouth full of blood. Then he chuckled. A smirk came to his face—not one of joy or happiness.

  “What?”

  The flash of memory hit Blair in the heart—a vision of a summer sunrise coming through the window of their small kitchen. Morning smells flowed from the wood stove—a pot of coffee and a batch of biscuits. On the table, canned strawberry jam and honey waited for the hot treats. Jessica sat there in her apron, which was covered in white flour. Her eyes rested on dark circles. Two lanterns and a candle were still lit, signs she had been awake before dawn.

  “How long have you been up?” Jonathan asked.

  “A few hours. Did I wake you?”

  He shook his head, then inhaled the smell of the baking bread. He smiled. She did not return the expression.

  “You okay?” He sat down across from her and reached for her hand. The sunlight highlighted the outline of her long, dark-brown hair. A smudge of flour clung to her cheek, contrasting with her sun-worked tan skin.

  “I am now.” Jessica squeezed his fingers. “I had a strange dr
eam.”

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  “Hold on.” She peeked in the cast iron stove. “Just about done.”

  She poured a cup of coffee for him and placed the tin cup on the table next to a small stack of porcelain plates. As he added a spoonful of honey to his coffee, she pulled the biscuits from the fire. Blair cut open four, letting the steam rise before adding the jam and honey.

  “Last night I had a dream about you.” She kept her hazel eyes pointed in every direction but his. “I’ve never had a dream like this one. It was just you, running. You ran through a dark creepy forest, like out of some Grimms’ Fairy Tale.”

  Jonathan licked the honey off the side of his hand below his pinky. “What was I running from?”

  “I don’t know. You never looked back toward the light. You kept running. The forest got darker, and then you fell in a pit.” She stopped and stared out the window.

  “Jessica?”

  “The pit was evil. You just sat there like you were in a bath. After a long time, you stood up and rested your arms on the top of the pit, like you were leaning on the top rung of a tall fence. You couldn’t decide to stay or get out. A man dressed in black stood a few feet from the pit talking to you. I didn’t hear the actual words he spoke. I could feel them. He told you to stay in there because that’s where you belonged.”

  “Anybody I know?” Jonathan asked.

  She shook him off. “That’s when the kids and I started cheering for you. We were like people at a horserace yelling, screaming, jumping up and down, and pulling for you to climb out. The more that man talked, the more we cheered.”

  “So you were there?”

  “No. It was like we were watching from above.”

  “Were you hiding in a tree?”

  “Jon.”

  She had that tone, the one that said you crossed the wrong line. He thought he was funny; she usually didn’t.

  “Sorry.”

  “I guess you finally heard us, because you started to climb. But the pit tried to hold you in. It began to close. The man started yelling louder. It was like if you stayed in there, you were going to die or become evil. So we got louder. You reached the rim of the pit, then the man kicked you back in. We kept cheering.”

  Tears built up in her eyes.

  “You climbed out and punched the guy, but it wasn’t a punch with a fist. He disappeared. Then you dusted yourself off and you changed. But not really. You looked the same, but you were different. Like you were before.”

  Jessica wiped a tear away. “I have never been as proud of you, as when you made it out. I felt bad for you when you ran. Got mad at you for being in the pit. Then so proud at the end. It woke me up. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I came in here to make some biscuits.”

  “Where were you and the kids at the end?”

  “We watched you walk off into a bright light. We couldn’t go with you. But we were all smiling.”

  Jonathan sat at the table eating another biscuit dripping with jam and honey as he replayed the story in his head. “I can’t imagine me being stuck in a pit of sin or being without you. Baby, it was only a dream.”

  Only a dream. One of the many prophetic dreams Jessica had the year before she was murdered. His family smiling at him brought him true happiness for the first time since their deaths.

  “What is it?” Stone asked again. “You seem cheerful for a man who is about to spend eternity in hell.”

  Blair slowly stood to his feet. “That’s a trip I think you’ll be making on your own.” His spine and shoulder hurt. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling the fresh blood sticking to his hair. His left knee popped when he took a step. “I am not my sin.”

  Stone’s face turned stoic. “What?”

  “I am not my sin.” Blair emphasized each word slowly.

  “Your arrogance is showing, Preacher Man.”

  “Arrogance or faith.”

  Stone laughed. “Maybe it is denial. It’s all the same to you bags of flesh. You cannot defeat me.”

  Blair took a step toward him. “I don’t have to. Remember? That was already done.”

  “That was nearly two thousand years ago. But we are still here.”

  “To steal, kill, and destroy.” The bounty hunter took another step toward Stone. “I want my life back,” Blair yelled as he drew the pistol from his belt, fanning the hammer while he held down the trigger. Six shots blasted through the cavern, each finding a place in Stone’s torso.

  The creature screamed as it jolted backward. “Bullets can’t stop me.”

  “But I know what can.”

