The Savior Rises

by Christopher C. Payne

  Jesus, where was this super-human strength she knew was hidden inside her? It seemed to come and go of its own accord, and now might be a time where she could use a little help. The Mexican in front of her just laughed harder.

  “It appears our little flower here thought she might escape us. Trust me when I tell you this, you sad little woman; you’re about to have a night that you’ll never forget.”

  “I might say the same for you,” Greg said as he walked through the door. “I have a personal interest in this young lady, and I’m guessing it might vary from yours. If you kindly let us go, I promise to kill you quickly, otherwise you will be crying like a baby girl before you die.”

  Not waiting to respond, the man standing closest to the door swung a bat at Greg’s head. Greg snatched the bat out of the air with his left hand and jammed it back into his would-be assailant’s gut. The Mexican’s partner sitting next to him jumped up at the same time and flashed a knife in his right hand. He buried it in Greg’s gut, but Greg didn’t even feel the impact.

  He pulled the knife out, twisted the blade around, and shoved it in his attacker’s chest, kicking him against the wall as the victim drew his final breath.

  The other two gang members who had been leaning against the back wall both pulled out handguns and opened fire. One bullet hit Greg in the shoulder. He twisted to the floor, jumped up underneath the man closest to him, and shoved his fist into the man’s jaw. As he did so, he grabbed the gun, flipped it over, and shot the guy standing next to him.

  “You see, buddy. I keep my promises.”

  As Greg finished his sentence, he shot the leader and pointed the gun toward the man who began the encounter.

  “Would you like to live?” he asked calmly.

  The guy nodded his head furiously. Greg said, “Then, un-tie her. I think it is about time she and I left.”

  He quickly did as instructed, and Greg helped Stefani out of her seat, lifting her up by her shoulder. “Daddy can’t have you getting into trouble he doesn’t approve of, sweetie. You really should be more careful about who you hang out with.”

  Stefani wondered if she cared anymore. Maybe she was looking for death. Maybe she no longer thought enough of the sick, tortured life she seemed to be leading. Maybe she lacked the courage to kill herself and hoped somebody would be gracious enough to put her out of her misery.

  “You know, we can’t let you take her,” Stefani’s head swiveled around in the direction of the voice. Greg still held her by the arm, pushing her through the door, back into the main part of the bar. The voice had come from one of the American kids she’d seen earlier partying in the corner.

  “Really?” Greg responded. “And were you just going to let them have their way with her? Maybe you should have been a little more helpful, and then I wouldn’t have been forced to intervene.”

  Greg had been so intent on pulling Stefani out of the back room he’d walked right by this group without even noticing what or who they were. That was unlike him. Again, Stefani had caused him to trip over himself. She was an anomaly for somebody like him, someone who had every step planned out well in advance.

  “We would have helped her, but she needed to learn a lesson. We’re thinking you may be in need of a lesson, as well. You’re overstepping your bounds by showing up in this area, Greg.”

  Greg knew he wasn’t supposed to change, and there might be grave consequences for his doing so, but he also knew he had no choice. He bent down and within seconds his body grew in stature, his arms bulged, and his leg muscles expanded. As his wings shot out of his shoulders, he felt the first attack. The end of a sword sliced through his left shoulder blade.

  He raised his foot up, kicked directly in front of him, and connected with his closest aggressor’s head. He felt the skull bones cave in as the full force of his foot met the side of the boy’s head. The lad fell immediately, dead before his body hit the floor. He knew at least three of the others were gargoyles, as well. Even if they were young, he didn’t want to waste time fighting them.

  There was only one who was even close to finishing his transformation. They all must be very young to take this long to change, he thought. He pulled his last knife from his belt and threw it, hitting the gargoyle closest to him in the throat. Greg watched him grab his neck as he gargled something meaningless before hitting the floor.

