Purge: Book Three: Last Days Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  Kyle stood there as speechless and silent as Michael. The snippy attitude, irrational rambling, that wasn’t his daughter. Something was wrong, and she wasn’t saying what. The look on Michael’s face all but said how lost and confused he was. Kyle had to admit that he was too.

  Mark Twain National Forest, Missouri

  Devante and his deviant apostles were packing the vans again. The campsite that had been their safe haven from the changeling was dismantled, and workers moved about like drones.

  There was something different about General George Adman. Known as Devante’s silent “left-hand” man, George was more silent than usual. He stood by the lead van, his head moving automatically, left, forward, right, as he watched the other vans.

  Leonard walked with Devante, but kept looking back at George. “You were saying, about the base camps?”

  “Yes,” Devante answered. “A place for our soldiers to know my whereabouts. A place that, if needed, will be our ground for the final battle.”

  “How long do we have until that?” Leonard questioned.

  “Could be days, weeks, even years. Our army grows, and many lives have been lost since the exchange.”

  “You’ll let us know.”

  “I won’t have to. You will...” Devante paused when he caught a glimpse of Lillian standing by a car. “Why is she alone?”

  Leonard shrugged. “Let’s ask her.” He led the way. “Where’s Todd? Aren’t you two supposed to be ready to go?”

  Smugly, Lillian folded her arms. “He doesn’t want to go to Seville.”

  Devante nodded once. “Todd’s hands are my eyes to what I cannot see. He must be creating one more masterpiece for me.”

  Lillian shook her head. “He’s not drawing. He’s staring at his work.”

  “Old work or new?” Devante asked.

  Lillian raised her eyes. “I never look at his work.”

  Devante took a step toward her. “You are fortunate your presence is needed, or else the tone you take with me would no longer be tolerated.” He inched back. “Leonard, instruct her. I will find Todd.” Glaring at Lillian, Devante walked off.

  Though his tent was gone, Todd was not. He sat on an art case, where his portable home once stood. His head lowered, and he stared at the ground.

  Devante made his approach. “Todd, it is imperative that you leave for Seville. The transportation awaits.”

  Todd said nothing.

  “Lillian said you are engrossed with art.”

  Todd whispered, “Something is wrong.”

  “What?” Devante asked.

  “I can’t draw. Look at my hand.” Todd lifted his right palm; it trembled out of control.

  Devante stepped forward and grasped Todd’s hand. “When did this happen?”

  “This morning. I drew a sketch, then…”

  “Let me see the sketch.”

  Todd reached down for the sheet of paper and, without turning around, handed it to Devante. “The first one.”

  It was a picture of two swords. But they were set within a distorted and ripped heart. “Todd.” Devante smiled. “This message is clear. I am pleased. My plan is working. The Holy Team separates.”

  “That’s what I thought. Until I drew another. Only, I felt more out of control. I couldn’t stop. And after I completed it, I heard this laugh, the picture dropped from my hand, and I haven’t stopped shaking.”

  “Where is the picture?”

  Todd closed his eyes and handed it to him.

  Devante bellowed out, and dropped the sketch to the ground.

  Todd sprang up. “Dude, what… what…”

  “The man they call James,” Devante whispered. He added, in a gravelly voice, “He interferes. How dare he.”

  “With what?” Todd asked.

  “Our plan. Our movement. My eyes through you. His puny obstruction challenges my power. This shows he underestimates my ability.”

  Todd blinked. “I didn’t think anyone could interfere with you. The angel can’t...”

  “He is not the angel.”

  “Well then, who is he?” Todd asked.

  Devante brought his foot down upon the sketch. The sketch burst into flames. “The son of God.”

  Seville, Ohio

  With a heavy clank, the sword flew from Marcus’ hold and fell to the ground. He shook his hand. “Geez, Reg.”

  “Come on Marcus,” Reggie spoke, aggravated. “Keep a grip.”

  “Why don’t you get a grip, Reg?”

  Reggie huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re fighting like you have something to prove.”

  “Pick up your sword.”

  “Is that it?” Marcus asked. “Are you mad because you didn’t pull a heavenly sword today?”

  Reggie glared at him. “Pick up your sword.”

  Marcus bent down apprehensively. “I’m not the one to be practicing with.”

  “Nonsense.” Reggie lifted her sword high. “Everyone’s paired off.”

  “But it’s not productive if you kick my ass. You’re not supposed to be practicing with me.”

  “Marcus,” Reggie said. “Who am I supposed to practice with?”

  “Me.” Michael appeared behind her.

  Reggie closed her eyes and turned around. “No thank you. I’d rather not. Not right now.”

  “Then later, perhaps,” Michael suggested.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Reg,” Marcus intervened. “Enough with the attitude.”

  “Oh, fuck you, Marcus. OK?”

  “Whoa.” Marcus raised his hands. “Don’t jump down my throat. You don’t get in bad moods, Reg. What’s up with that?”

  “If you don’t know, then I’m not telling you.”

  Marcus snickered. “What are you talking about?”

  Grunting, Reggie shook her head. “Forget it. I’m out of here.” She turned to go.

