This was exactly what Aimi and Hikari wouldn’t want him to do. Wrapping himself in his grief and misery, while understandable, was hardly a positive step. He had to go on. To move on with his life and do what he had been tasked with. For their sakes.
He needed to do something. Anything to keep him busy and take his mind off the shattering events of the last few hours. Taking a bucket of water from the large rain barrel they used for watering the garden, he climbed up onto the roof. It didn’t take him long to extinguish all the embers from the hail of fire that were starting to smoulder.
Back in the house, he went upstairs and into his bedroom. On the only shelf in the room was his sword rack. His swords were nestled within it, waiting for him.
Strapping them on, he returned downstairs and left by the front door.
It was dark now and the street was deserted. The lights were still on but Sam didn’t think that would last long. Some of the less damaged shops had lights on, too, but Sam suspected that they were automated. The practical side of his nature told him that he’d have to check those shops out shortly for supplies but that was a job for another day.
Right now, he had something more important to do.
Providence Street had survived the earthquake more or less intact. The front veranda of Father Rainey’s house had collapsed though, making entry that way into the house almost impossible. Sam was forced to go around the back. Inside, the house was as empty as his own.
It looked like the priest and his nephew had both been taken by the Rapture. After pacing around the house for a while, Sam finally noticed that something was different: the lack of nausea. Normally, being this close to the church would make him sick to his stomach.
Curious, he left the house and walked up to the iron gates that marked the entrance to the church. Still nothing. Experimentally, already wincing in anticipation of the pain, he placed one foot in the grounds. He almost cried out with the surprising lack of … well, anything. There was absolutely no sensation.
He took another step. Nothing. Confident that the church grounds had suddenly lost their ability to hurt him, he started walking towards the front door.
Then a smooth voice that he recognized immediately stopped him cold in his tracks.
“We meet again, Samael.”
Sitting on the roof of the church was the demon he met many months earlier - the one that he’d promised himself he would kill.
“You’re looking well,” said the demon sarcastically, his eyes running over the scorched parts of Sam’s clothing.
“You won’t be looking so well if you came down here and faced me.”
“Ooh, I’m scared,” said the demon, pretending to be fearful. “You really are quite angry, aren’t you?”
“I’ll show you just how angry I can be if you give me an opportunity.”
The demon laughed. “Yes. I like that anger. Keep hold of it; it will come in useful later on.”
“What do you want?” demanded Sam.
“Just paying a courtesy call,” said the demon, smiling. “Wanted to see how you liked what we’ve done with the place. And when I mean the place, I mean the Earth.”
Sam pinched his lips shut, refusing to be antagonized by this creature. “What have you done here?”
“You mean the church? Bit different since last time you were here, isn’t it? It’s simple, really. We’ve brought hell to Earth and as such, these grounds are no long holy. Go on. Have a look for yourself. I know you want to.”
Sam glared at him suspiciously, sensing a trick. But he did really want to go inside. The last time, in spite of the pain and suffering it had caused, had been an experience like no other. He was intensely curious.
Keeping a wary eye on the demon perched above him, he walked up the stairs. The doors, as usual, were ajar. Inside, nothing seemed to be amiss at first. He walked down the row of pews, wary and alert for the first signs of danger or something out of place.
At the foot of the altar lay the statue of Christ. Whether it had fallen during the earthquake or been smashed by inhuman hands, Sam didn’t know. The result was the same - it had been shattered into a thousand different pieces. Sam remembered how the statue had looked at him years earlier and was filled with sadness. As he got closer, he realized that there was something staining the altar. It looked like blood. He got closer; yes, it was definitely blood. He could smell the metallic tang in the air
He turned to find the demon just a handful of feet away from him, smiling. Enmity surged through him. “What have you done here?” he roared and charged at the creature.
The demon smiled and simply disappeared a fraction of a second before Sam could reach him, reappearing several more feet away.
“You would be wise to stop doing that,” said the demon as Sam charged towards him again.
This time, just before Sam could grab him, some force slammed into him, throwing him off his feet and backwards into the wall of the church. Pews exploded around him as he slammed into the ground. He lay prone on the flagstones, stunned.
Eventually, with a groan, he sat up. The demon was sitting cross-legged on one of the nearby pews. “I warned you,” he said, still smirking.
Sam glared at him and got gingerly to his feet. Nothing appeared broken although experience had taught him that his bones were unusually tough and despite his rigorous combat training, he had never once broken a bone. He looked behind him. The church wall was shattered where he had impacted with it. A human would have been crushed by such an impact.
He really couldn’t work this demon out. It was clearly a very powerful creature; probably one of the Princes of Hell. Obviously, it could kill him if it wanted. Why hadn’t it?
“Just kill me and get it over with,” he said.
The demon laughed. “Why would I want to do that? Plans are afoot. There is much you are required to do before your time is up. There are things I need you to do for me.”
“For you?” said Sam, aghast. “I’ll never do anything for you.”
“Not consciously, no,” the demon concurred. “But it’s the things you’ll do of your own free will that I’m interested in.”