  Greg spread his wings, opened them up, and launched himself through the roof, finding his way to the clouds above. He didn’t mind letting them clean up the mess. He had done his fatherly duty. Stefani would be ok for now. He would have his way with her when she returned home. They always return home. It‘s something bred in them at a young age, he thought to himself.

  Aaron could have chased Greg, but he didn’t know what the point was now. He shifted back to his human form and headed over to Stefani. “Are you ok?” he asked gently. “Why don’t you take a seat over here? Let me help you.”

  The rest of the locals in the bar had run out the front door when the gargoyles first revealed their presence. Everyone fled except the bartender. He stared at all of them, his mouth open. He couldn’t comprehend what he had just witnessed. How often do you see human reptiles jumping around your bar?

  “Can we get some drinks, please?” Aaron said as he picked up a couple of chairs and turned the table back on its feet. His two buddies hauled their dead friend out the back door where they unceremoniously dropped him in the dumpster.

  “Roguls are just not worth the effort,” one of Aaron’s gargoyle friends said as he closed the lid and walked back in.

  Aaron gave a quick review of who they were and why they were here. They lived in San Diego and had for almost 40 years. They were young, by gargoyle standards, stayed out of the way most of the time, and spent almost every weekend in Mexico, drinking their lives away. It wasn’t the most ambitious use of their talents, but he really didn’t care.

  He vaguely knew Dennis, but almost everyone was aware of Greg. There were very few people who liked him. The guy was a power trip and was on some unknown agenda to find a ring and rule the world. Aaron didn’t really care. He stayed away from any form of politics, human or gargoyle.

  What he did care about was having a good time and since there were more than enough dead bodies lying around, it probably made good sense to hit another bar. He knew the local authorities very well and was in no danger of getting in trouble, but he also never wanted to attract much attention. Gargoyles survived on anonymity.

  Aaron’s partners decided to call it a night. The one who had taken the knife in his throat was recovering, but he and the other two weren’t up for any more fun. This left Aaron alone with Stefani, and he found this thought appealing. Good friends have a way of sensing when their time has overstepped their welcome.

  So, Stefani and Aaron walked for an hour or so, talking about their adventures as Stefani filled him in on her recent escapades. It still sounded so hard to believe as she went from story to story, crying at times when she thought of Dennis and Matt. It didn’t seem fair that any guy who even attempted to get close to her was tortured and killed.

  When the night turned into pre-dawn morning, Aaron offered to let Stefani stay in his room. Since she had no plans and nowhere else to go, it seemed a logical solution. They made their way back to his hotel, glancing at the remaining stragglers who littered the streets after a night of partying.

  “Some people just don’t know when it is time to go home, do they?”

  Aaron laughed as he gently took Stefani’s hand in his own. She tried to think of the last time a guy had gotten close to her like that, and Matt’s face appeared in her thoughts. Matt – the guy who might’ve been her brother.

  “I would happen to agree with you, Aaron.” Greg said. The too-drunk-to-walk bum who had ventured within a foot of them turned out not to be a bum at all. But it was well past being too late when Aaron realized this.

  Greg’s sword streaked through the air and connected with Aaron’s neck. Only seconds l
ater Greg shoved it through Aaron’s chest, slicing his heart in half. He fell to his knees, his hand reaching instinctively for his throat as his head rolled to rest in the gutter alongside the sidewalk.

  “Maybe I didn’t make this perfectly clear, my dear. It’s not acceptable for you to spend the night in another man’s hotel room. You’ll have to be punished for even thinking about it. Do you remember what almost happened with Matt, and he was your brother, for Christ’s sake.”

  Greg stood in front of Stefani as her body began to violently shake. Her ability to think receded, and she retreated into the inner recesses of her mind. She didn’t even feel the back of his hand as it hit her again and again, rocking her face backwards. His knuckles were leaving bruises on her cheeks, possibly a black eye. How would she explain this the next day when she went to school? What would her teachers think?

