666

by Whateley, Michael

  “Did you shoot? What the fuck? We need to capture it, not kill it. You could have killed us. Don’t rounds ricochet off stone?”

  “Did you see it? That’s not human, we’re not catching that. The only proof you can get is a body.”

  John reached down to retrieve the torch. It felt intact. He pushed the button. Nothing. As he shook the torch, he could hear rattling.

  “The torch is broke. Now what?”

  “Did you bring one, or have you got a lighter?”

  John touched his pocket, remembering his cheap torch. He removed it. He hesitated, not sure if wanted to see what a shotgun blast at short range would have done. He steeled himself and flicked the switch. The tiny beam illuminated the floor. There was nothing.

  “That’s impossible,” Eric said, kneeling to look at the ground more closely.

  “Any blood, any sign of injury?”

  “Nothing. But I can see marks where the buckshot hit the ground. It can’t be far. Let’s just keep going.”

  John watched as Eric set off down the cave. “Wait! I think we need to go back and get more people.”

  “We’re too close to quit now. How would you feel if your fear meant that your daughter’s attacker got away?”

  “Yes, I’m scared. But carrying on is just mad. We need to know what we’re dealing with. It’s not what we were expecting.”

  “It’s not what you were expecting. You thought you would find people. I expected monsters, and that’s what we’ve got. Stay behind me and shine that torch.”

  Without waiting for a response, Eric strode off. John paused, before continuing. He wasn’t going to let Eric make him look like a coward.

  They walked on in silence. The cave appeared to go on without end. They came to passages running off from the main path. Each time they took the left passage. That way, on the way back, as long as they did the opposite, they would find their way out. They could hear an occasional scurrying in the distance. It always sounded like it was around the next corner, but each time there was nothing. One time they stopped, as the noise appeared to be behind them, but Eric was convinced it was just echoing in the cave. John was not so sure.

  “Is it getting brighter?” John asked.

  “I was thinking the same.”

  As they went along, John turned off the torch. They could still see. There was a corner ahead. Stepping around it, they could see the cave opened out into a large chamber. It was around thirty feet in diameter, and just as high. At the top was a hole. That was the source of the light.

  “What time is it?” Eric asked.

  John looked at his watch. “It’s five thirty am. I can’t believe how long we’ve been down here.”

  “It’s the lack of light. Messes with your body clock. Look, in the corner.”

  There was a human skull. John approached it. As he got closer, he could see other bones nearby. They bore teeth marks, as if they had been knawed.

  “Do you think it’s…”

  “Don’t even say it. I don’t want to think about that right now.”

  John felt a pressure on his arm and looked down. Eric had grabbed it. He turned to say something, but stopped. Eric was looking at the passageway they had come from. There was one of the creatures there. On all fours, low, nearly on its stomach. Just watching. There were three more passages leading from the cavern. In each, a creature, just watching.

  “Now what?” John asked.

  “I have two shots in the shotgun. Won’t have time to reload, but it might scare them off.”

  Eric lifted the shotgun and held it into his shoulder. He took deliberate aim. “Cover your ears, John.”

  The shotgun kicked. John could feel the blast. The creature in the path of the round moved to the side. It was so quick, John had not seen it happen. One minute it was in the path, the next, further in the cavern. It was looking at Eric.

  “Not sure you should do that again, Eric. It just pissed them off.”

  “Don’t be daft, it just got lucky. This is the last shot, if you see a gap when I fire, run for it, don’t look back.”

  Eric raised the gun. There was a clicking, slithering.

  John looked. The creature in the passageway was gone. He ran for it, not waiting for the shot.

  “Eric! Run!”

  As he entered the passage, he looked back. Eric was on his back. Not making a sound. His eyes wide. Blood was on his shirt. John saw why there was no sound. Eric's throat was missing. Bubbles were forming on his neck. He was still alive. Three of the creatures were fighting over a bloody lump of gristle. Eric tried to move, to stand. One of the creatures jumped on his chest, pinning him back down.

