Paraptome realized it had failed and growled horribly as it released Leech, throwing his soul aside and violently exiting his body. It turned, faced Leech, and with all its fury it screamed at him, baring its huge fangs. Then it took its clawed hand and swung it, intersecting with Leech’s body before Paraptome opened its huge wings and flew out of the church.
Leech felt a surge of vertigo and nausea. His mind seemed somehow disconnected and it was all he could do to scramble to his feet and run down the center aisle out of the almost-empty church into the crowded foyer. He thrust people aside violently as he forced his way through them.
Pastor Tim decided not to pursue Leech. Instead, he hurried to Mark’s side. Kathy was already crouched next to him, as was John.
She was crying miserably, “Mark, Mark!”
Through glazed eyes, he saw her shock and misery and said, “I love you.”
“Mark! Honey.” She was now sobbing, “No, no, no!”
“I love you.”
She kneeled over him and cried while saying his name, “Mark.”
Pastor Tim pulled Mark’s shirt away from the bullet wound. Blood was oozing from his stomach, forming a small puddle on the floor.
Mark winced in pain and put his hand to his stomach, then looked at the blood running down his own wrist.
Kathy had begun to cry and her tears fell on Mark’s shirt. “Mark, you’re going to be okay. Don’t worry, baby, you’re going to be fine.”
Mark dropped his bloodied hand to his side. He closed his eyes and went limp.
“No!” screamed Kathy, as she fell onto his chest. “No! Mark!
Tim was on his knees next to him. John, too, knelt down beside Mark, putting one hand on Kathy and the other on his son-in-law.
***
Paraptome propelled itself above the church sanctuary into the air where the demons were waiting. They swarmed en masse. Some were unaware of its failure. They quickly found out when it turned on them, entering their swarming mass, and with a single blow, felled three. The rest scattered. It twisted around to find Sotare.
The angel, small by comparison, was at a safe distance, waiting to see what the principality would do, hoping to draw it away. He did not want to fight this mighty opponent, as he was no match for its power. The best he could do was flee. But the adversary’s speed and strength meant he would certainly be caught.
Paraptome scanned the sky intently. Finding Sotare, it shrieked with loathing, leaned forward, and bolted towards the angel. Sotare turned and flapped his wings as rapidly as he could. With Paraptome following him, it couldn’t harm anyone else. Sotare moved through the air as fast as he could, beating his wings hard, narrowing them, and slicing through the wind with incredible speed. But the monster was gaining quickly. It growled and narrowed its eyes as it quickly closed the distance.
Suddenly, Paraptome’s rapid movements faltered and its eyes opened wide. It seemed to struggle in the air. It roared once again, but this was not a howl of anger. It was a cry of terror. As if jerked by a chain from below, Paraptome suddenly disappeared down into the earth.
***
Leech dashed through the parking lot. The chain-link fence was about forty feet away. He held his ribs and winced at every step, gritting his teeth, forcing breath through his tight lips. Saliva spattered out of his mouth. There was no stopping now. He weaved around two cars and, empowered by adrenaline, he jumped towards the top of the fence, where he tried to lunge over, but his shirt snagged on something sharp. He lost his balance, slipped, and gashed his side open on an exposed piece of thick wire. Blood spurted from the wound.
He twisted his face into a contortion of pain and then forced himself to look at his side. A piece of barbed wire was embedded between his ribs and the slightest movement sent shards of pain stabbing into his side. He knew he had no choice but to get himself free as quickly as possible, so he jerked hard and ripped himself free. An explosion of pain almost caused him to pass out, as he plunged to the ground and collapsed in a heap. The bloody wound throbbed mercilessly and it was all he could do to make himself get up and hobble, hunched over, down the alley to the car. He ran, staggered, and then stumbled to the ground. He shook his head hard, then looked at the bloodied hand with which he was holding his side. He forced himself up and managed to keep his balance as he headed for the car.
