Dance For The Devil

by S. Kodejs

  “There’s still time to do the right thing,” she countered.

  Gil looked disappointed. “Obviously, we will not see eye-to-eye. Run along now, I’m rather busy.” He rubbed his erect penis against Amy’s panties and the girl began to wail. “But I expect you can see that.”

  “I said: Let her go, Vandercamp.”

  He halted for a second, narrowing his eyes, then relaxed. “Your power is no match for mine.”

  Eyes locked with his, Cari summoned every ounce of herself, meeting his energy head on. She knew immediately he was right: her power was overwhelmed, a mere teaspoon of water against a crashing wave. When had he become so strong? During their previous meeting she hadn’t felt a tenth of this strength. It was like hitting a stone wall, and the evil swirled around her like rotten-maggots, burrowing into her skin, her pores, her brain, making her head feel like it would split into a thousand pieces.

  Gil laughed. “Impressive, eh? I’ve collected the souls of my entire congregation and I hold them in me, ready to travel. I’ve consumed their energy, rudimentary and untamed... and I am flying!”

  Cari held a hand to her temple. “Let the child go.”

  “Never.”

  She fought against exhaustion. Her powers had been reduced to an ineffectual barrier. “Take me instead.”

  That caused Gil a moment of pause. “You?” His interest piqued for a microsecond as he glanced over her. “Why would I want you?”

  “You could have my powers too.”

  Gil snorted. “I can have them anyway. You’re fading, my dear. You’ll only last a moment or two before I consume you.”

  It was true. She felt the tendrils of evil snaking into her brain. She gave one last effort as he turned to dismiss her, bending to probe his erection into a sobbing Amy. “Listen,” Cari commanded. “I carry Jake’s seed, it has begun to blossom and will become twins. A boy and a girl, each carrying his likeness.”

  “Twins?” He paused, studying Cari intently. “Yes, I see that it’s true.” Gil grew excited, moving away from Amy.

  “Think about it,” Cari offered. “The energy from two-newly formed fetuses, only hours after conception, cells dividing and multiplying. The power would be enormous and the source would be inconceivably pure.”

  “You love him?”

  “Yes,” Cari whispered.

  “Enough to give your life for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Freely and willingly?”

  She never paused. “Yes.”

  Gil moistened his lips. “The purest sacrifice of all, with the added bonus of owning all of his women. The wife, the daughter, and now the lover. What a compelling offer.”

  “Untie Amy first.”

  Gil cocked his head. “There’s no time. Strip off your clothing and we’ll do it over there.”

  Cari narrowed her eyes. “I may be laying with the devil but I don’t trust him. What will stop you from returning to Amy once you’ve finished with me?”

  Gil laughed. “Your expectations of my sexual prowess are flattering. In the same vein, how do I know you won’t renege on your part of the bargain once I untie her?”

  “You said it yourself, your powers are stronger than mine. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”

  “True, but put like that, why should I let her go at all? Perhaps I can, as they say, have my cake and eat it too.”

  “But that cake won’t be complacent. A willing sacrifice holds more power.”

  He laughed again, delighted. “Sound reasoning. Alright, untie the girl yourself, then we’ll commence.”

  Cari hurried over and began to unfasten Amy’s bound wrists. The girl’s fingers were white, indication the straps were too tight. Cari fumbled with the gag as Amy rubbed her hands together, trying to restore circulation.

  “Go quickly,” Cari demanded softly. “Don’t look back. Help is waiting for you on the outside.”

  “Who are you?” Amy gasped, gulping great swallows of fresh air.

  “A friend... go.”

  “But why are you doing this? He’s crazy, he’ll kill you.”

  Cari looked directly at the girl. “Go, Amy, run away before he changes his mind. This will be wasted if you don’t leave now.”

  Amy hesitated for a moment, then looked at Vandercamp, making his way across the room. “Thank you,” she whispered, backing away. She didn’t look backwards as she fled through the doorway to safety.

  “Touching,” Gil remarked. “Ready?”