  John was breathing hard, he could feel the throb of his heart pounding in his temples. One of the creatures was looking in his direction. He screamed, a sound of pure terror. He ran, all sense of self control gone.

  ***

  Michaela turned to the doctor. “How are they?”

  “No improvement, I’m afraid. Jayne is unresponsive, and I’ve sedated John, he wouldn’t stop screaming.”

  The End

  Phone Contract

  The upload was up to seventy percent. Nice. At least his connection was holding steady. Jonathan leaned back in his chair and watched the progress bar crawl upwards. It was his latest YouTube video, exposing the truth. He considered himself a modern crusader, fighting for good against evil. That’s what his video was about. It was set to expose one of the biggest conspiracies of all time. It was huge, but no one believed him.

  He stood up and walked to a picture on the wall. It was a group of soldiers sat with the lord mayor. He was one of those soldiers, once. He had been a medic, a bloody good one, but had entered the world of conspiracies. It had started because he was bored. He had just searched random facts on the net. He’d seen the usual looney moon landing hoax sites, and the UFO ones, then he had stumbled on an interesting one. It had to do with ‘Wicked Phones.’

  “Wicked Phones” was one of many phone shop companies. It offered all the latest phones, all the latest tariffs. It had a young demographic. Jonathan had an iPhone bought from that very phone shop. It had all seemed perfectly normal, nothing different about his shopping experience. Then he had seen the web site, and that had changed his life.

  The site claimed that "Wicked Phones" was owned by a group of devil worshippers called "The Brotherhood Of The Fallen Angel". This group had been set up in the middle ages with the intent of preparing the way for the apocalypse. They had funded attacks on the state to spread chaos. From the gunpowder plot to Al-Qaeda, their money had been involved. The original members had struggled to collect funds to achieve their ends, that was until they had the idea of setting up a legitimate business, "Wicked Phones". Even the W in wicked was formed out of two horns. Now, they had the funds to lead the world into chaos. The story had got into Jonathan’s mind like a worm, wiggling its way in until a mild interest had turned into a hobby. That hobby had turned into an obsession. He had told his friends, family and colleagues, and they had all thought he was losing it. Now was the day he was going to prove them wrong.

  He grabbed his rucksack and headed for the door. It was dark out and there was a chill in the air. Jonathan’s breath came out of his mouth like smoke from a dragon. He locked the door and headed down the street. He had been watching the shop on the High Street, monitoring the coming and going of its staff. He had learned their names, and even hacked into the shop’s computer. That’s how he had learned the date of the big meeting: today, 06/06/16.

  The shop was closed, but the lights were on. After a brief shop meeting, they were all going to drive out to the country. The location had not been disclosed in the email he had seen, only the date and time. Jonathan went into the car park. There were only six cars, belonging to the men in the shop. Jonathan approached one and tried the boot, it was locked. He got a thin screwdriver and a small hammer out of his rucksack. He inserted the screwdriver into the lo
ck and hit the end with the hammer. He felt something give, and the boot opened a fraction. There was the sound of a door opening and men’s voices could be heard. They were laughing and joking. Jonathan climbed into the boot and eased closed the lid. The catch had been bent by the screwdriver, Jonathan forced it back into place and heard the satisfying click. It was in motion now, one way or another, tonight he would find the truth. The engines started and Jonathan settled in for a long ride.

  ***

  The boot briefly lit up as Jonathan activated the backlight on his watch. It was twenty past eleven at night. He had been in the boot for three hours. Where the hell were they? He had fallen asleep for a while, but not that long. He listened, but there was no sound. It should be safe. He used the screwdriver to inch open the boot, and looked around. The coast was clear, so he got out and closed it. He was on a gravelled drive of a mansion. It was old, it looked to be Victorian. There was a small workman’s entrance on the left side. He walked into a dark kitchen. The light went on, and a man stood in the doorway leading further into the building. He wore a black suit and was carrying two glasses of red wine.

