Devil Kickers

by Daniel Marc Chant

  “Knock knock, Christopherrrr,” it snarled.

  Chris cursed loudly and snatched up two more shotgun shells. The demon cackled and began to crawl into the house. When it placed its hands on the car roof to steady itself, its cries of triumph were replaced by screams of agony. There was a hissing noise, and as it pulled its hand away from the holy water-doused roof, the skin on its palm peeled off.

  It screamed more.

  “Bastaaaaard! Fucking meatsack cunt! I'm going to rip your fucking head off!” it cried.

  Chris was oblivious to its cries. He was too busy trying to load the gun. He popped one of the shells in, but as he began to load the second he was distracted by the screaming demon. It had launched itself into the house, scorching its arms on wet brickwork as it did so. Black pulp dripped from its left hand, and it looked like it wasn’t long for this world.

  “Not so tough without your fancy tricks, are we?” the demon spat, blood bile accompanying the words. “I'm going to make you suffer for sending me back to Hell, Idol!”

  More demons eagerly approached the house, and Chris knew that his time had run out. He fumbled the second cartridge into the shotgun and snapped it shut, but it was too late. The beast was already looming over him, ready to deliver a killing blow.

  “Time to die” it screeched in delight, and Chris glanced up to see a mouthful of blackened teeth smiling at him.

  He closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

  Because of this, he didn't see what happened next.

  But he most definitely heard it.

  There was an almighty thump, accompanied by a sickening crunch and the sound of something bursting. Then a wailing scream of pain, and a voice that he'd know anywhere.

  “HAVE SOME OF THAT, YOU UGLY PRICK!” Pete shouted.

  Chris opened his eyes just in time to see the demon fall to the floor. Its face was a smashed and ragged mess of bone and jet black blood.

  Pete brought the hammer down onto the monster’s head again and again, turning it to ruin. Chris couldn't help but smile.

  Beating a monster from Hell to death with a hammer.

  Now that’s brotherly love for you.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE BATTLE OF GALLOWS HILL

  They poured in through the smashed entrance like insects, a steady current of limbs, claws and teeth. Some of them touched upon the parts of the debris that were doused in holy water, and they screamed, recoiling as their skin bubbled and melted. As they prowled further into the open space of the vast living room, they looked across at the Idol brothers with a delighted hunger on their faces.

  They had been given a gift by their master, and they would enjoy it, savour it.

  Sister Sarah joined the brothers and looked around for something to defend herself with. Plaster, bricks, and dust were everywhere, the shattered remnants of the fortress that they had created for themselves. She spotted some pipework amongst the debris and reached for it. It was solid, and heavy enough to be useful in a fight.

  Pete stepped up from the body of the fallen demon, black blood dripping from the hammer in his hand. He joined Chris and Sarah in watching as the congregation of the damned poured in.

  This was it. This was the moment.

  “Here we go,” Chris said. He looked over to Sister Sarah. She was speaking to no one, but her lips were moving. It was impossible to hear what she was saying, but Chris knew the nun was praying. He turned to his brother.

  “Have you still got it?” he asked.

  “Yep. Just got to wait for the right one to use it on,” Pete replied.

  “Well, that will be fun.”

  Demonic villagers edged towards them. Pete took one last look at his brother.

  “Ever wish we had chosen a different profession?” he asked.

  Chris lifted the shotgun towards the oncoming horde. “Nope.”

  Pete smirked, and pulled the other hammer from the back of his trousers. “Yeah. Me neither.”

  They took a deep breath, and then Pete let loose a war-cry.

  “COME ON THEN YOU FUCKERS!”

  The demons screeched in response and began to rush forward.

  With the boom of a shotgun blast, the fight began.

  A demon tumbled backwards, its chest a blackened shotgun mess. Another stepped in to take the lead. It was a decomposing pub landlord, raging with bitterness and hatred, and it looked at Chris with murder in its eyes.

