“Right now? Not get killed,” Chris said.
“Sounds like a good plan,” she replied.
Chris climbed over the partition and leaned in to his brother. “Where we headed?”
“Out of this shithole of a town, for starters. After that. I don't know. How does Little Chef sound?” Pete replied through gritted teeth. “That thing following us?”
“I can’t see it yet.”
“I can!” Sister Sarah interrupted.
Chris looked back, and his heart jumped into his mouth.
Behind, the nightmare creature was bounding after them. Cars bounced off its enormous frame as it charged forward, the fires of Hell burning brightly from its many eyes. It was oblivious to all obstacles, and was gaining on them.
“Jesus Christ!” Sister Sarah screamed as Chris stumbled past her, trying hard to keep his balance. She was surprised to see he wasn’t panicking. Then again, today had been a massively unusual day.
“Keep her steady!” Chris screamed at his brother.
“I'm trying!” came the reply.
Chris settled himself down onto the wheel arch. He dug his feet in and readied the shotgun in his hands. He looked at Sarah.
“Can you keep that door open?” he asked.
She looked at the back doors, and realised what he was trying to do. Nodding, she stepped over to the doors and, using the handle, leant over to open them.
The van suddenly took a sharp turn, tyres skidding on the blood-wet tarmac.
Chris rocked in his seat, but managed to steady himself.
Sister Sarah was less fortunate, and lost her grip on the handle, screamed, and tumbled into the back doors. She must have caught the latch as the doors flew open.
Chris shot out a hand and caught her wrist, stopped the nun from falling out onto the road behind them. Chris gritted his teeth, planted his feet and pulled. As she tumbled back in, Sarah fell into him, her arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you,” she sighed. Chris barely had time to feel uncomfortable before his brother’s voice piped up.
“Sorry about that! Everyone okay back there?”
“Yeah. Just about,” Chris replied.
He looked out the back, saw the nightmarish hound had almost reached the vehicle. It lowered its head, showing its vast black horns. With a thrash of its head, it smashed into the rear of the van.
The van was violently rocked as the open door broke off its hinges and disappeared into the distance. Chris and Sarah cried out, but somehow Pete managed to keep the vehicle on track. The hound stared into the back of the van with its many eyes and locked onto Chris. He could hear its growl even above the engine, saw it prepare to take another charge at the now almost open cab. As it burst forward, he lifted the shotgun, took aim and fired.
The blast caught the creature in a couple of its fiery eyes, and it recoiled, stopping in its tracks and roaring in pain and anger.
The creature shook off the blast, but not before the van had managed to extend its lead once again.
Pete took the next corner at speed, and Chris wobbled in his seat once more. He looked over to Sister Sarah, and her look told him that she was thinking the same thing he was.
“We're not going to make it,” she said.
“I know,” Chris replied.
In the distance, another roar filled the sky.
The creature was coming for them again.
***
The poor van had taken one hell of a beating, but she was still going. Pete made a mental note, that if they managed to get through this, he was going to spend more time looking after the vehicle. Maybe take it for a valet. That would be nice.
The small, windy roads of the village weren’t easy to navigate, and the parked cars at the sides of the road made it extra tricky, but at least there was no oncoming traffic to worry about. The giant bloodhound intent on killing them was the only issue.
He soon found himself on a half-decent stretch of straight road. He planted his foot on the gas and felt the van scream and accelerate in response. His brother appeared on his shoulder.
“That thing still chasing us?” Pete asked.
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” Pete said. “It's not going to stop, is it?”
“No.”
“Bollocks. Where's a big bucket of holy water when you need it?”
Pete chuckled. His brother did not.
“Think you can get us back onto that road we used on the way into the town?” Chris asked.
“I might be able to if that thing keeps off our backs. Why? You got a plan?”
“I don't know. I might have.”
Chris called Sister Sarah over.
“That thing is going to be back on us at any moment, but I think I might have an idea of how to stop it. But we're going to need your help one more time, Sister.”