  “Hello, Jonathan, we've been waiting for you.”

  Jonathan looked at him, not understanding what was happening.

  “Come on, Jonathan, follow me. Here,” the man said.

  Walking up to him, Jonathan took the proffered glass, he felt dazed. The man guided him down the corridor.

  “It's 2016, Jonathan, did you really think you could get away without being noticed? We've been following your uploads with interest. You were kind enough to upload a few from your phone, the phone you got from us, so that gave us your address. Finding a picture and the rest of your details was child’s play. We just made sure to keep an eye on your location using your phone’s GPS and our store CCTV cameras did the rest. Got to tell you though, Jonathan, George is annoyed at what you did to his boot catch.”

  The man was well spoken and appeared confident. As they had been talking, he had guided Jonathan into a large room. It was full of thirty people dressed in suits. They were all sat facing a stage with a big red curtain bearing the "Wicked Logo". Jonathan was led up to the stage, and the robed man approached the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentleman, please give a big hand for our guest of honour.” The man clapped.

  Everyone in the room erupted with applause. Jonathan was guided to a seat, and he sat down. The man once again approached the microphone.

  “For the benefit of some of you, and for our esteemed guest, let's run through the events that led us to this, most defining, moment. It all started back on the sixth of June nineteen eighty six, when a child was born. This had been prophesied in our bible. The signs were right. The child’s mother died in childbirth and his father committed suicide. We quickly moved to get two members to foster this child. He wanted for nothing, the Brotherhood funded it all. This boy grew into a man, and that man has returned to the fold.” The speaker looked at Jonathan. "Welcome home, Jonathan."

  As the man had been speaking, the large curtains had been drawn back to show a large cauldron on fire, with a young woman bound and gagged lying beside it on a table.

  Jonathan stood up. “What is this, are you saying I'm one of you.? That’s stupid. And what’s the girl got to do with it? Let her go.”

  "Sorry, Jonathan, that can’t happen. The master will only appear after her sacrifice, and then he will need a vessel to inhabit. That’s where you come into it."

  As the man had spoken, two men came up behind Jonathan. There was a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then nothing.

  ***

  Jonathan kept coming in and out of consciousness. He heard snippets then blacked out again. He had a strong smell of incense. He remembered some incantation in a strange language. There was the memory of a girl’s scream that abruptly ended in a gurgle. Visions and images kept floating in front of his face, lacking substance or form. He became aware of a shadow leaning over him. A goat’s head above a red robe.

  It spoke, and was the speaker from earlier, in the throes of passion. “Look into the fire, see his majesty, see his power. He is here.”

  Jonathan looked at the flames. He was tied up on an altar, beside the cauldron. He looked into the sparks. There was a beast there, made of fire. It had the most grotesque face. Blazing eyes, a forked tongue licked its lips and two horns curled from the side of its head. There was no nose, just slits were one should be. It looked straight at him, and he felt his heart thumping.

  "It’s time, Jonathan, the master is waiting for his body. Its time for you to vacate it."

  Jonathan saw the knife for the first time. It was long, curved with a serrated edge. It was still covered in fresh blood. Raising it high, the speaker started his strange incantations. Jonathan started to shake. He wasn’t ready to die, not like this, not now. He struggled and lashed out. His foot ties seemed to loosen. He kicked them sideways and made contact with the cauldron. It rocked. He kicked it more, trying to time them with the wobbling of the cauldron, trying to amplify the movement each time.

  "Get his legs, you fools. We're too close," the speaker raged.

  Jonathan thrashed around even harder. He kicked the cauldron one last time, and it fell in a shower of sparks and fire onto its side. The oil in the vat ran over the floor, setting fire to everything it touched. The speaker screamed as his trousers caught fire, and he ran into the main hall and started to roll on the floor. It was mayhem, people running and shouting. Jonathan’s skin burned. He pulled at his arms. There seemed to be more give. He tugged harder, and with a jerk his arms came free and the ends of the rope caught on fire. He could smell a sickly sweet stench. Standing on the altar, he turned around and could see the woman on fire. She was already dead, her neck had been slit and her heart removed. The demonic figure behind the cauldron could go wherever the fire went. It glided across to the flaming body and melted into it with the flames.