  “Reggie.” Michael stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “You and I should train. If you don’t feel like it now, perhaps before the sun sets we will make time.”

  Reggie swatted at his hand. “Don’t you get it? God, Michael. Leave me alone, all right? I don’t want you touching me. I told you that this morning. I mean it. You make my skin crawl.” Reggie tossed her sword into the ground and stormed off.

  Marcus saw the hurt in Michael’s face. “I’ll... I’ll go talk to her. Excuse me.”

  He tilted his head as he watched Marcus pursue Reggie.

  “She doesn’t mean it,” said a voice from behind Michael.

  Michael’s eyes lifted. Turning around, his mouth opened to speak.

  “Don’t,” said the man. “The people in this place, they call me James.” He walked to Michael, one hand in the front pocket of his jeans. “She doesn’t mean it.”

  “The plan. I thought my instructions were clear. I thought we were following them,” Michael said.

  “You are.”

  “She said I make her skin crawl. She said she wants to be with Marcus.”

  “She’s lying.”

  “She has lied to me?” Michael was aghast. “Why?”

  James chuckled. “She’s scared. She’s afraid that if you touch her, she will be damned.”

  Michael looked over his shoulder. “Is that true? Will she be damned?”

  “No,” he answered, with a grin.

  “I make no attempt to cover the fact that I am lost and confused on what I should do now.”

  James softened his voice. “It’s a process, you have to take it. You are gaining very necessary feelings. You are searching and you don’t know it. Searching for what you need.” He stepped closer. “The true reason to fight this battle.”

  “You are speaking in riddles.”

  “It’s more fun that way.”

  “Everything has turned into a riddle. She turns from me now when yesterday she welcomed me.”

  “Yesterday was different, Michael. When you kissed her…” James winked. “She walked away and fo
und the blood of a dervan demon on her lips. You know how that smells.”

  “How… how is that possible?” Michael asked. “She was in the protected compound.”

  “But her mind is not safe. Not when you aren’t around her. Devante may not slip into these gates, but he can slip into her mind. And her mind will produce the physical manifestation. Last night, Devante took advantage of your absence and went into her dream. That’s when he frightened her from you.”

  “He snuck into her dream?” Michael gasped. “That... that sucks.”

  “Good word usage.”

  “Thank you.” Michael paused. “Her dreams are not safe then.”

  “Not when you aren’t near her. No.” James shook his head. “I’ll send a guardian for her mind… for when you can’t be around.”

  “Another angel? Who?” Michael asked, worried.

  “Gabriel.”

  “No. No. No.” Michael shook his head. “Absolutely not. No. He resents me as it is for being selected for this battle. He... he tells tales. He will enter her dreams and who knows what he will say to her?”

  James laughed. “That’s funny. But what choice do we have? He’s the strongest one we’ve got.”

  “What about Steven? He is good.”

  “He’s not Gabriel.”

  Michael whined. “But you will instruct him not to take over. When I return, he leaves.”

  “Pretty much. But Michael... you have the dark side to fight, no petty stuff with Gabe.”

  “None.” Michael shook his head.

  “Your word?”

  Michael sighed. “My word. But for now, what do I do about Reggie? How can I make her see what has happened to her?”

  “Tell her.”

  “Tell her, yes.” Michael’s eyes brightened. “Now?”

  “Yeah, if you want to get things back on track. It may not be easy. It may not happen right away. But you have to start combating what Devante has done, and… unfortunately, may continue to do.”

  “I will do so. Thank you.” Michael bowed his head and backed away. “You’ll come again?”

  James winked. “You know it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, and Michael.” He waited until Michael looked again. “Don’t take no for an answer.” He clenched his fist. “It’s all right to be forceful with her. Pick her up, charge off. Don’t listen to her hard words. Scoff at them. Don’t be afraid to show her you are the one who is right.”

  “Will she not get mad?”

  “No. Be insistent. Show her who’s boss. And hurry. Do it now.”

  “Yes. Yes I will. I will follow your instruction... James. Thank you.”

  James smiled as he watched Michael pick up speed. In the midst of his snickering, he peered to the heavens with raised hands. “I know, I know.” He returned to chuckling as he watched Michael charge ahead.

  Marcus shook his head and laughed. “You won’t be damned. Reg, it was a dream. A stupid dream.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  Marcus exhaled. “It was a dream. I’m not saying it was normal, I’m just saying you have to look at it as a dream. This is the end of the world here, and you and him have to keep together to help us stop it.”

  “I can do that without him touching me.”

  “Listen to you,” Marcus said. “When are you going to see it? It’s much more than fooling around. He has to connect to you. You’re the one. He has to experience humanity, so he can save humanity.”

  Reggie paused and changed demeanor. “Oh, Geez. That’s... I never thought of that.”

  “It’s the best one of my theories as to why you two have to be together.”

  “That’s pretty good, considering he couldn’t care less about Man.”

  “But he doesn’t care less about you.”

  “You wonder why I’m so… so…” Reggie stared out.

  Marcus saw the look on Reggie’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Does Michael look like he’s heading this way awfully fast?” Reggie backed up. “Shit. I know that run. I better go.”