She gave an exhausted smile and nodded.
“Whatever you need, Christopher. I will do what I can.”
When Chris finished laying out the idea, both fell silent. Then Pete laughed.
“You are a crazy man, brother of mine, but fuck it! Let’s go for it!” he cried.
Chris smiled. “You think you're up for this, Sister?”
“I don't know, Christopher, but I'll try.”
“That's all we ask.”
Another roar filled the sky, and Chris looked to the road. The creature was back, and approaching fast. He brandished his shotgun and was ready to take it on again.
“Everyone grab a hold of something,” Pete said. “We've got a sharp corner coming up!”
Chris and Sarah grabbed onto what they could to keep them steady. The creature was almost upon them, its terrible jaws opening to strike.
Suddenly there came the screech of brakes, and Chris felt himself lurch backwards. Tyres spun, and the vehicle swerved violently. He saw the eyes of the Hellhound burning bright, before disappearing out of view.
The van skidded rapidly around the corner, narrowly avoiding the traffic lights at the junction, which were all signalling red. The Hellhound snapped its jaws at the vehicle, but all they found was thin air as the little white van performed evasive maneouvres. The creature screeched as it ploughed into the front of a little post office. It hit the building like a wrecking ball, sending brick and glass in all directions.
Pete pressed his foot to the floor and, god bless it, the van responded. They shot across a couple of small roundabouts, devoid of life, and headed out of the village. He didn’t know how much the vehicle had left in it, but he willed it on with everything he had.
“We're almost there!” he shouted to the back, where his brother and Sister Sarah were preparing.
Behind a broken box of what looked like rosary beads, Sarah found a small bag of white granules. Quickly opening it, she checked its contents, ecstatic to find that it was consecrated salt. Exactly what she needed.
“Found some!” she yelled.
“Great,” Chris said. “Now all we need is to make it to the—”
The creature roared, had returned to the chase. This time there were no parked cars to slow it down, no more buildings for it to smash into. The van was on an open country road leading out of town.
“Can you go any faster?” Chris asked his brother as he planted his feet and rested the shotgun in his hands.
“My foot’s on the floor!” Pete replied. The engine was doing everything it could, but the beat-up machine couldn’t be pushed anymore.
Just then, Pete saw the old, stone bridge that led out of town. They had almost made it. He just needed the van to give him one last push.
Chris fired another shot at the Hellbeast. This time the blast caught it in the shoulder, but the hound didn’t even flinch. He snapped the shotgun open and removed the spent shells. He grabbed hold of two more shells and slotted them into the barrels. Once more he snapped it shut, but when he looked up, he saw that the creature had lowered its head and put on a burst of speed.
It rammed into the back of the v
an with such force that it lifted it off of its back wheels. The van flipped onto its bumper and skidded on the road for a second. Pushed along by two giant horns, it veered off the road and clipped the stone wall of the bridge. Metal and stonework thundered together in a cacophony of damage, splintering carnage into the air. The van, its side mashed to hell, spun once more in the air before landing roof-first with a huge splash in the water.
The Hellbeast stood upon the ruined bridge, hungrily staring down below as the van sank into the waters of the UK's largest duck pond.
***
Dark water rushed into the cab, hitting Pete in the face. He tasted copper in his mouth and knew that somewhere in the chaos he had bitten his lip. With a bump, the van stopped its descent, but he knew they had to get out of the cab fast, or they would be fish food.
Unbuckling his seatbelt, he dropped downwards, clumsily grabbing the lip of the smashed driver’s side window. He tried to pull himself out. Tired, injured, and yet somehow he managed to get out. The swim to the surface was a short one, but every movement was agony. When he broke the surface, he felt the cool early evening air on his face, and the welcome feel of fresh oxygen in his lungs.
He took several deep gulps of it as he splashed on the surface, before regaining his composure. He glanced over to where he had popped up from, and saw only the bottoms of four tyres protruding from the water.