Sam didn’t know what to say to that. This demon confused him, and he suspected it was deliberate. He changed the subject. “What have you done to the altar?”
For a second, the handsome features of the demon flickered, to be replaced by something so horrible that Sam’s mind refused to acknowledge it. It was so quick that Sam thought he was seeing things, as the shock of the Rapture and Tribulation took their toll on him.
The demon considered Sam for a moment without speaking, almost as if he was reassessing the teenager that stood before him. Something in his manner changed and he suddenly became less flippant, less charming.
“We’ve done here what is being done to every church in the world. We purged it, with blood as you can see. The altar and the cross were the chief symbols of the power that used to dominate here. We destroyed their ability to influence the petty humans you love so much.”
Understanding came to Sam in a sudden rush. “You sacrificed someone?” he whispered in horror.
“Don’t worry, it was no-one you knew. Well, no-one you knew very well, at least. You really should go home and rest now. There’s a few surprises in store for you. You’re going to need your strength over the next few nights.”
Sam felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and he covered his face with his hands in despair. The demons had killed someone on the altar, just to ensure that any survivors couldn’t use this place as a refuge. Fury grew within him again. Suddenly, he didn’t care what this demon could do to him, didn’t care that his powers were much greater than his. All he wanted to do was put his blades between the creature’s ribs.
He took his hands away from his face but he was too late; the demon had gone, and he was alone in the desecrated church.
Numb, he stumbled outside. The rooftop was empty. For the first time, he noticed that the cross on the church steeple ha
d fallen down. He searched around the grounds and found the heavy iron object broken on the ground. Normally, he could feel the holiness of objects such as this one radiating their purity. Now, he just felt nothing. The broken cross was now nothing more than two pieces of metal.
Suddenly, he wanted to be gone from this place. It was no longer a beacon for good. The demons had taken that away, just like they had taken away any chance of salvation.
With one last glum look backwards, he made his way slowly out of the church yard.
He spent the rest of the night wandering the streets aimlessly, unwilling to go home to an empty house just yet. Here and there, he saw someone who had not been taken by the Rapture. They looked confused and lost and all but ignored him. He did the same, too wrapped up in his own misery to consider the needs of others.
The clouds were still rolling angrily above him, a solid unbroken mass. Ash fell relentlessly as did the occasional larger burning fragment. Dawn came and went, with not one opportunity for the sun to break through. Everything about him was grey, as if the Tribulation had sucked all colour out of the world.
He was walking along one of the streets around midday when a dishevelled woman ran towards him. She seemed oblivious to the swords that jutted from Sam’s hip and shoulder.
“Have you seen them?” she asked, her eyes wide and constantly moving.
“Seen who?” asked Sam calmly.
“My husband and my children.” She grabbed him by the arm and looked him in the eye. Something in his eyes
-possibly the blackness - seemed to unsettle her and she
quickly took her hands off him as if she’d been stung.
“What are you?”
“Someone like yourself,” he replied. “Lost and alone.”
Madness seemed to reassert itself suddenly. “Have you seen them?” she asked again.
He shook his head sadly. “No. Sorry, ma’am.”
“They were right here with me,” she sobbed. “My little boy was in my arms but I couldn’t stop him. He just went and there was nothing I could do. Please tell me how to get them back.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sam. “I don’t know how.”
She screamed and suddenly launched herself at him. He grabbed her arms as she flailed about helplessly. Eventually, she became exhausted and stopped struggling, and Sam released her hands. She looked at him strangely for a moment and then wandered off down the street. Sam saw her approach one of the other few people on the street and begin questioning them.
Saddened beyond measure, he turned away.
In the afternoon, he began investigating the shops along Main Street. He’d never been into many of them before despite the fact that they were not far from his own house. Under different circumstances, he would have looked forward to it.
The camping and outdoor supply stores that catered to the needs of tourists were his obvious targets. One had already burnt down. Another one nearby had been severely damaged by the earthquake, making it a highly risky proposition. It looked like it was about to fall down any second. The third one he checked out was reasonably intact. Inside was a different story. Much of the equipment had fallen off the shelves, creating a jumbled pile of assorted goods on the floor.
He tensed when he heard the tell-tale scrape of a boot against the floor. Two men emerged from behind a shelf. One carried a baseball bat, the other a high-calibre hunting rifle.
“What do you want here?” asked the larger of the two.
“I just need some supplies,” said Sam.
“Well, you can’t have them,” said the bigger man. “They’re ours.”
Sam nodded. “You own the store then?”
The men turned and grinned at each other. The big man looked back at Sam, still grinning. “Nope, but with the recent developments around here, I’d say that whoever had the biggest gun got the biggest share of everything.” He tapped his rifle meaningfully.
“I don’t need much,” said Sam reasonably. “Just a few tins of food. Maybe a gas cooker and a pack.”
“You don’t listen very well, do you, young fella?” growled the big man. “I said all this stuff belongs to us. Go and find your own store.”
Trying desperately to control his temper, Sam said in a low voice, “This is the last camping store standing.”
