The earth shook violently. Fr. Davis tried to stand his ground, waving in the people as they passed them into the sanctuary. One by one, confused, they ran inside.
As the last person ran past, Fr. Davis kicked the block on the door.
“Wait!” A woman fled from the church.
“Back inside!” he yelled.
“I can’t. Josh…” The woman cried frantically. “My son. I thought my husband had him, but he doesn’t. My son is out there.”
Fr. Davis moved her back. “Hold the door, I’ll find him.”
Rapidly, she nodded, then her eyes widened and she smiled. “Josh.”
Fr. Davis turned to see the blond three-year old running across the empty, shaking street. “Stay here, I’ll get him,” he said.
A hundred feet away, Josh stopped. He placed his finger in his mouth and began to cry.
“Josh!” Fr. Davis called and hurried as fast as his disabled body could move. “Come to me!” He opened his arms wide in invitation.
Josh smiled brightly. But his little legs had charged only two steps when a huge arm shot out of the pavement. Vein-strewn, reddish, the bony fingers snatched the boy, trapping him in the pocket of its hand.
The mother screamed as a fiery gully seared through the ground.
His eyes focused on the child, who could be seen above the flames, Fr. Davis raced closer to the inferno. “Hold on, Josh!”
“I’ll get him!” A man’s voice cried out in the distance.
Fr. Davis spotted him and felt a wave of relief. He could see the younger man making his way. “I’ll get him.” Like a well-trained athlete, the man leapt toward the arm, and in a single motion ripped the boy from the grip of the hand. He raised Josh high above his head like a trophy.
“Thank God.” Fr. Davis closed his eyes. When he opened them, the man still held Josh. “Bring him here.”
One step. One step was all the man took, and that was toward the flames. With a sadistic gleam, he threw the boy into the pit of hell.
“No!” Fr. Davis, arms reaching, raced toward the fire. Just as he arrived, the ground stopped shaking, the fire sucked in, and then it happened.
They shot forth out of the ravine. Multitudes of demonlings soared through the air like a flock of bats. Fr. Davis had no choice but to turn back and run to the church. The demonlings dove and pecked at him, taunting.
He blasted into the church and pulled the door closed. The hysterical cries within the foyer couldn’t drown the shrill screams of the demonlings outside. With the aid of four other men, Fr. Davis held tight to the trembling door. Blood dripped down his face, mixing with tears, as he closed his eyes and prayed the “Our Father.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Seville, Ohio
The end of Kyle’s mid-day broadcast brought an air of desolation. The initial “break of silence” response from Fr. Davis had been like a starting gun, serving as an “all clear” signal for others. It seemed every time Kyle was on the air, another camp let him know of their existence and willingness to help. The veil of fear was being lifted, though Kyle worried the attack on Fr. Davis’ camp would send the faithful back into hiding. Fr. Davis was despondent when he was told of what happened to his town, but not fatally so. And that was a good thing. In fact, he sounded more determined than ever to fight. He said to Kyle, “My people can’t stay here; where do you want us to go?”
Kyle sent him north to another town.
But the recent attack in Alabama inspired Kyle to reiterate to his listeners. Sounding like some born-again evangelist, he declared, “Listen people, you have got to be aware of the deceivers in your camp. You know how to weed them out; do it daily if you must.”
Kyle felt bad for Michael. But he wasn’t just partial to the angel, he felt bad for all parties involved. He would have chalked it up to the mounting tension before the battle, but there wasn’t really any time for tension to mount. Plain and simple, Devante was finding a way “in” and, whether they wanted to admit it or not, they were playing right into his plan.
Reggie was doing well, but she didn’t know how to handle the situation yet, so she just avoided dealing with it. She did, however, take time to tell Marcus that she wasn’t mad at him, and understood why he did what he did. But that was all she said. She disappeared to train with Herbie and hadn’t spoken to Michael or Marcus since.
Kyle was certain that Michael held no grudges. He was very forgiving. The problem was, Marcus wasn’t apologizing.
From his broadcast room, Kyle could hear all that transpired in the kitchen. He listened as Eliza scolded Marcus like the mother she was, and Aunt Rose taunted. Seth seemed to be ignoring it all. When Kyle realized Marcus was finally alone, sulking, most likely, he decided to take advantage.
Entering the kitchen with an exhaled, “Well…,” Kyle walked to the table. “That certainly was an interesting broadcast.”
Writing in a notebook, Marcus briefly raised his eyes, then returned to his paper. “How is Fr. Davis doing since the attack?”
“Doing.” Kyle edged his seat closer. “And how are you since your attack?”
Again, Marcus raised his eyes. “Doing.”
“Are you taking notes on how to successfully clobber an angel with a baseball bat?”
Marcus slammed the notebook. “Go on. Say it. I’ve been waiting.”
“Don’t give me attitude.” Kyle waved a finger. “I just wanna tell you that it ain’t worth getting like this. You have to put this behind you and move on. We start fighting tomorrow, Marcus. This is war. Now, I understand what your thinking is.”
“Do you? Do you really?”
“Yes.” Kyle nodded. “But hating the person that is going to ensure our survival is not the way to do it.”