Bubbles drifted up at the side of the van, and as Pete trod water he saw his brother and Sister Sarah appear from the depths.
The nun looked to be unconscious; watery blood was trickling down her face. Chris took a few deep breaths of night air, before looking across to the water’s edge. He began swimming backwards with the unconscious nun in his arms, heading as fast as he could to the bank. Pete swam over to his brother and helped him drag Sister Sarah onto the murky green reeds. As they dragged her up onto the grass, Pete noticed that the young nun had something in her hand.
It was a poly bag filled with large, white salt granules.
The nun opened her eyes faintly, and then, to his surprise, she winked. He looked up at his brother, who was gathering his breath.
Just then, there was a metallic crunch.
The brothers, soaked to the bone, injured and exhausted, turned back to the submerged van. They both sighed at the sight of the big, black Hellhound, perched there. Black tendrils writhed all around it, and the fires of its eyes were brighter than ever. Dark shapes moved beneath its skin. The weight of the creature pushed the van deeper into the pond.
The creature cared not, instead letting out a mighty roar of victory as its huge claw crushed one of the wheels.
“Yeah, well, fuck you too!” Pete shouted.
As he and Chris climbed out of the pond, the beast unleashed an enormous oily tentacle from its body. With a snap, it wrapped itself around Pete’s arm. With a quick yank, it pulled the Idol brother off his feet and dumped him back in the murky water of the pond.
Chris spun around and made to move when another dark, black tendril flew out. This one wrapped around his waist. He felt like he was being jabbed by a thousand pins and cried out in pain, before he was lifted into the air.
The creature pulled him close, and he felt the heat of it stifling his lungs. Getting a better view of it, he saw clearer what was moving beneath the black, sickly pungent substance this thing called skin. Hundreds of large, demonic faces passed through the creature, all as angry and ecstatic as the last. This thing was made up of all of the demons that had come to kill them.
Another tentacle splashed deep into the water, and when it retracted, Peter Idol was attached to it, upside down and coughing up water. The van lurched and lowered further into the water. The beast didn’t care. It had what it came for, and was delighted to prolong their agony. It did not want this to be quick.
It wanted to enjoy it.
It opened its enormous jaws, and Chris thought that he was going to be thrown in. Instead, the beast cried in a hundred voices:
“FINALLY, WE HAVE YOU IN OUR GRASP! NO MORE RUNNING. NO MORE HIDING. NO MORE OF YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO DELAY THE INEVITABLE. WE SHALL DEVOUR YOU, TEAR THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES AND DRAG YOU WITH US TO THE PITS OF TORMENT.”
Things didn't look good. In fact, the situation looked downright horrible.
“You ok, bruv?” Chris shouted over to Pete, who was still upside down.
“I've been better, I won't lie,” he replied. “But it could be worse, I suppose.”
“WORSE?!” the creature sang. “WE ARE THE HARBINGERS OF YOUR DEMISE! WE ARE GOING TO MAKE SPORT OF YOUR SUFFERING FOR ETERNITY!”
“You're going to do nothing of the sort, you ugly wanker,” Chris said.
A hundred growling laughs filling the air. The creature pulled him close, and the stench of its sulphuric body was overpowering. He fought the urge to gag. The tentacle squeezed him tighter, and he let out a cry of pain.
The beast lifted Pete up by the feet until he was almost level with his brother.
“Hey you! Fat prick!” Pete shouted. “When you get back to Hell, be sure to give one of these to your boss.”
Several flaming eyes settled on Pete’s middle finger salute, and the nightmare dog gritted its teeth and squeezed. Pete felt the tightness around his leg and screamed.
“ANY LAST WORDS BEFORE WE BEGIN THE TORMENT OF YOUR MORTAL SOULS?”
Chris kicked out at the tentacle holding him in place. “You've already lost!”
“DON'T TRY AND FOOL US WITH ANY MORE OF YOUR LIES, YOU PATHETIC MANFLESH. WE HAVE DEFEATED YOU.”