  Jonathan leapt off the altar towards the main hall. He landed just short of the fire’s edge and felt the flames. He ran shouting in pain for the centre of the room. He almost made it. As he was bursting from the blaze, his movement was checked. He could feel a fresh burning in his leg. He fell onto his back and saw the remains of the woman had grabbed his shin. She was burned beyond recognition. Her right arm was a black skeletal arm with chunks of flesh hanging off. Her face was a burned skull, but every time the fire reached her head the devil’s face could be seen. With a strength born of fear and adrenaline, Jonathan kicked her arms and crawled for the middle of the room. He heard a crack and moved as if a big weight had been lifted

  He crawled, and didn't look back until he was near the corridor. Pressing himself against the wall, he glanced back. He was expecting to see the burnt corpse pursuing him, but, the body was almost consumed. It stood on the edge of the flames, it’s face twisted by rage. He realised that the Demon could not exist outside of the flames, that’s why it needed his body.

  Part of the ceiling collapsed, and a beam landed in a shower of sparks in front of him. The close call galvanised him to make his way to the door. He passed a couple of burning bodies. Not all the shop owners had made it out. Opening the door, he felt the cooling embrace of the night air, like bliss against his burnt body. He moved further into the night, away from the mansion. The flames were now roaring from the roof. Soon, there would be nothing but a shell.

  Looking up at the roof, Jonathan thought he saw something, like the Devil was stood on the roof looking at him.

  He was safe for now, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the Brotherhood tried again. Jonathan knew that he would never be the same. He was probably the only man outside of the Brotherhood that knew the truth. He had to stop it.

  The End

  The Lighthouse Journal

  It all started in the summer of 1946, off the east coast of England. Jason Pemberton was visiting Bamburgh Castle, with his girlfriend, Emma Pyke.

  "Prep
are to repel boarders," Jason shouted, then mimed shooting a bow.

  "You're mad." Emma laughed. "You repel boarders on a boat."

  "That would make me a pirate, then, and I'm in the mood for a good pillage," Jason said, running at Emma.

  Emma laughed, and ran away, but not too fast. She let him catch her, and holding on to him, fell over in the long grass.

  "You're a bad man, Jason Pemberton. You really are," she said, stroking his hair.

  "Oh, I do hope so," Jason smiled at her. "Shall we have some music, while we, while we talk?" Jason winked at Emma, reaching across and taking a portable radio out of Emma's picnic bag. Fiddling with the tuner, he winced as static blasted out of the single speaker. "What's wrong with this, there's no reception round here."

  "Pass it here, you're doing it wrong," Emma said, taking the radio. She moved the aerial around. There was only static at first, then the screaming started. It was a woman's high pitched cry. There was terror in that sound.

  "Is that a play or something?" Emma said. She looked at Jason. There was something in that scream that had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  "Could be, maybe a horror play." The sound was clearly a woman, but there was something, that Jason couldn't explain, very wrong with it.

  Emma moved the aerial again, and the noise stopped. She turned it around and the scream reappeared. She kept moving the aerial until she found the exact position where it was the loudest.

  "It's pointing at that lighthouse out there," Emma said. "Do you suppose it's one of those pirate radio stations?"

  "Not sure, we ought to find a police station." Jason was starting to get up, brushing the grass from his trousers, frustrated that his romantic intentions had been interrupted.

  "Oh, come on, Jason, they won't be interested. Why don't we go out and investigate? Come on, it'll be exciting." Emma was already standing, looking at the lighthouse. "Look, there's a man down on the beach. He has a little boat. I bet he'd take us out if you asked him."