“And why is that?” Marcus asked. “Why do we need Michael?”
“Because we, as man, as a whole, screwed up. You know it. Plus, you know, he’s an expert. Marcus…” Kyle laid his hand over Marcus’. “This has to be tough all the way around for you. You’re still mourning over the loss of your family. You had to give up Reggie. The world is falling apart, and I’m not saying you’re to blame.”
Marcus looked away.
“Are you sure it’s Reggie’s vulnerability with Michael that makes you so mad?”
“Yes,” Marcus said, adamant. “If he wasn’t so wrapped up in her, Reggie would have been suspicious the moment the imposter made a move. She wasn’t because Michael keeps making moves on her, so Reggie was open to trusting him, and therefore open to getting hurt.”
“Again, I understand that,” Kyle said. “And you’re positive that it doesn’t have a lot to do with Michael and Reggie… period?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, just checking. That being said, why don’t you make amends with Michael? Put this behind you.”
“I can’t.” Marcus stood. “I don’t know why, but I just can’t. Not yet.” He walked from the room.
Kyle stayed for a moment and then followed Marcus. He wasn’t giving up. There wasn’t much time left to fix this.
Indianapolis, Indiana
Todd went to the registration desk of the empty hotel and rang the service bell. “Hello? Hel-loo?”
“Will you please... stop that?” Lillian plopped on a sofa.
“You aren’t very nice.” Todd made his way over to her. “Hey, did I show you the picture I drew of you?”
“I’m not sure I want to see it.”
He sat on the sofa across from her and pulled a sketchpad from his knapsack. With a snicker, Todd flipped through the pages and handed it to her.
“Swell.” She looked at the picture of Medusa and tossed it back. “Funny.”
“I thought I captured the evil in you.”
“Why do you say I’m evil?” Lillian asked.
“For starters, good-hearted people don’t follow the devil around. Second, you were black-hearted before Devante. You packed up and left your kid. Without telling.”
“I told,” Lillian
spoke snidely. “I told that man I was married to.”
“But you didn’t tell your kid.”
“Because she was a child.”
“But you didn’t like her. Why spare her feelings? Why did you leave?”
“I hated my life. I hated my daughter. I could have lived with Kyle, less emotions or not, but my life went downhill after Reggie was born.”
“Must have been pretty bad. Was, like, your daughter a terror?”
“No. I just didn’t love her. To me, she was all of my dreams gone up in smoke. I was a nurse in a small town. I had a good job in a hospital. Did well. Then I lost my job because I helped some woman who didn’t have insurance. The only job I could get was at an indigent clinic east of Seville. I hated it. Reggie and that boy were inseparable. I knew it would never be better, that janitor George would be Kyle’s buddy and Eliza would want to bake with me.” She huffed in disgust. “I also knew my daughter would grow up to marry that boy, and that he’d be nothing more than a janitor himself.”
Todd snickered.
“What’s so funny?”
“You, like… don’t know who that boy grew up to be?”
“No. And I couldn’t care less.”
Todd inched his way closer to Lillian. “That boy created Devante.”
“Oh, who cares?”
Todd shuddered. “Man, you’re cold. I think your daughter’s gonna hate you.”
“I am confident she’ll welcome me.”
“What makes you so sure? You left her.”
“Once an optimist, always an optimist,” Lillian said. “Reggie was two cents shy of an idiot her whole life. I doubt that she’s changed.”
Fort Knox, KY
There was something odd about the concrete bedroom. Confused, Devante felt the cold walls and peered around. In his hand, he held a sheet of paper. He leaned over the cot and slammed the paper to the wall, it adhered. He stepped back, arms folded, and stared at the sketch of Reggie.
Leonard knocked once on the open door and entered. “Is everything okay?”
Still eyeing the sketch, Devante nodded. “What is this place?”
“You said your life is vital in ending this. To keep you protected, this is the safest place I know. They can’t get in.” Leonard inched toward him. “Wanted to let you know, we picked up more of Kyle Stevens’ broadcast and were able to pinpoint more camps for the other side.”
“That is good. Let’s send out deceivers, infiltrate the camps and bring them down.”
“You know… Seville is really important.”
“That is why we are sending Todd and Lillian there.”
“Yeah, but this holy team is essential as well. I think it was a stroke of brilliance going after Reggie. If you can keep…”
“No,” Devante said strongly. “We will not go after Regina again.”
“But if we get her, take her out or pull her from the angel, we…”
“I said…” Devante glared at Leonard. “No! She has served her part. Trust me.” He returned to the sketch.
“I’m gonna assume you want to back off her for the same reason you decided to hang her picture on your wall.”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask what that is?”
“It frustrates me, for I have no answer. She has always pulled at me. More so now. She serves another purpose for me…” Devante ran a finger over the sketch. “A bigger purpose. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Seville, Ohio
The training fields had quieted. The men had stopped working for the evening, but the usual sounds of happy relaxation didn’t flow across the Stevens’ property on this night. It was calm, surreal.
On the edge of the property, Michael sat on a tree stump, sword perched beside him, head hung low, his hands folded in prayer.
