Rapture

by Phillip W. Simpson

  The Antichrist would be expecting them to travel overland from Las Vegas; he probably had no idea about Sam’s new abilities. Or did he? Would the demons they had encountered in Hell report to the Antichrist? Even if they did, they surely didn’t know where they had gone. Surely? Sam didn’t feel confident. Luck just might be on their side, but he doubted it. He certainly hadn’t had a great deal of it so far. It would be best to assume that the Antichrist knew they were in L.A, that way they would be prepared for any surprises.

  “Joshua?” asked Sam. “Any ideas where we might get some clothes?”

  “We can check out the Vestry. That’s where my uncle and the other priests got changed. There must be some clothes in there.”

  “Good enough.”

  Josh led them past the shattered altar. There were two doors on either side of it. Josh selected the left one and they found themselves in a small room containing a few free-standing wooden closets and some old benches. Sam checked the first of the closets and was rewarded with the sight of clothes hanging on racks. Not vestments either – these were the clothes the priests changed out of and in to after their services. Normal clothes. Sam silently gave his thanks.

  He selected some that he thought might fit him at a push and went into a corner to change. Joshua and Grace were rummaging around in the other closets, trying to find suitable attire.

  As Sam changed, he happened to glance over his shoulder. Grace was watching him and when their eyes met she quickly averted her gaze. “Sorry,” she said. Sam found himself blushing.

  He finished changing and examined himself. Clearly the clothes he had liberated had once dressed a smaller man. Smaller with a much larger stomach. The shirt was much too tight across his shoulders, arms and chest but billowed out over his flat stomach. The pants were better, only showing an inch or so of ankle. Next to him, Joshua had had more success – his clothes fitted him almost perfectly. Sam eyed him up jealously.

  Grace declared loudly that she had found some suitable clothes, telling the two boys that they weren’t to turn around under any circumstances. Sam confessed that he was tempted to sneak a peek as she had with him, but he wasn’t about to chance it. He’d seen how proficient she was at throwing rocks.

  Eventually, they got the all clear from Grace and turned around. She was dressed in a long sleeved shirt and suit pants. Both were too big for her diminutive frame but she had rolled up the sleeves and the legs to compensate.

  “You need a hat,” she said to Sam, running her eyes over him critically. “And something to hide your swords in. They’re a dead giveaway.”

  Sam agreed. The Antichrist’s agents would be looking for a horned boy with two swords. No point in making it easy for them.

  The three of them went through all the closets. In the last closet they searched, Joshua found a Dodgers baseball cap which he threw to Sam. It also contained a bag with two baseball bats inside. Fortunately for them, at least one priest had been a baseball fan.

  Sam put his swords and Joshua’s bat inside. The wakizashi fitted easily, but the katana poked out a little at the top. He shrugged; it would have to do. As an afterthought, he pulled out the katana again and unsheathed the sword. He tipped the sheath upside down and shook it. A tiny battered piece of white paper fluttered out.

  “What’s that?” asked Grace.

  Sam picked up the paper and unfolded it. “When we were in Black Ridge, their leader, Adam, gave me some details. He said that if we should ever make it to L.A, to look this guy up. They were in the Special Forces together. Adam’s been talking to him on the short wave radio. Last time they spoke, he and some other guys were fighting some sort of guerrilla war out here against the Antichrist. They could help us.”

  Sam had almost forgotten about the tiny scrap of paper Adam had given them just before they left Black Ridge. Part of him never thought he would actually get to

  L.A so he had put it firmly at the back of his mind. On the paper, in tiny but neat and legible script was a name and an address. He showed it to Josh.

  “Know where this is?”

  Joshua shook his head. “No idea. But I do know that there’s a book shop not far from here. There’s bound to be a map inside.”

  “Fine,” He looked at the others. “Any other ideas?” No one answered. “Well, in that case, I think we go and see this guy. What have we got to lose?”