  Cari squared her shoulders. When the first blow came, it was unexpected, and it sent her reeling. She steadied herself, touching her lips gingerly, tasting the blood. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice sounding funny through the swollen cheek. “I told you I wouldn’t fight.”

  “Oh, but it is necessary,” he said, and slammed a fist into her stomach. “Makes it much more fun. So, where is he?”

  She fought the urge to vomit. “Who?”

  “No games, sweetheart. If you’re here, Montclaire won’t be far behind. I’ve got plans for him, too.”

  “No! That’s not part of the deal.”

  He looked at her squarely, sending a lightning bolt of pain crashing through her temple. Cari squinted, surprised to see his hands still at his side. So he hadn’t even touched her – his power had progressed that far.

  “He’s as good as dead already.” Gil nodded his head at Bobby-Dean’s impaled body. “The house is rigged with surprises. Lover-boy is probably sliced to pieces. He’ll make great dog food.”

  The thin wail of sirens wafted overhead. “Ah, we have company. That means we truly do have to hurry. Get ready, dear, for the ride of your life.”

  **

  Jake could hear voices but he couldn’t see – the passageway was in total blackness. He’d finally found the secret trigger located inside a hidden box in the altar, and a door swung open to reveal this tunnel. He felt his way along, certain this was the route Gil had taken.

  It was dank and airless. His progress was slow, impeded by the twisting, sloping path. He came to an opening of sorts and found the path split into three. He waved his hand into the first opening and felt the silky-stickiness of spider webs. Not this way, then. Webs would have been broken by Gil’s passing. A quick feel into the other openings told him which direction to take.

  Then, voices. The deep timber of a male. A thud, and a higher pitched gasp. His gut sank: Cari, in trouble.

  His hands rubbed agitatedly over the stone walls, searching for a way to get through. Another trick, but how? He heard a grunt, then a masculine laugh. Christ, the bastard was torturing her.

  His rage threatened to overcome him, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and regain composure. He had the element of surprise, he had a gun, and when the moment arrived, he would gleefully blow Gil Vandercamp to kingdom-come without a qualm. Now, where was the logical place to locate a lever?

  Then it hit him. Not logical, the illogical. Nothing about Gil Vandercamp was logical. Why should this be any different? If Jake was building a secret passage, he’d put the opener somewhere accessible. Gil would have the aid of a flashlight when he travelled through here, so he wouldn’t have to fumble around...

  It occurred to Jake that Gil wouldn’t be able to fumble, especially if he was dragging someone. He’d need his hands free to carry both the flashlight and his victim. So that left his feet.

  Bingo. Jake felt around with his toes, stubbing them on a lever which protruded from the rear wall. Only a whisper of sound as the door swung outward, opening the room to view.

  Jake took it in with a glance. The bloody carnage that used to be Bobby-Dean. Cari, her shirt torn, her face swollen, her eyes closed, standing docilely as Gil hit her. Gil naked, his handsome face contorted until it looked ugly and obscene. The face of insanity.

  Intent on Cari, Gil failed to notice Jake and he bent forward, clawing at Cari’s pants. “Back off you rotten bastard,” Jake yelled, steadying his gun. “Cari, move away.”

&nb
sp; “Jake!” Cari gasped. “Watch out!”

  Jake turned to see a giant sword swing down from the ceiling. At the last moment he dove, landing in a heap. He looked up in time to see Cari’s face one last time before the blood-stained fist of Gil Vandercamp came crashing forward to hit him in the face. And then there was nothing.

  **

  “I enjoyed that,” Gil stated with self-satisfaction. “I’ve been itching to do that for years. Now, I figure we have less than ten minutes before the moral majority finds us. My guards at the front gate will be able to keep the boys-in-blue occupied for only so long. So, my dear, where were we?”

  Cari groaned. Jake had been her last hope. She tried one last time to attack Gil with her psychic powers.

  “Valiant, but feeble,” he mocked. “Now, come on, a promise is a promise. Take off your pants and spread your legs. Be a good girl now, don’t make me hit you again.”

  “Like hell,” she hissed, swirling around. She struck him on the side of his face with her fist.

  He staggered, smiling bigger. “Ah, it’s like that, huh? Okay, you pagan-bitch, you’re in for it now.”