He grunted in pain as he sat in the driver’s seat and bent over to connect the wires. After a few seconds, the engine revved to life and he shifted the car into drive. He punched the accelerator.
Blood spilled on the seat and his wet hands spread it on the steering wheel. Nervously, he glanced in the rear view mirror, then leaned into the turnout of the alley. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing red all over himself.
The warm fluid seeped down his side and into his underpants. He clutched his side with one hand, and drove with the other, wincing and groaning repeatedly as he forced air through clenched teeth, enduring the pain that each erratic breath produced.
He was lightheaded, but something else was wrong. Something inside didn’t feel right. It was as if he was somehow out of sync with his body. Everything around him seemed disconnected.
He turned a corner, shook his head, and glanced in the rear view mirror. The distance wasn’t right, or was it the mirror? He looked ahead. It must be the shock from his injuries.
A fresh surge of pain helped him focus, but only momentarily. His mind began to waver, to disconnect again. He shook his head vigorously and took another nervous glance in the mirror.
He tried to concentrate. He blinked hard and groaned from the pain.
His senses—something was wrong with them. They seemed to fade in and out. Was it because of the blood loss? It had to be.
He checked his wound. Blood was oozing out through his fingers with every pounding pulse of pain.
His mind felt…he couldn’t put it into words. It was odd, different. Focus, he thought. Focus! The street turned hazy and the car veered to the left. He tried to correct and overcompensated. With another correction he managed to keep the car on the road. He shook his head hard and blinked forcibly, trying to see what was ahead of him.
His arms felt heavy. They moved only with great effort. Then he noticed that his legs weren’t working right. His vision blurred and he shook his head again. He looked at the speedometer. It registered forty, forty-five, then fifty miles per hour. He wanted to slow down, but he couldn’t: fifty-five, sixty, sixty-five miles per hour. His mind wavered and lost its ability to recognize objects. Then to his utter surprise, the pain ceased. Everything went silent and all motion seemed to slow. Leech could see only a vague haze of light and dark shadows that moved by him as he accelerated.
A car swerved to miss him.
Puzzled, helpless, and damaged by Paraptome’s violent dispossession, he was suffering a progressing disconnection from his body. He never saw the large tree he slammed into at eighty miles an hour.
The impact folded the car like an accordion. The crushing, grinding sound of bending metal reverberated through the local buildings, ricocheting down the street. Steam hissed into the air and fuel gushed onto the street. The airbag had deflated but there wasn’t much left of him to matter. Then, without warning, the car erupted into flames. Barely conscious, Leech sensed the flickering light around him. In one last pathetic attempt to grasp for life, his mind forced him to experience the searing pain as his flesh turned to charred blackness. It took only a minute before his squirming and agonizing cries ended and he fell into the grip of death.
But it was not over for him.
Suddenly everything became focused. His mind was clear and alert. There was no pain. He was standing beside the burning vehicle, but he felt no heat. He could see his own body inside the inferno.
Mystified, he stepped away and looked around. Everything was crystal clear. He felt his side. The gash was gone. His ribs didn’t hurt. The fear, the dread, the adrenaline, all of it vanished. In fact, he felt good, surprisingl
y good. What had happened? He looked back at the car then up to the clouds. He checked his side again and seeing no wound, he smiled.
Then the stark truth hit him hard. “I’m dead,” he said in stunned self-realization. “I’m dead.” He looked at the burning car and the people running towards it. No one noticed him. Of course, he thought. They can’t see me.
He laughed and extended his hands outward as he spun around and around. “I’m dead! I’m dead!” He laughed some more as he watched the burning car. His physical body was no longer visible in the blaze.
He felt comfortable and at ease. It was wonderfully bewildering. He smiled. “Being dead ain’t so bad,” he said with a laugh.
He looked at the car and the street and the scrambling people. This was fantastic. There was no pain, no pain at all. “Ha ha!” he laughed again and checked his side. There was no wound. “Yes! This is great!”