  Outside it appeared to be around midday although it was hard to tell exactly as the cloud cover seemed to extinguish the light from the sky. The streets were almost completely deserted. Like Vegas, L.A had apparently become a city of the night. They avoided the few people they saw, trying hard not to appear too furtive.

  It reminded Sam of Las Vegas in the sense that the streets had been kept relatively clear. There was only a loose smattering of ash on the ground, despite the fact that the stuff was still fluttering down in a light shower. A few cars were parked and others drove slowly down the unnaturally quiet streets. Also like Vegas, L.A had seemed to get off relatively lightly from the natural disasters immediately following the Rapture. Sam could see some fire- gutted shops, mostly boarded up, and the occasional heap of rubble that marked where a building had once stood.

  They followed Joshua as he led them down various side streets. Eventually they came to the bookshop Joshua had remembered from his earlier trip to the city. It was boarded up.Setting his bat bag on the ground and casting wary glances behind them, Sam ripped the planks off the door. Inside, it was dark, the slotted blinds on the windows allowing only thin streams of light to enter. There had been a fire; half the shop was blackened with soot, books lying in charred heaps. They found the map section after about ten minutes of careful searching. Fortunately, it hadn’t been amongst the burnt sections and Joshua found a map guide to L.A.

  “What’s the address?” he asked.

  Sam took out the piece of paper from his pocket and examined it. “75 Kohler,” he said.

  Joshua searched through the book and found the map he wanted. “Found it,” he said, smiling. “Luck is with us today. It’s within walking distance. Probably half an hour to an hour.” Sam looked at the map. Joshua was right; they weren’t far away at all.

  Sam nodded. “Good. Let’s get going.” They rounded up Grace who seemed absorbed by some book she’d found in the fantasy section of the bookshop. Sam poked his head out the door. When he confirmed it was all clear, he led the others out of the shop.

  They walked in silence, unwilling to draw attention to themselves in such an eerily quiet place. Sam could see that Joshua and Grace were finding the stifling heat unpleasant, but they didn’t complain. Anything was better than Hell.

  Cars passed by, some of the occupants casting glances their way. Once, they saw a police car but thankfully, it turned down another street before it got close to them. Sam knew they would never pass serious scrutiny. For one, they didn’t possess the tattoo that marked them as followers of the Antichrist.

  They came to Kohler Street without incident. It was lined with almost identical industrial shops, businesses and warehouses. 75 had ‘Cash and Carry’ written on a sign outside. It looked little different to the ones adjacent to it, but Sam supposed that was the point. Whoever was inside didn’t exactly want to advertise their presence. The front door itself was one solid sheet of iron with a tiny covered slot at eye level. Whoever these resistant fighters were, they had chosen their location carefully. The iron would certainly deter demon attack. Sam wasn’t about to touch the door either.

  Joshua knocked. There was absolute silence. After a few moments, Sam’s sensitive ears picked up some movement from inside. The slot in the door slid open and two suspicious eyes glared out.

  “What?” the voice demanded.

  “We’re here to see … um …”

  “Dan,” provided Sam helpfully. “Adam sent us.”

  “What he said,” Joshua said.

  The eyes looked around carefully, scanning the three teenagers and the landscape behind them. “Wris
ts.”

  “What?” asked Joshua, plainly confused.

  “Show me your wrists, stupid. Have you got the mark?”

  Sam and Grace held up their wrists so the person at the door could see. Joshua held up his bandaged wrist.

  “Undo that bandage,” demanded the voice.

  Hesitantly, wincing with pain, Joshua did as he was told. Underneath was a wound that was scored deep into the flesh of his wrist. It was heavily scabbed.

  The voice looked at it for a moment and then bobbed its head. Sam was aware that he’d been holding his breath. The slot slammed shut. After another moment, they heard the sound of heavy bolts being drawn and the door opened. Sam breathed with relief.

  There was a figure standing in heavy shadow within the shop. “Get in, quick.”

  They piled in. No sooner had they done so when the door was slammed shut again and the bolts drawn.

  They found themselves facing three soldiers dressed in fatigues. All were armed with heavy machine-guns, currently pointed in their direction.