“Well, that’s just bad luck for you. Get,” he said, lowering his rifle and pointing it in Sam’s direction.
“Look,” he said, “I can see a cooker right here.”
He bent down, reaching for the portable gas device. There was a great roar in his ears and then it felt like a giant had punched him. Suddenly he was sprawled on his back, lying amongst the jumble of camping supplies. His chest hurt.
“Now, why did you have to go and do that for, Jed,” Sam heard the other man say through the ringing in his ears. “You didn’t have to kill him.”
“Yes, I did,” Jed replied vehemently. “He was trying to take our stuff.”
Sam touched the point on his chest where it hurt, feeling the hole in his hoodie where the bullet had passed through. He lifted his fingers up to his eyes, expecting blood, but his fingers were clean. There was no wound, just a dull ache where the bullet had bounced off.
Though he was surprised, Sam realized he should have expected this. Hikari and he had conducted various experiments using non-iron weapons. Sure, he could be hit by them and even bruised, but he couldn’t be cut or pierced. Knives, axes and other blades simply bounced off him. If it wasn’t iron, it couldn’t kill him. They’d never tried it with a high-powered rifle though, Hikari being too nervous to risk the chance that he might be wrong. Sam hadn’t been that keen to test the theory either. He was glad he hadn’t; that rifle had the kick of a mule. It wasn’t something that he was keen to experience again in a hurry. Lately, everyone seemed to be having a turn at kicking him around.
For the second time in a few hours, he groaned and sat up.
The expressions on the faces of the two men were comical. Sam had never seen two men more surprised in his entire life. Sam could understand their confusion. By rights, a rifle of the calibre held in the hands of the bigger man should’ve punched a hole clean through him and probably through the wall of the shop as well. Especially at close range. Any other man – even one wearing a bullet proof vest – would be dead.
“But … but,” stammered Jed, “You were dead.”
Both men could clearly see that all Sam was wearing was a light hooded sweatshirt. Pale skin gleamed through the large bullet hole in the front, easily visible.
“And now I’m not,” said Sam, getting to his feet slowly. His chest still hurt but it was nothing like the pain the demon had inflicted on him hours earlier. Oddly, he didn’t feel angry; just slightly disappointed somehow.
“But that’s impossible,” exclaimed the smaller of the two.
He walked up to the two men and took their weapons from their uncomplaining grasps.
“Let this be a lesson to you,” said Sam. “Some people coming in here might not be what they seem. From now on, I want you to give anyone who walks in that door exactly what they want. If I hear that you’ve given them trouble – any trouble at all – I’ll come right back.”
The two men nodded dumbly.
“Now, if you’d excuse me, I have some supplies to pick out.”
Out on the street, he found the woman who had confronted him earlier slumped on the sidewalk. She didn’t respond to anything he said or did. Wordlessly, he took a few tins of food out of his new backpack and left them at her feet, trying to tell her that there was more available inside the camping store. She ignored him, or perhaps didn’t see him at all, lost inside her own private nightmare. At one point, he tried to lift her to her feet but she screamed at him and scratched him with her nails. He had no choice but to leave her where she was.
Walking home, he saw a few others in the same state, utterly confused and traumatized by what had happened. He tried to help them, offering directions to the camping sto
re but, by and large, he got the same response as he had earlier with the woman. There was nothing else he could do for them. He would have to be leaving on his journey shortly and he couldn’t possibly take them with him. They would have to pull themselves together and get on with their lives despite their obvious suffering. It hurt him to leave them to their fate but he really did have no other choice.
At home, he tried to cook himself a meal only to find that the power had gone out. He used his portable gas cooker instead, boiling up some noodles that he ate absentmindedly from the same pot he cooked them in. He wasn’t really hungry – it just gave him something to do. It was odd to sit at the table in the darkness without Aimi’s happy banter and Hikari’s amused tolerance to fill the silence. He tried not to think about it.
He lit some candles and inventoried the food supplies he had in the house. There was quite a lot; enough for a week or two which meant he didn’t have to touch the food reserves he had for the trip to Los Angeles. The house next door was empty. He ransacked their food supplies too.
Water could be a problem. Grey, ash stained water trickled out of the tap, obviously unfit for drinking. The rain water barrel out the back was a better option. He disconnected the rain gutter leading from the roof to the barrel to avoid further contamination and made sure that it was securely covered. There was enough in the barrel for several days.
He tried the TV. Nothing but grey static. The emergency broadcast warning was looping on the radio. There was absolutely no internet connection. He was effectively cut off from the rest of the world.
Eventually, he decided to meditate. He wasn’t about to risk sleeping now that using the pentacle was out of the question. He could easily draw it around himself but then he would be trapped, with no-one to break the protective line of chalk.
That night, for the first time, the demons came.
He was taken completely by surprise. Deep in a meditative trance, they were almost in the house before he realized. He had sensed them earlier but just put it down to the lurking presence of the smiling traitor that seemed to haunt him on a regular basis.
Rapture Page 17