A growl rumbled from behind him. Turning, his jubilation was instantly erased by the sight of the large muscular creature that sat on the ground, resting on its hind legs. It was staring at him. Leech had never seen anything like it. He stepped back, instinctively. It crept forward. Leech stepped back again. It moved forward again.
The creature had massive, powerfully muscled shoulders. Its head was flattened slightly and resembled a dog’s, but without hair. It had huge jaws and fangs. Red eyes glared from deeply set sockets in its skull. Its ribcage was bony, covered with skin so tight and thin that Leech could see into its chest. Large draping sheets of what appeared to be leather fell from its back onto the ground and Leech could only conclude they were wings. Its feet had long claws that curved downward, partially disappearing into the pavement. Then Leech noticed a tail slowly sliding across the ground behind it.
It glared at him. Leech stepped back again.
The creature crouched on its huge hind legs. Leech could tell they were tense, ready to spring.
He opened his eyes wide and stopped breathing as he took another step backwards, ready to run.
The creature hunched on its rear legs and opened its jaws slightly. Leech could see a row of dagger-like fangs. It crouched a little deeper and that was when he realized that it was going to pounce. Leech turned and bolted, but the demon launched itself through the air and in an instant was upon him. It snarled as it latched onto his neck and its claws shredded his flesh. It tossed him in the air and clamped down on his chest with its powerful jaws. Fangs pierced his torso and ripped into his lungs. Leech managed a muffled scream of terrified agony.
The creature shook him violently and Leech could hear the sound of his own bones breaking. Then, the demon stopped.
Leech fell limp. He tried to scream but nothing would come out of his broken and shredded body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t cry, couldn’t even manage a moan through his excruciating pain.
The creature remained still. Then the piercing, unbearable agony of ripped flesh and broken bones subsided for a moment and briefly disappeared before it was replaced by an equally intense misery that accompanied his body’s rapid healing. The pain revisited him with a vengeance and through it Leech somehow managed to cough up a single agonized whimper. The creature jerked him into the air slightly and bit down hard. Leech could feel its fangs in his neck, scratching against his vertebrae. He tried weakly to pull free but it was to no avail. It bit down again and Leech’s body convulsed under the new pain.
The creature then growled in low rumble, bowed low, and dropped downward, dragging Leech with it into the darkness of the earth.
In the grip of this monster, and its quick descent, Leech realized that hell awaited him. He tried in vain to scream again and somehow squirm free. But it was useless. The creature and the man plummeted rapidly through the darkness, propelled by the demon’s flapping wings. Their speed increased as they fell downward, further and further into the darkness.
Leech tried again to scream but his throat was pierced by a fang and nothing but a gurgle of noise emerged. He tried to free himself from the unholy grip of his captor with a feeble movement of his arm. The demon responded by taking a free hand and ripping Leech’s chest open. He jerked in searing agony and then fell silent and motionless. Then, in another horrendous repetition of the agony, his chest began to heal on its own, sending shards of intense pain throughout his body.
Suddenly, the pain was gone. Leech looked into the eyes of his tormentor. The putrid breath of the demon raked across his face.
The creature slowly growled with a low rumble.
Please no, thought Leech.
The demon stared deeply into his eyes. Then, it reached with its other claw, and tore Leech’s chest open once more. Rivers of agony enveloped him. A weak and muffled scream was all his mangled carcass could feebly manage. Then he began to heal once more and the throbbing agony in his body was repeated.
This went on, over and over, until finally they fell into a vast cavern, where a sudden and powerful stench forced Leech to involuntarily convulse. He tried to refuse to breathe. He tried to pass out. It was useless. The permeating filth clogged his senses. He choked and convulsed again.