  “Run, Reg!” Marcus cheered her, then felt the whip of wind as Michael seared past.

  Reggie shrieked when Michael blasted forth, grabbed hold and lifted her into the air. She pounded her fist on Michael’s back, the wind rushing in her ears. “Michael!”

  “Silence, woman.”

  High altitude or not, Reggie had to mouth the words, “Silence, woman?” She squirmed and struck at him until they settled to the ground. Then she screamed, “Asshole! What the hell!”

  Michael spoke firmly. “Reggie, you will listen.”

  “I could have listened to you over there!” she yelled.

  “The man they call James said I must…”

  “Who?”

  “James. He said…”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what some James guy has to say.”

  Michael gasped. “He is very important. He said to be firm. To explain to you.”

  “Explain what?” Reggie asked. “What is this guy, some kinda caveman?”

  Michael’s mouth fell open.

  “I’m heading back.”

  “Reggie, please, we need to speak.”

  “Then you speak to me in front of Marcus or my father. I trust them.” Folding her arms, Reggie walked off.

  Standing alone, Michael whispered aloud to himself. “Trust them? What about me?” He followed, but didn’t get far.

  James stood there.

  Michael bowed his head. “Forgive me, but if it was not such an insult, I would tell you that you have misled me.”

  “Sorry.”

  Michael’s head bounced up like a spring. “Sorry?”

  James shrugged. “I thought it would be funny. And that it would work. It runs deeper than I thought.”

  “How, James?” Michael took a step toward him and spoke passionately. “How are we to battle as one, when we cannot even stand in companionship as one?”

  “I can’t stress enough that there must be no riffs between the two of you. Not going into a battle. This, Michael, must be resolved.”

  “Tell me, will we fail if we do not mend what seems to be broken?”

  “There will not be a second battle if you cannot fix it before the first.”

  Michael nodded and exhaled. “Well, then I must make it right. I must make her see that this small problem has grown bigger than it should. She will see the error in her thinking and fears. Time is our ally right now.”

  James shook his head. “See, there’s a problem. Unfortunately, it’s not.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mt Vernon, Illinois

  The blood from her scraped knees laced the pavement, but her screams were more of terror than pain. A demon had hold of her. With the exception of his two arms and legs, he only slightly resembled a man. His distorted figure swayed ape-like, and he sported a devilish grin. He dragged the woman by her hair toward the fire and tossed her to the ground. Her body flopped like a rag doll as he ripped off her clothes. She screamed and scurried to get away, but he grabbed onto her. Clawed hands gripping her thighs, he brought her buttocks to his lower waist and thrust into her four times before lifting and tossing her into the fire... alive.

  “They, uh...” Leonard cleared his throat, “do that quite a bit.” They watched the burning of the small city and its occupants.

  “You mean capture the pleasures of the flesh?” Devante nodded. “The dervan are notorious for that. They are sometimes perverted, and the gender of their prey is not important. Yet the demonlings, they differ. They are more, as you can see, torturous.” Devante pointed to a different species of demon.

  It was difficult to determine whether a demonling was male or female. Pale amber, leather-like skin covered their small, muscular bodies. They walked with a straight posture, and used their small wings for short flights. Their faces held no emotional definition.

  The demonling that Devante pointed out was pulling a screaming man
across the concrete toward the bonfire, using the man’s penis like a tow-rope.

  “Nasty little devils,” said Leonard, nervously.

  “That was amusing.” Devante smiled. “Yes, they are. It is good to have them as workers when we come into smaller towns like this; towns where Christians gather and hide.”

  “And die.” Leonard indicated the fire and the multitudes of dervan and demonlings who hopped about excitedly. “What’s the difference between these demons?”

  “The dervan were once men, like you. God condemned them. They are the grunts. What you see of man walking about now is the beginning of the dervan. During transformation, they exist in a walking-dead state. Dervan and demonlings are loyal; rarely do they leave my side. That is why I utilize the walking dead to torment our opposition. Amongst other things.”

  “And what are the demonlings?”

  “The demonlings are the spawn of damnation. Born in hell, they are offspring of fallen angels. Angels who lust for the flesh and fall from grace.”

  “Wait a second.” Leonard held up his hand. “If angels fall from grace because they lust, then why aren’t you using that? Get to this Reggie, have her come on to Michael. Let him fall from grace.”

  “I wish it were that easy. But God has given Michael man’s form and feeling. So the warrior is immune from falling from grace. He does not lust, he… he...”

  “Loves?”

  Devante grunted in disgust.

  “But really, love can work for you. Because love turned bad can tear two people apart more than anything.”

  “Be that as it…” He paused. A far-off look glazed his eyes, and he glanced to the side. “Leonard, you have given me an idea. Excuse me.” Devante walked off.

  “And he just leaves.” Leonard shook his head, then stepped away from the dark circus of Devante’s creatures.

  Seville, Ohio

  “And that would be a parable.” Marcus paused to take a drink of water. He set the glass on the table where Seth sat with open books. His head cocked to the sounds of training flowing through the open kitchen widow. It was musical. The grunts, charges, cheers, followed up by the occasional flap of the kitchen curtain.