  “Down on the floor,” ordered the man who’d let them in. “Casey, search them.”

  They did as they were told while their bodies were searched by one of the soldiers.

  “This is all they’ve got, Captain,” said the soldier - presumably Casey - holding up the bat bag.

  “Ok, fine. Put them in the holding cell until the Colonel gets back.”

  They were hauled to their feet and marched out the back of the shop into a large warehouse. The place was a beehive of activity with a great many people; some sleeping behind a partially curtained off alcove, some cleaning weapons, others working at long tables. Most were in uniform. There were a number of vehicles inside, at least two jeeps, several Humvees and what looked like an armoured personnel carrier and a light tank. The three soldiers took them to the rear of the building where there was a makeshift holding-cell consisting of bars welded into a cage structure.

  Casey held the door open and gestured with his rifle. “Get in.”

  “Can I talk to Dan please?” asked Sam, as all three of them shuffled into the cramped compartment. “It’s important.”

  “Lots of stuff is important. You three aren’t. The Colonel might come and talk to you when he gets back. Might.”

  The guards left them. Inside the cage were some dirty mattresses, rolled up into one corner.

  “Well, that didn’t go precisely as we’d planned,” said Joshua.

  “At least we’re here,” said Sam. “And it looks like they’re organized. It could be a lot worse.”

  “Certainly could,” agreed Grace. She eyed up the mattresses. “I don’t know about you fellas, but I’m going to try and get some sleep. It looks like we could be in for a bit of a wait.”

  Hours later, Sam heard the roller doors opening. He couldn’t see much through the press of bodies and activity that seemed to whirl around the newcomers, but from the glimpse he caught of the outside, it was dark. Joshua and Grace, asleep on mattresses, woke with a start, disturbed by the sudden increase in noise. Sam himself hadn’t slept – since being in Hell, he had felt refreshed. Even the injury caused by the Hellhound was healing rapidly. In another day or so he knew, it would be gone.

  Another hour passed. Eventually, a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the somewhat tattered uniform of a Colonel approached, attended by two armed soldiers.

  “Hello in there,” he said, standing in front of the cage. He made no move to open it. “I’m Colonel Sumner. Colonel Dan Sumner. Sorry for the inconvenience, but we do have to be very careful with newcomers. Casey told me you wanted to speak to me.”

  Sam nodded. “My name is Sam. This is Joshua and Grace. Adam sent us to you.”

  “Adam has sent me a number of people in the past. Why is it important that I speak to you? You’ll get out of this cage eventually, once we make sure you are who you say you are.”

  “Because I’ve come here with something really important to do. But to do it, I think I’m going to need your help.”

  “What’s that then?” the Colonel asked tiredly. He’d obviously been out during the day and at least part of the night. Bags were forming under his eyes.

  “Get on the radio to Adam. He’ll tell you.”

  Colonel Sumner sighed. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve lost contact with Adam and I really can’t spare the men to go and check up on him.”

  Sam felt his heart lurch. Adam gone? Not possible! The man was larger than life, a fantastic fighter with a good soul to match. If anyone still survived, surely it was Adam.

  “Then I need to speak to you alone.”

  The Colonel shook his head. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’ve no secrets from my men. Tell me what you know now or not at all.”

  Sam swallowed nervously. He’d been in this situation a few times recently but it wasn’t getting any easier. He took off his cap. Next to him, he heard the Colonel’s guards gasp and take a step backwards, clicking off the safety clasps on their rifles.

  Colonel Sumner held one hand up. “Easy now, boys. Just simmer down. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for those horns on his head.” He looked at Sam expectantly.

  “I know what it looks like,” said Sam desperately, “and I don’t blame you. I am half-demon.”The Colonel’s eyebrows rose a half-inch. His men fingered their weapons nervously. “But I’m here to help you. To kill the Antichrist.”

  The Colonel’s eyebrows rose so high this time, they looked like they were going to leave his face. “Is that right?”

  “Would Adam have sent me to you otherwise?”