Below him was the reflected light of fires bouncing off the walls. The demon swooped lower and with great speed released Leech, who fell headlong into some jagged rocks. It was a crushing impact. Racked with thudding pain, he tumbled downward, slamming against more rocks, falling limply, sliding, grinding, until he at last came to rest, but not before there was a final, colossal blow to his stomach, which ripped open and spilled his intestines onto the ground. He was face up, conscious, unable to move, unable to groan, completely incapacitated by the trauma and pain…and he was fully awake. That is when he realized he couldn’t pass out. He would always be conscious.
All he could do was watch as a host of hideous creatures closed around him. Then his body began the healing again. His screams echoed in The Cavern.
***
Fortunately, the paramedics were close by. The call to 911 had gone out quickly, and within minutes, the police arrived. They searched the area thoroughly for Leech and after making sure he was gone and that there weren’t any other gunmen, they let the paramedics do their job. They hurried through the church doors to the small collection of people that were huddled around Mark. He was lying in a small pool of blood on the carpet.
They put their equipment down and kneeled over him. Kathy withdrew reluctantly, held back a little by Pastor Tim. John was praying.
One of the paramedics quickly checked Mark’s pulse and breathing.
He was unconscious but alive.
“What happened?” asked the other.
“He was shot in the stomach,” said Pastor Tim.
The first paramedic cut open Mark’s shirt. Blood was oozing out of his stomach. The other looked at Kathy. “Are you his wife?”
She whimpered when she saw the wound and put her hands to her mouth. “Yes.” The answered was muffled.
“Does he have any allergies to any medicines?”
“No,” she responded.
“Has he had any recent surgeries?”
“No. No.” She shook her head.
The first paramedic was kneeling in Mark’s blood. The other had unpacked some saline solution and two large-bore needles. He shoved them into Mark’s veins.
“Ma’am,” said the first. “We’re using saline to keep his blood pressure up. We’re going to transport him to the hospital in the ambulance.
Kathy was sobbing on the floor next to him, saying his name over and over again.
Pastor Tim gently held onto her, trying to give the paramedics room to work. She resisted and began to cry harder.
John could only watch, helpless to do anything. He held Kathy’s hand in one and Mark’s in another. He prayed.
She sobbed, “No. No. Please don’t let…” The lights seemed to fade. Kathy grew heavy and slowly began to collapse. John gently lowered her to the floor, ignoring the pain in his side.
Within minutes the paramedics had moved Mark into the
ambulance and were on their way. Pastor Tim waited for Kathy to get back on her feet so he could drive her to the hospital.
***
Mark opened his eyes. Above him the fluorescent ceiling lights glared hard. There were monitors on a wall and on the other side of a large glass window he could see a woman with a stethoscope around her neck. He was in a hospital. It looked like an emergency room. What was going on? He felt numb and confused. He looked around.
It all came back to him in a flash—the gunman, Kathy, the struggle. He had been shot. He checked his stomach and didn’t find any wound.
Bewildered, he looked around and that is when he saw himself on the gurney. But he was standing up. He checked his stomach again and then looked back at his body and the people around him in white uniforms moving quickly. The woman doctor rushed into the room and a nurse began to fill her in. The commotion seemed surreal. Blood pooled in small puddles onto the floor.
Wait, it was making sense now. He was shot. Was he dead? He defied the idea. “No,” he said aloud. “I’m not dead. I’m not dead.”
He looked at the people. “I’m not dead!” he said loudly.
But he knew instinctively they wouldn’t hear him.
Then he heard voices. He turned and had a strong urge to walk towards them. But he resisted. He turned back to his body on the gurney and noticed that they all began to fade as if the light was turned down.
Then came the voices again. This time he knew he was supposed to go. Mark walked towards it, through a door. Wait, how did he know to walk through a door without opening it?
John, Pastor Tim, and Kathy were all in a waiting room. She was bent over in a chair, crying. John had his arm around her. His eyes were closed and he was praying.
He moved towards them and noticed that his movement wasn’t weighted by his body. It seemed almost effortless.
“I’m here,” he said to her. “Kathy, it’s me.”
The Influence (Supernatural Thriller) Page 30