  Before Chris could fire, Pete stepped between the two and swung one of the hammers at the drooling middle-aged Hell-beast. It managed to raise its hand in front of its face, but the hammer cracked the bones and split the fingers apart. The demon screeched with pain and turned to Pete, and was met with a hammer to the face. The top of its head cracked and folded inwards as black blood spewed forth. The creature began to fall, but Pete didn’t stop. He swung the other hammer, embedding it in the creature’s face. Its skull exploded outwards, and as a yellow eyeball flew past his head, Pete realised that his weapon was stuck.

  The creature fell back, threatened to take the Idol brother off of his feet. Pete shook the hammer, trying to dislodge it. He didn't see the scarred, blackened, boil-infested woman launch herself off the Sedan's crumpled bonnet towards him.

  As another shotgun blast rung out, the woman’s body was split in half. Pete recoiled as he was spattered by more sulphuric blood. With a sickening sound, like someone removing their foot from a boggy marsh, the hammer came free.

  Chris snapped open the shotgun and removed the shells. A couple of demonic youths took advantage of his reload time and made towards him. Their hands were split open; sharp, bone-like claws extended from their fingertips. They were going to rip Chris from groin to Adam’s apple, and would have if they had not met with an angry looking redhead in a sunflower t-shirt.

  Sister Sarah swung the pipe with everything she had, and when it connected with the first demon she felt something crunch. She swung again, hitting the next monster in its stomach. It folded over, and as it did so Sarah brought the pipe down on the back of its head. Black liquid splashed upwards and covered her.

  This nightmare was like nothing she had ever seen. Was this what the priest in Korea had had to deal with before his death? The thought didn’t last, though, as the previously wounded teen went for her again. Its face was smashed and bloody, and its ear was hanging off in a black mess. It tried to swing its bony claws at her, but she hopped back and managed to avoid it. The demon stumbled as its swing took it off balance.

  Sarah took this opportunity to swing the pipe again, and this time she didn't just injure the beast. She took the top of its head clean off, leaving a blood spewing jawbone with a lizard like tongue waggling freely.

  Pete continued to swing away with his dual hammers, screaming like a football hooligan as he did so. When he heard the snap of the shotgun, he instinctively stepped back and out of the way. Chris fired into the crowd once more, sending demons spinning. He searched the oncoming crowd for another target. He saw a demonic little girl crawl through the hole in the wall, blood covering her flowery pink dress and pigtails swinging as she climbed in, hungry for Idol brother flesh.

  He focused, raised the rifle, and fired another shot into the crowd, sending two elderly demons lurching out of view, minus a limb or two. He snapped the shotgun open once more, and as he removed and discarded the shells he shouted to his brother.

  “Pete!”

  His brother stepped back from the lurching mass of evil and glanced across to his brother. Chris smiled.

  “I've seen one,” he exclaimed, as he picked up more shells from the ground and began reloading the weapon.

  “I can't quite believe it, but I think this is going to fucking work!”

  ***

  Huddled in the bedroom, the students listened, terrified. The newcomer—Phil—groaned from his place on the floor against the bed. He stank, but no one seemed to mind. The poor man looked like he had been through a war. His leg was clearly broken, and he had cried
in pain as they had tried to get him as comfortable as possible. His useless foot was raised up, staining the pink pillow it rested on black. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but as the sounds of something terrifying and violent began downstairs, he spoke for the first time.

  “W-what… the bloody hell… is going on?” he croaked.

  Claire Marie went and sat next to him. “Try not to move,” she said. “You've been in an accident and your leg is broken. We're going to keep you comfortable until it’s safe to leave this room.”

  “Safe? W-what do you mean, safe?” Phil stuttered, remembering the nightmare he was in. “Oh god! Are there more of those monsters out there?”

  Claire looked at her friends. She didn't know what to say.

  A hand patted Phil on the shoulder, and looked up to see a young man smiling at him.