  “You might have forced the information out of him. You might have taken it from his corpse.”

  “Excuse me, Colonel,” interrupted Grace. “But do you know a Greg Muller?”

  The Colonel looked at Grace sharply. “You mean Captain Muller? He was under my command at Fort Irwin. What’s he to you?”

  “He’s my uncle,” said Grace. “I came to Los Angeles to find him and my aunty, Linda.”

  “And you said you’re name was Grace? I think he mentioned you once or twice. You’re his niece?”

  Grace nodded.

  The Colonel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Can you vouch for this boy here?”

  Grace nodded. “He saved my life at least twice. I trust him completely. Don’t let his appearance fool you. He really can help you.”

  “And the other one?” he asked, meaning Joshua.

  Grace nodded again.

  The Colonel frowned, clearly undecided. “Let me think on this for a while. I’ll get someone to bring you something to eat, and you and I,” he said, indicating Sam, “will have another chat shortly.” He turned and started walking away.

  “Colonel!” shouted Grace at his departing back.

  He glanced backwards. “Yes?”

  “What about my uncle and aunty, Colonel? What’s happened to them?”

  The Colonel looked at her for a moment and his face softened. “I’m sorry, Grace. They’re dead.”

  Grace burst into tears and threw herself into Sam’s arms. He held her as she sobbed. Long after she stopped crying, he continued to hold her, rocking her gently. It was the closest human contact he’d had in a long, long time.

  Another few hours passed. There seemed to be more activity going on in the warehouse. The roller door went up and down a few more times. Vehicles left, vehicles arrived. A solider brought them some food. It wasn’t much but there was a generous helping of it and all three attacked it greedily.

  Later still, four armed guards came to the cell and unlocked it. They separated Sam from the others. One of the guards led Joshua and Grace away while the other three escorted Sam to what had once been the administrative office of the cash and carry. Colonel Sumner was sitting behind a desk. He offered Sam a seat in front of him and dismissed the soldiers.

  “Is that wise, Sir?” asked one of them.

  The Colonel waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Thank you fo
r your concern, soldier.”

  He looked at Sam, his face betraying absolutely no emotion. “Tell me everything.”

  Sam did. He left out almost nothing. He told him of his upbringing and his heritage. He talked of Hikari and Aimi, the words almost choking him. He told of his training and his survival after the Rapture. He told the Colonel of his journey to Hell and the reason for it. Lastly, he told him about the mission that he had been entrusted with many years earlier.

  The Colonel sat still the whole time. Occasionally his eyes went wide or he would nod fractionally. When Sam had finished, he stood and looked at the boy carefully.

  “I saw how you comforted your friend,” he said. “In my experience, that sort of thing can’t be faked.” He paused for breath. “If what you say is true – wait,” he said, forestalling Sam’s response, “and I am inclined to believe you, God help me - then it would seem that we’re on the same side. First, I think, you need to understand a few things about what’s been happening around here. The Antichrist has got a choke hold on the Western seaboard. I don’t really know what’s going on in the rest of the country – or the world for that matter – I only know what’s been happening around here. We still have contact with some resistance groups but we’ve lost some recently. Losing Adam really hurt. We served together. He was a good man.”

  Sam didn’t know what to say. Losing Adam had indeed been a blow.

  “When the Rapture happened, I was stationed at Fort Irwin. There was confusion at first, lots of it. Confused reports from all over the States and around the world. Then the Tribulation started and the base got hit hard by the earthquakes and fires. Then the demons came.” The Colonel sighed heavily. “We were heavily armed of course, not that it made a difference. Our bullets and shells bounced off most of them and we were overrun within minutes. I escaped with as many men and supplies as I could and we came here.”

  He smiled. “I’d been setting up this business with a view to my retirement. Turns out it’s a good place to start a resistance movement. There are lots of businesses around here. Many were chock full of food and other stuff we could use. We soon learnt about the demons’ sensitivity to iron and used it to our full advantage. We hunt them out at night, and during the day we gather what people and supplies we can.”