“What you've actually done,” Chris said, “is spend far too much time beating the crap out of us, when you should have been focusing on the only person here who can actually bless things.”
Chris watched as the penny dropped on the monster’s face. It snapped its head down and focused on the small figure at the edge of the duck pond.
Sister Sarah was stood in the water up to her knees, had her head down, and was concentrating hard. Her mouth was moving, and Chris knew she was chanting. Without looking up, she opened the bag of salt and sprinkled it into the water.
The Hellhound realised what was happening. It cried out in panic and looked down at the water below. Steam began to roll across the river and it bubbled where it splashed against the Hellhound’s body. There was a vast hissing noise, and the beast unleashed a hundred screams of pain at once. The tendrils holding the brothers waved back and forth like ragdolls. Chris felt a sharp pain in his side before the tentacle let him go. He spun in the air, waving his arms madly before hitting the water with a splash. A second later, Pete was released from the demonic grasp of the hound, and flipped a couple of times in the air like some terrible gymnast before hitting the water with the most fantastic belly flop.
The water bubbled and hissed and began to melt away the Hellhound as the religious blessing began to take hold. The creature could not escape, its legs trapped within the waters like quicksand. It began to slowly trudge through the pond towards Sister Sarah, its body breaking down.
She glanced up, the breath catching in her throat as she saw the beast coming towards her, but she quickly regained composure and chanted, blessing the water again.
With each word that passed her lips, the Hellhound screamed anew. With each step its body deteriorated further.
Sister Sarah chanted faster and faster.
“NOOOOO!” the Hellhound gargled. “WE WILL NOT BE SENT BACK AGAIN!”
The water bubbled and splashed. The hound seemed to shrink and sag in the river. The reek of sulphur and tar grew stronger. The brothers had to fight the urge to cover their noses as they continued to tread water, watching it all unfold. The beast screamed and thrashed as the water dissolved its corporeal body. The steam grew thicker and thicker, billowing up around the remnants of its body.
“IT'S NOT FAIR!” the demonic voices screeched, their cries fading as the beast’s head disappeared beneath the surface. The horns were the last to go.
Sarah,
pretty much finished with her ritual, raised her head and watched the water for any activity. When she was confident that the evil had been dealt with, she relaxed. The first thing she felt wasn't relief, but a severe wooziness. Then she began to see stars. The Idol brothers paddled over to her, through the foul stench of the oily black in the water. She looked exhausted, and they knew they had to get to her soon. As Chris swam, he felt more stinging in his side, and figured he had probably cracked a rib.
“Amen,” were Sister Sarah's last words, before her eyes closed and she fell face first into the water.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE END TIMES
When she opened her eyes, Sister Sarah found herself once again on the bank of the pond. The soft grass was cold against her soaking wet skin, but as she looked up at the sky, she noticed that it was light now. She sat up, her body aching. The scratches on her back stung from the water, but she didn't care. She was alive.
“Nice work, Sister,” Chris said. He was sitting next to her on the bank, nursing his sore side.
“I can't believe that worked,” Sister Sarah said. “I've never done anything like that before.”
“I'm not sure anyone has.” Chris smiled at her. “You've obviously got a lot of faith.”
“My faith is everything to me. But still, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to turn an entire pond into holy water.”
Pete sat down next to her and patted her on the back.
“It's good to know that, when the chips are down, God's got your back, isn't it?” Pete said, fishing through his jacket pockets. “If he didn't, we’d all be dead.”
Sister Sarah smiled. Her faith has been tested, and when it mattered most, it had been rewarded. Her body was beaten and broken, and the cold air chilled her skin, but inside she felt warm.
“In terms of references, that’s a pretty good one to put on your cv,” Chris chuckled, before wincing in pain.
Pete pulled a soggy packet of cigarettes from his pocket, cursed, and looked distraught.
“We had better make a move. There’s a handful of students who are wondering what the hell just happened to their lodgings, no doubt.”
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