  He came at her like a raging bull. There was no escape, and she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the collision. If only she could get him off balance –

  A deafening sound echoed through the room. Cari looked up to see Gil laying face up, dark blood oozing from a half-dozen walnut-size holes in the center of his chest.

  “Take that, asshole,” a thin voice cursed, and Cari swung around to see a young girl holding Jake’s scattergun in her shaking hand.

  “Who are you?” Cari asked, taking in the girl’s bedraggled appearance, frightened eyes, and the unmistakable signs of a second-trimester pregnancy-swollen belly.

  “Charise Lee. I’m fourteen years old, and I’ve been here for a long time. I want to go home.”

  Cari looked back at Gil. He was still alive. Blood was bubbling from his chest at an alarming rate, and he was twitching sporadically. He was trying to work his mouth, but nothing came out. “Give me the gun, Charise. Please, let it go. You’re shaking so badly you’re liable to shoot yourself in the foot.”

  “I want to shoot him again,” Charise said shakily.

  “I know, me too. But look at him, he’s finished. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Cari held her hand out and gently dislodged the weapon. “I need your help, Charise. Are there other girls here?”

  Charise nodded. “Four of us.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Don’t know. Gone. Gina went one way and Lauren went the other. Outside, I think. Gina said we had to go in different directions, so I had to come down here. Didn’t want to. Hate it down here. But there was no other choice. So I hid in a cupboard and was too scared to come out, even when I saw him hurting Amy... and you. I saw through the keyhole.” She nodded at Jake. “When that man fell in front of me, I saw his gun and I didn’t think anymore, just started moving.” A sudden thought twigged and she looked at Cari. “Will I go to jail for shooting him?”

  “No, honey,” Cari said, stroking her hair. “They don’t put people in jail for that, they give them medals.”

  **

  Gina heard the sirens and renewed her thrashing. “Let me go, you fucking bastard,” she cursed.

  “Stop struggling,” the tall man ordered. “I am trying to help you, not hurt you.”

  She paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

  “Look,” he said, bringing down his raised arm. “You’ve got string wrapped around your neck from one of my traps. I’m just trying to loosen it before you strangle yourself.”

  The sirens grew louder. “Your traps?” she said warily, eyeing his midsection. If he moved slightly forward, she’d be able to give him a good kick in the balls.

  “I live on the property next door, and I was tracking a deer. Usually they won’t come anywhere near this place on account of the electric fence, and when I saw the stag butting up against it, it got me curious. Power was turned off. Look,” he said, pulling the string gently away from her neck, “I know I’m trespassing, but I got so damn curious I forgot about the deer and decided to come for a look-see. My wife says I’m too damn nosy, and maybe it’s true, but I had to see for myself.”

  “See what?” she asked suspiciously.

  “What goes on here. Something’s not right, you know. Something wrong is going on here, some kind of funny business. For years this place was peaceful, never saw a soul. Then a flurry of activity. They throw up this fence, people coming and going at all hours...funny business. You know anything about it?” He pushed his hat off his face and for the first time Gina could clearly see his face. He was weathered and kindly-looking, much like her grandfather, and she suddenly understood she was in no danger from him.

  “Yeah, mister,” she said, accepting his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What I know could fill a book.”

  **

  Jake struggled to consciousness amid a swirl of bright lights and commotion. Somebody was peering into his eyes with a flashlight and he pushed him away gruffly.

  Cari was there at once. “It’s okay,” she told the paramedic. “I’ll take care of him, go see to the others.” She cradled Jake’s head in her lap. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, stroking the dark hair, “you missed the party.”

  He looked around, squinting. “Looks like a hell of a party. Amy...?”

  “She’s fine. Outside, in the ambulance.”

  “I’ve got to see her.”

  “You will. And there’s someone else waiting for you, too. Your son.”

  “Skeet?” Jake struggled to get up. “Where?”

  “Sergeant Carmichael brought him. He’s outside, with Amy. Your children are safe, Jake. All your babies are safe.”

  “Thank God,” he said. He reached for her, holding her tightly, and began to weep.