The man they called James stood ten feet behind him. He watched the angel for a while before saying anything. “You do realize,” James said. “This is a narrative moment.”
Michael spun, stood, and then bowed his head. “James.”
“How are you, Michael?”
“I am… I am…” he sighed. “Not well.”
“I’m sorry.” James neared him.
“How is this happening?”
“No one said war was fair. How much slaughter and deceit was there for the first battle? This is no different.”
“Marcus despises me.”
“And he clocked you pretty well, too. But… it’s not your relationship with Marcus that is important. It’s what transpires between you and Reggie.”
“She will not speak to me.”
“It’s out of loyalty to Marcus. She will, though.”
“When?”
“Soon. And Michael… no.” James shook his head. “We will not let you quit. I’m kind of…” James winked. “A little shocked that you would want to back out so easily.”
“I don’t. But I do not want my presence to be a hindrance.”
“To be honest, if I believed it was a hindrance, I would have removed you myself.”
Michael nodded in gratitude.
“I just wanted to check on your prayer. Quit asking God to take you home.”
“I will not bother God with that any further.” Michael smiled.
“Good. I’ll leave you be.” He reached out and gave a swat to Michael’s back before turning.
“James?”
James stopped and turned around. “Yes?”
“I respect Marcus. I like him. I wish for him to respect and like me again. Will he?”
James paused for a moment. “No. But this is good. Because he despises you, he will fight stronger, and that is what we need. Goodnight, Michael.” James turned and walked on.
Michael watched James until he disappeared, and then Michael made his way back to the tree stump and sat down. After a few minutes, he heard the scuffling of feet, and looked over his shoulder.
Reggie was there.
Michael stood.
“Is this a private thing, or can I join you?”
“Please.” Michael reached out his hand. His fingers trembled as they hovered in the distance between them.
Reggie took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
“Why do you apologize?”
“Because I haven’t been fair,” Reggie said. “I’ve been avoiding you all day. I don’t blame you for what happened. I’m not mad at you. Just like I don’t blame Marcus for what he did. And I don’t want you to be mad at him.”
“I’m not. He defends you.”
“Yes. And I love him for it. But the only reason I stayed away from you is, I had to get my head straight.”
“Did you succeed?”
Reggie smiled. “Yeah.”
“And does your mind trust me again?”
“Yes. I realize what has been happening. And it no longer scares me away from you; it makes me want to fight them even harder.”
“Ah,” Michael grinned. “If we possess the will… together we are mighty.”
“And one.”
Michael swallowed. “Are we? Are we as one?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Even with Marcus unpleased with me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he will speak to me soon?” Michael asked.
“Um…” Reggie paused. “Probably not. He looks at this situation a little differently.”
“James has said that…”
“Stop.” Reggie held up her hand. “Who is this James? Really, he needs to mind his own goddamn…”
“Reggie!” Michael scolded.
“No! He’s butting in where he doesn’t belong,”
“He is…”
A rush of static came from Reggie’s walkie-talkie.
“Reggie.” It was Marcus.
Michael looked around. “Where does that come from?”
More static. “Reggie, where’s Michael?”
“There… there it is again,” Michael said. “I’m here, Marcus. Where
are you?”
Reggie snickered. “Michael, he can’t hear you.”
“But I hear him.”
“Yes, I know.” She lifted the radio. “My father is making me carry this around. Watch.” She pressed the button. “I’m right here with Michael. What’s up?”
“Tell Michael we have some shit happening at the front. We need you.”
“Shit... happening?” Michael questioned.
Reggie pressed the button. “Explain ‘shit happening.’”
Marcus responded, “We have company. They aren’t pretty.”
Retrieving his sword, Michael took hold of Reggie’s hand. “Prepare your weapon.”
Reggie rolled her eyes, and grabbed her dagger.
The moans were loud when Michael and Reggie arrived. Earl and two other bikers stood there along with Marcus. The demons charged but could not penetrate, as if there was an invisible wall across the property line. Michael caught his breath. “There are so many.”
“No shit,” said Marcus. “That’s why I called you. What do we do?”
Looking to Reggie, Michael stepped closer to the wall’s opening. “We have to take them out. We cannot let them lurk around out there. Evil should not be this close.”
Reggie moved next to Michael. His face looked worried, and his eyes didn’t blink. “What are you thinking?”
“These are newly formed demons. Not long ago they were men.” He snapped out of it. “Would you like to join me in taking them out? It should be fairly easy. They are unarmed, and it would be good practice for tomorrow.”
Reggie shrugged. “Sure. Do you think I’m good enough?”
“Ah, Reggie, you are a warrior like no other. Let us do this…”
Marcus stepped between them. “You aren’t taking her out there.”
Surprised, Michael looked at Marcus. “Tomorrow will be far worse.”
Reggie stepped before Marcus, speaking soothingly, “Why are you being like this? I’ll be fine.”
Marcus shifted his eyes from Reggie to Michael. “It’s real now, Reg.”
“I’ll be fine. I need you to find your faith, Marcus.”
Marcus nodded slowly. He looked at Michael once more, then leaned to Reggie and kissed her softly. “Be careful.”
Purge: Book Three: Last Days Trilogy Page 11