  “Don't worry, mate,” Jim said. “The Idol brothers are sorting it all out.”

  Another shotgun blast downstairs. The group were momentarily distracted, but Jim got the broken man’s attention once more.

  “We'll be out of here in a couple of hours, I'm sure of it,” he said.

  Then there came footsteps upon the stairs just outside the door. Upon hearing them, Petra stood from the bed, bow in hand. Phil spotted the weapon and his eyes widened.

  “Jesus christ!” he cried, and then winced as pain shot through his leg.

  Petra ignored him, and Ben handed her an arrow.

  “What the fuck is going on?!” Phil croaked.

  “I know you're scared,” Claire Marie said, “but we really need you to keep it together right now, okay?”

  Phil nodded.

  The footsteps outside got louder; they were almost at the door.

  “We're safe in here. They can't get in, can they?” Jim said.

  There was an agonising silence.

  Then the sound of a low, guttural growl.

  Then something smashed violently against the door.

  ***

  Chris brought the shotgun down upon the head of the cyclist, cracking his already smashed helmet. The cyclist thrashed his arms around, screaming obscenities and trying to dig his sickly nails into his attacker’s leg.

  The weapon came down again, cracking the helmet even more. The cyclist finally dropped fully to the floor, blood spilling from his mouth.

  Chris placed his boot on the back of the demon’s neck to hold it in place. He raised the weapon and fired two shots into the oncoming horde. Biding time.

  Pete and Sarah were covered in black, oily liquid, and looked to be tiring. The demonic horde now filled the entire ground floor. Sarah watched as some of them stalked the staircase. Pete saw them, too, and knew he had to say something to the nun.

  “Don't worry about them, Sister,” he said. “If today’s taught me anything, it;s that when you bless something, it works like a charm.”

  She nodded, breathing heavily.

  Chris flipped over the demon he was holding down with his foot. When he did so, the creature flailed its arms madly, and one of them caught him in the calf. It clamped down and Chris let out a cry of pain.

  “You bastard!” he cried, pointing the shotgun at the creature’s face and pulling the trigger. There was a loud boom, and the head exploded like a watermelon. The body slumped to the floor and began to bubble into a mass of black goo and mushy bone.

  Clearly the helmet hadn't worked that time.

  Chris looked up at the horde and backed away, limping across to his brother and the nun.

  “Are you okay?” Sister Sarah asked.

  “Yeah. I'll be fine. We need to end this now,” he replied.

  “Agreed.”

  The trio stood back to back as the demons stalked around them, circling them like hungry animals. They chattered and hissed amongst themselves, eager to begin the slaughter. Chris raised the shotgun and fired a shot into the air. It simultaneously quietened the monsters and made Sister Sarah jump.

  “Oy!” Chris shouted at the crowd. “This has gone on too long. We can’t keep fighting and I don't think any more of you want to be sent back to Hell.”

  “We won’t stop until we tear you limb from limb, fucker!” a demonic voice rang out. Chris did his best to brush it off.

  “You came all the way from Hell to kill us, and we understand why. We'd be pretty pissed off if someone kicked our asses, too.” He paused, feeling the crowd begin to bristle.

  “You want us? You can have us. We won’t fight you anymore. You can take your pound of flesh. You can rend us limb from limb, spread us all over this goddamn living room, for all we care, but before we let you take us we require one thing.”

  The demons didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.

  “We just need to know who wants us dead so badly.”

  The murder-hungry monsters all around looked to each other.

  A gnarled and boil-infested old man stepped forward.

  “Fine,” it hissed. “Then allow me to introduce myself. My name is—”

  Chris lowered his weapon at the creature’s face, cutting it off. “Not you, fuckrag,” he said. “We want to start with her first.”

  The little Demon-girl with the pigtails looked genuinely happy she had been chosen.

  ***

  When the bedroom door began to split, Claire Marie let out a small scream. The wood splintered and cracked as unseen hands attempted to get in. In its cage, the budgie chirped crazily.