  **

  Sergeant Benny Carmichael surveyed the grim carnage in the room. A younger officer left abruptly, heaving as he exited. Carmichael knew how he felt. His own stomach, despite several decades on the force, threatened to give way. There were too many bodies, too much suffering to feel differently. It was like a war zone.

  “Christ, there has to be at least a hundred bodies in here,” someone remarked.

  Carmichael began barking orders. “Keep the press out, they’re going to have a field day with this.”

  “Sergeant!”

  Benny turned abruptly, concerned with the tone of the voice.

  “We just found kids in another room, a whole swack of them. It looks pretty bad. You’d better come in and see.” The bleakness of the officer’s voice gave Carmichael indication of just how bad it would be, and he steeled himself. It was one thing seeing a roomful of dead adults, quite another to see murdered children.

  He followed the officer and entered the room. Over a dozen small bodies lay scattered about, some still clenching the paper drink cups.

  The surreal scene struck the Sergeant oddly from the first moment, but it took several long seconds to put his finger on it. At first glance, this room was a gruesome replica of the other, played out in duplicate on a lesser scale both in the size and number of the tiny victims. Then it struck him: the expressions were different. Where the adults wore contorted, obscene grimaces attesting to hideous pain, the children seemed at peace. Like they were sleeping.

  Carmichael bent and felt for a pulse on the first limp wrist he came upon. Nothing. He waited.

  Nothing.

  He fumbled around, searching for the vein again, and waited.

  There it was. A single, faint beat. He nodded and went to the next child, trying again. He repeated the process over and over. When he turned, his attending officers were surprised to see the wide grin spreading across his face. “They’re not dead,” he stated.

  “Yeah? They’re sure as hell not sleeping.”

  “No, they’re in comas, drug-induced comas. Somebody get a paramedic.”

  A paramedic was
produced promptly. “What would do this?” Benny demanded.

  The paramedic felt for a pulse, waited, then checked another child, a small blond girl with ringlets. He looked back at Carmichael and scratched his head. “My guess? Beta blocker of some type – Inderal, maybe. Slows the pulse and heartbeat. Mimics death.”

  “By why?”

  “Maybe someone wanted them to look dead. Whoever did it probably saved their lives.”

  “When will it wear off?”

  The paramedic shrugged. “Depends on the dosage.” He began to check the other children. “But I suspect, in five or six hours, these munchkins will be back to normal.”

  **

  Gil Vandercamp had the oddest feeling as the two paramedics clamored over his body. It felt like he was watching from below, yet also from above, as if he was viewing the room from the ceiling. It felt like he was floating in a sea of pain... no, that wasn’t it, exactly. He felt as if he was consumed by pain, as if every molecule was afire.

  He could hear them speaking but couldn’t understand what they were saying. He watched their mouths working like marionettes, but the words were garbled and nonsensical. Even their actions were confusing: What the hell were they doing to him?

  Gil began to panic – yet outwardly it made no difference. His body remained inert, broken. At the precise moment he was shot, a massive color-burst lit up the inside of his head. A brilliant lightshow that both frightened and dazzled him – a spectacle that that lit up his nervous system like gallons of hydrochloric acid were running though his veins.

  Afterwards, all external images and stimuli were completely disrupted by the intensity of the internal atrocities, yet his brain was as vibrant and clear as ever. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t gone to the other side. He hadn’t gone to join his family and followers and his sacred Seth on the Dark Side. Instead, he was trapped here in a world of unrelenting pain, being poked and prodded by a couple of idiots who looked and sounded like aliens.

  One of the aliens was looking at him right now, staring into his eyeballs, which intensified the pain to unimaginable heights. Gil tried to shrink back in horror: the sight of the man was hideous – juxtaposed Picasso face and slime oozing from his mouth instead of words – but Gil’s body refused to move. He tried to scream as the alien creature breathed postulant bacteria directly into Gil’s burning nostrils, but his voice remained barren. He tried to close his eyes but they remained wide-open, and his eyeballs felt as if they were being shredded by razor blades. What were they doing? Why were they making the pain worse? Why wouldn’t they make it stop?