  Wait a minute, she wasn’t even in school anymore, was she? She couldn’t remember anymore. Her eyes felt heavy now. She just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t Greg leave her alone? Why was he always hurting her? Everyone who ever tried to be her friend was killed or driven away.

  She was always alone – alone with this monster. Everyone knew he was bad, they always told her, yet nobody protected her. She was left alone to fend for herself. Even her mother, who was supposed to be there for her, was gone. Her grandma was gone. She hadn’t even met her grandpa. She couldn’t trust her roommates.

  She felt the life being sucked out of her at that moment, and everything went dark. She felt herself falling again, falling down into the darkness. She heard herself crying, but she knew nobody was listening. Even if they could hear her, nobody would help. She was all by herself. Greg was the only constant in her life, and he was worse than any demon she could imagine.

  Maybe all men were gargoyles to a certain extent. Maybe the grey leathery skin was nothing more than camouflage, masking the satanic tendencies they all held inside their souls. There were two more days until her 21st birthday. She wondered what surprises the current day might hold for her. What wonders would she discover when she awoke from her nightmare?

  Home Sweet Home

  Stefani rolled over and opened her eyes. It was already 3:30 in the afternoon. She was still exhausted. How had she managed to sleep the entire day? She looked for a glass of water on her nightstand, but she must have forgotten to bring one with her when she went to sleep. Jesus, she had to get up quickly or she would be late for work.

  There was a note lying on her bedside table from Staci.

  Hey, if you can make it, we’re all going out dancing tonight at Ruby Skye. I know you have to work; but if you get off early, come and hang out.

  How nice of Staci, she thought. It was good having roommates you felt comfortable with. They didn’t go out that often together, but when they did, Stefani always had a good time. She quickly jumped in the shower, relaxing as the water washed over her hair and body. It was good to feel clean. The shower always seemed to wash the dirt off her body. Her skin always felt so dirty.

  She wrapped the towel around her and opened the door. “AAAHHH!” she screamed as Matt’s face appeared in the mirror.

  It was right there. She could’ve sworn it was him. She missed Matt. She wondered what he would be doing now if he were alive.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest and headed back to her bedroom. As she closed the door, she noticed the new poster on the wall. A poster of Tijuana hung next to her poster of Bath and Ladispoli. Three places she’d never been to. She’d never been to any of these places. These were not her posters.

  She found herself rocking on her bed now, rocking back and forth, clutching her knees against her chest as she chanted over and over again.

  “These are not my posters. These are not my posters. Please, dear God, these are not my posters.”

  She didn’t know if she were trying to convince herself or if she were attempting to convince the demons who seemed to be living in her house with her.

  She was intent on not letting anything throw her off today. She knew she wasn’t in Tijuana yesterday, and she hadn’t met Aaron. Greg had killed him anyway, if she had met him. Greg had now killed three men in her life. She was beginning to understand he would never allow her to be close to any male. He’d killed everyone who was even the slightest bit nice to her.

  She felt herself slipping again, so she got up and got ready for work. She remembered her doctor told her that routine was always important. If you force yourself to keep moving and keep functioning, then reality has a way of coming home. Reality, there is nothing sweeter than coming home to reality.

  It eludes most of us as we fantasize about places we will never go and watch movies about things we will never do. Reality is just beyond our grasp as we live our mundane lives every single day, dreaming of something better, bigger, more…maybe just more.

  Stefani decided to be a nurse this evening. Men really did like nurses. Somebody who was sworn to help people, all dressed in white, connoting purity. Isn’t it funny how men place such a high level of importance on purity? Yet, they want their women to be dirty at the same time. Doesn’t the contradiction ever register with men?

  There were certain types of women you just didn’t bring home to mother. But those were the women men were the most attracted to. How many men stare at a woman who is slightly overweight, on the beach wearing a sundress, versus a size two woman with overinflated breasts and a thong? Men really were starting to make Stefani sick, and it all started with Greg’s hypocrisy.