  Mr. Tab moved to within striking distance. The angel leaped from behind Stone, plunging his hands into the demon’s back. Stone’s chest bowed as the angel took hold of the dark shadow within.

  Blair picked up one of his other pistols and took careful aim at Stone’s head. He waited.

  Mr. Tab’s eyes glowed gold as a white light seeped from his pores illuminating the cavern. The demon convulsed and spun around to shake off the angel. Mr. Tab held on. His skin and clothes faded against the light, revealing his true form. At the same time Stone’s skin turned gray as the shadow fought to stay in control of Stone.

  “Shoot him,” the angel ordered.

  Blair fired one shot, hitting Stone in the forehead. The demon squealed as Mr. Tab wrenched it from Daniel Stone’s flesh.

  Both the angel and the demon seemed to grow as their natural bodies filled out. Blair could see the resemblance between the two hosts from heaven—once brothers, now enemies. The angel was at least eight feet tall with feathered wings spanning three times his height. His iridescent bronze skin contrasted with the demon’s dull gray physique. The wings of the demon were of similar size, but the feathers were more like scales. The angel’s face was human-like, but had no solid form. The demon’s narrow eyes and thin mouth resembled a serpent.

  Blair could feel the wind as the angel’s wings pulsed, forcing the demon into the air. With each flap the demon’s hold on Stone grew weaker.

  Blair fired again, hitting Stone in the side of the head above his elongated ear. Stone’s carcass went limp. The angel yanked out the demon. The feathered wings beat feverishly, thrusting air and dust into small tornados.

  Blair could feel the atmosphere changing. The area below the fighting angels blurred. He could see a new, barren landscape forming inside the visual distortion, like another world breaking into this realm. Intense heat emanated from this other dimension.

  The angel’s radiance intensified until Blair could no longer watch. He lifted his hands to block the sun-like brilliance. White light filled the cavern as a tangible force, pressed against the rock walls. The earth shook. Stalactites fell from the ceiling. The sound of rock grinding against rock within the earth covered all other noise.

  The supernatural forces inside the cavern climaxed sending Blair somersaulting against a boulder.

  * * *

  Jonathan Blair awoke to silence and still air. His body hurt to move, but he was in one piece, unbroken. A fissure in the rock wall cut the cavern’s darkness. A narrow beam of sunlight seeped in enough to brighten the cave and show the tunnel was clear of debris.

  He instinctively found his pistols and exchanged loaded cylinders.

  Daniel Stone lay on the ground with his eyes and mouth open. No blood oozed from the wounds in his pale skin. Blair kicked the body. Instead of feeling for a heartbeat, he found András Kovách’s ax. He held the blade high to cut off Stone’s head, just to be sure. But he lowered the ax and tossed it on the body. He wasn’t possessed, nor were any of the other victims. The demons were gone—taken to hell or fleeing the mountains.

  The angel left no sign of its existence or of the demon.

  Blair checked András Kovách. He was dead.

  A noise startled Blair. A second later he held a pistol.

  “Don’t shoot,” Jerry hollered.

  “You’re alive.”

  “I hurt too much to be
dead.” The one-armed man rolled to his side and tried to stand. He winced and settled back to the rocky ground. “I think I’m gonna need some help.”

  “I’ll get you.”

  Jerry brushed the dirt off himself. “We win?”

  “For now.”

  “That’ll work for me.” Jerry studied the collapsed cavern all the way to the new opening in the earth. “What happened?”

  “I don’t really know.” Blair put Jerry’s arm over his shoulder and lifted him by his belt. “I think the angel took the demon to Hell.”

  “Let’s get out of here before they decide to come back.” Jerry checked the cylinder of his last pistol, number eight, and smiled. “One shot left. Remind me to bring an extra gun next time. That’s a bit too close.”

  Blair pointed to the source of the light. “The tunnel or the crack?”

  “You want to go back through there?” Jerry shook his head. “Not this ol’ boy.”

  Footsteps reverberated in the black tunnel.

  Blair let go of Jerry and readied his pistols. Jerry dropped to the floor and grunted. The one-armed man clicked open the cylinder of his pistol and shook out the spent shells and last bullet. He held the barrel between his knees and began reloading.

  “Can you move?”

  “You bet your ass.” Jerry struggled to stand. He limped toward the sun drenched crack in the wall.

  Blair held his ground, aiming two pistols into the darkness.

  The noise grew louder.

  He glanced at Jerry’s progress, which wasn’t going to save him.

  “I see light.” The voice came from the shaft.

  “What’d you say?” Jerry asked.

  Blair took a step toward the tunnel. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Come on,” the voice said.

  Blair cocked his hammers.

  “I see it too,” another man said.

  Three miners entered the cavern. They paused.

  “Hello,” the first man said.

  Blair’s senses didn’t pick up any evil, any spirits. The men were clean. “How many?” Blair responded.