  Petra stepped up and aimed her bow at the door. Sweat dripped from her forehead and her hands were shaking.

  As a large chunk of door panel exploded inwards, she let an arrow loose.

  It flew through the newly broken gap in the door, and she heard it connect with a soft target. There came an awful scream, followed by the sound of something bursting. She reached for another arrow, and as she struggled to reload, a familiar voice said:

  “I've come for you Claire. I told you I'd come for you. I'm going to rip your friends to pieces. The last thing the Idol brothers will see before I kill them will be me, wearing your pretty little face.”

  Danger.

  Petra unleashed another arrow at the hole in the door. This time she heard no sounds of it connecting. She cursed in her native tongue, and looked for another arrow.

  Claire Marie stood up from the bed and wiped tears from her eyes.

  “You hear me bitch. I'm going to wear you like a suit!”

  Claire stepped towards her ex-boyfriend, who fixed her with his glowing demonic eyes.

  “You can’t get in here. This room is protected,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Danger cackled maniacally.

  “This pisshole of a house was protected, wasn't it? And yet, here we are.” He licked his lips. “It's only a matter of time before we get in there and bleed you dry like the pigs you are.”

  Claire Marie stepped forward again. Behind her, Petra finally grabbed another arrow.

  “That’s it, baby. Come closer. Give old loverboy a kiss. I promise I won’t bite.” Danger seethed.

  “I'm not afraid of you,” Claire said.

  “Oh really? And why is that?”

  “Because for all your spite and venom, you forgot. I played host to the greatest evil of them all. Your boss. Your daddy. I spent more time in the arms of the one that you love the most than you ever will, and he showed me what true horror is.”

  Danger screeched in frustration. “You whore! You pathetic sack of meat! Just you wait until we get in there!”

  “Claire, get down!” Petra shouted.

  Claire did as she was told, and quickly dropped into a crouch.

  Petra released the arrow, and heard it sing as it left the bow.

  Danger recoiled, letting out a scream before disappearing out of sight. Then for a moment, all was quiet.

  “Did you get him?” Jim whispered.

  The cackling began once more. Danger reappeared, framed by the ruin of the door, and holding the arrow between clawed fingers.

  “Nice try, b
itch,” he growled. “But you'll have to do better than that if you want to stop me ripping your tits off.”

  Petra was stunned. The whole room was stunned.

  Well, almost the whole room.

  In one fluid motion, Claire Marie sprung up from her crouch and lunged for the doorway. In her hand was an arrow wrapped in holy water-doused toilet tissue. By the time the monster had time to react, it was already too late.

  Claire thrust her arm through the splintered wood. She jammed the point of the arrow deep into Danger’s eye socket. Sulphuric blood gushed from the wound, and Danger let out a high-pitched scream unlike any other, desperately thrashing at his eye. He stepped back, flailing his arms. As he fell, his body began to swell and distort, and when he hit the steps behind him, he burst like a balloon, scattering black goo and entrails across the floor and walls.

  The other demons stepped away from the door, now. Scared.

  Claire Marie pulled her arm back in to find blood pouring from a wound she had suffered. She clamped a hand around it, turned back to the group to see Ben and Petra rushing towards her.

  “Oh my god, Claire!” Ben exclaimed, wrapping a sheet around the wound.

  She settled onto the bed and began to cry.

  ***

  The smiling pigtail demon freaked Chris the fuck out.

  “So, which are you, beast?” he said. “When did we previously meet?”

  The creature cocked its head to one side and looked at the demons all around it. Then it looked back at the Idol brothers and smiled once more.

  “My name,” it said, taking its time and enjoying the words, “Is Balaal. Eater of souls, the taker of innocence, the soiler of—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, we know all that,” Chris interrupted. “From whose body did we exorcise you?”

  Balaal's smile disappeared, and its lip curled up in annoyance.

  “You took me from the soul of one they called Jefferson Clarke.”