  She threw her nurse’s outfit into her bag and pulled her jeans on, wiggling her butt the final few inches as she pushed and pulled them over her nice round ass. She decided against wearing a bra and simply pulled on a T-shirt, covering that with her favorite maroon Southern Illinois Saluki sweatshirt.

  She really should go shopping soon. Her clothes were beginning to look a little worn. No wonder she had trouble finding a boyfriend. You had to look the part of the young college girl if you wanted to find a young college boy.

  She walked through the back door of The Gold Club where she’d worked the last couple of years and was greeted with the usual grunts. She didn’t hang out with any of these girls after work, but she tried to be as pleasant as she could while on the job. She realized she came off cold sometimes, but it was a cut-throat business. All of them chased the almighty dollar.

  She slipped into her white fishnet stockings and pulled on her white skirt and her matching top. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a real nurse dressed quite this slutty, but this is what the audience desired. The shoes were the real kicker. Could a nurse really walk around in eight-inch plastic platform shoes? She didn’t think so.

  She made her way out to the floor, waiting for her turn to go onstage. She slowly filtered herself amongst a group of girls standing over in one corner. It sometimes did pay to mingle.

  “Anything happening tonight?” she asked.

  “Not a darn thing,” a young brunette standing next to her responded. “It’s quiet as a church mouse.”

  Stefani wondered how quiet church mice really were. She laughed to herself as she realized they had to be pretty damn quiet. The things that go on behind closed doors in religious buildings were enough to make the seediest strip club owner shrink in size. The hypocrisy didn’t elude her.

  “What about that guy?” she asked, looking at a man sitting alone. The sight of a man sitting solo in a strip club is unheard of. The only reason to hang out with strippers is to have them fawn all over you, and as a stripper, you want the cash. You can’t get any tips standing in a corner.

  “He keeps waving everyone away,” she said. “He apparently wants to be all by his lonesome. It seems he might be looking for somebody.”

  “He’s probably been waiting for me,” Stefani said as she sashayed over to his table.

  “What a loser,” the brunette would be prostitute said to herself when Stefani moved out of earshot.

  As Stefani sat down, she tried hard not t
o acknowledge the relevance of this day. Was it possible it was happening all over again? Was it really the same day? It was still only two days until her birthday. She’d met Dennis a few days ago, and now he was dead. She’d been dressed as a devil, not a nurse. Things were different, yet everything seemed like it was the same.

  “Please don’t be Dennis. Please don’t be Dennis. Please don’t be Dennis.”

  She kept whispering over and over again as she sat down.

  “Hi, stranger,” she managed to get out of her mouth in a wimpy, unsure tone. She questioned everything in life. Nothing appeared to be as it was. The people you expected to protect you were the very people who were most likely to hurt you. She wiped a tear away from her cheek as the man looked up.

  “I’m not interested,” he said in a gruff manner, but Stefani was letting out a huge sigh of relief. It wasn’t Dennis. She felt her sanity returning. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

  Before she could collect her thoughts, he said, “Oh, my God, it’s you. You’re in danger. You have to come with me. There are people following you, people who will try and kill you, people who…

  “Shit, it’s too late.”

  He grabbed her hair and shoved her head beneath the table as he kicked the chair out from underneath her, dropping her completely to the floor. It all happened so quickly. Seconds later, the sparkling neon light overhead burst into broken shards of glass, and the guy sitting at the next table clutched his chest. Bullets had found their way home it seemed. He fell to the floor dead.

  Dennis, or the man holding Stefani picked her up, pushed her to the back door and tried to make his way out the rear entrance. He was too slow by seconds as one of their attackers dropped down, sealing off their route.

  “Hey, Frank, fancy meeting you here,” the man said to Stefani’s new vigilante. Those were the last words he spoke before she planted her foot firmly between his legs, feeling her eight-inch shoe imbed itself several inches into his tender flesh.