by Amy Cross
“Anything?” he whispers.
“What am I looking for?” I ask.
“Any sign that the infidels are nearby. Any sign that those disgusting, order-following assholes are snorting their way toward us like the fucking pigs that they are!”
“I don't see anything, but -”
“Okay,” he says, pushing me up and through into the room before climbing up with his rifles still strapped to his back. Hauling one of the guns over his shoulder, he looks around the room, as if he's convinced that we'll be set upon at any moment. His wild, raving eyes seem more haggard than ever, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe Mom was wrong about him: he seems to contradict himself all the time, almost as if he's making everything up as he goes along. Mom always said he was guided by Attaroth, that Mr. Kenseth was an agent of a higher power, but as he stumbles barefoot across the room with his gun raised, he looks totally insane. I remember asking Mom about him once:
“He looks crazy,” I told her.
“He's a visionary.”
“But he looks mad!”
“All visionaries look that way at first,” she insisted. “You're a child, Clay. None of us understand the true nature of Mr. Kenseth's genius. Just trust me, okay? He'll lead us to the promised land of enlightenment and paradise.”
“We can't relax,” Mr. Kenseth says after a moment. “This building's almost by the perimeter fence, so they're hopefully busy in the main parts of the hospital dealing with a few little surprises I left for them, but we have to move fast.” Hurrying to the door, he waves for me to join him. Reluctantly, I go over to him, and he immediately turns the handle and inches the door open a small way, allowing a little sunlight into the room. In the distance, there are more explosions, along with the sound of cars, helicopters and men shouting at each other.
“Check the coast is clear,” Mr. Kenseth whispers.
I look up at him, terrified by the idea of going out there.
“Won't they hurt me if they see me?”
“You're a kid,” he replies, “so they'll be less trigger-happy. That's one of your advantages, Clay, so you've gotta press it home. If one of them sees you, just use your rifle and blow him away before he's had a chance to think properly. Those idiots are hardwired to pause when they see a kid. It's only a couple of milliseconds, but it's all the time in the world if it means you can blast them in the face.” He pauses for a moment, as if his mind is spinning with possibilities. “There's a smaller white building nearby, we have to get to it. That's our way out of this mess. Attaroth will clear our path.”
Realizing that I have no choice, I peer out just as a helicopter swoops low over us. Pulling back for a moment out of fear, I force myself to look again, and this time I see that the hospital's main building is on fire, with flames roaring from the windows as soldiers and men with S.U.I. uniforms swarm around the site. There are armored vehicles nearby, and lots of objects laid out on the grass with white sheets over them, almost like dead bodies.
“What do you see?” Mr. Kenseth whispers.
“The hospital's on fire.”
“Of course it is, I set enough booby-traps to make a hell of a crater. What else do you see?”
“Lots of men.”
“What kind of uniforms are they wearing?”
“Different ones. S.U.I. and other ones. They're shouting a lot.”
“Typical fucking government drones,” he mutters. “That's how it works, you know. Give some authority and a big uniform to a bunch of idiots, and pretty soon you'll have yourself a nice little army of Nazi bastards. Are they nearby? Have any of them looked this way?”
I watch as more bodies are carried out onto the grass and set down on the grass. I can't help wondering if Mom is one of them. Hopefully she hasn't got all the way up to Attaroth yet, which means there might be a chance to wake her up if I can just get close enough.
“Clay,” Mr. Kenseth hisses, “tell me what you see! You're my eyes right now!”
“No-one's seen us,” I tell him. “They all look very busy.”
“Okay,” he replies, “so we're going to the nearest building. Do you see it, Clay? It's about ten paces away.”
“I see it.”
“When we make a break for it,” he continues, “they will spot us. They've probably got infra-red and all that kinda crap going on, so we have to be quick. There might be gunshots, but don't be scared. You and me, Clay, we're a team, and Attaroth is guiding us. He won't let anything happen to us, and neither will I. You trust Attaroth, don't you?”
I nod, even though I don't know if I do trust him.
“If any bullets do come toward us,” he adds, “Attaroth will guide them away. He won't let us get hurt, not if he knows that we believe in him.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay, so we'll go on my count. Ready? One, two...”
He pauses.
Suddenly I realize that I'm holding my breath.
“Three!”
He pushes me out the door into the bright sunlight, before hurrying out with his rifles aimed toward the soldiers, who are too far away to notice us immediately. Ushering me over to the next building, he struggles for a moment to get the door open, but finally he manages, just as one of the soldiers spots us and shouts at us to stop running. I hear a couple of whizzing sounds, as if something small is flying past us and hitting the wall.
“In!” Mr. Kenseth shouts.
“Get down on the ground!” another soldier shouts. “Get -”
Before he can finish, Mr. Kenseth fires his gun, hitting the soldier in the neck and knocking him to the ground. Several shots are fired by the other soldiers as we duck into the building, and Mr. Kenseth bolts the door once we're inside.
“Did you hurt that man?” I ask, taking a step back.
“I hope he really felt it,” he mutters, pulling me along the corridor. “The know we're in here now, Clay, so we have to move fast. Don't worry, my booby-traps will have given them a fright, so they won't just come barging in but -” Suddenly he stops and clamps a hand over my mouth, pulling me into a doorway. “Listen,” he whispers.
In the distance, I can hear a voice coming closer.
“Echo-five,” the man says, “this building seems clear. It looks like it was just used for storing supplies.”
Mr. Kenseth keeps his hand over my mouth as the soldier comes closer and closer. I can feel myself shaking with fear, and I'm scared that the soldier will shoot me as soon as he knows I'm here. Holding my breath, I watch as he walks away, and finally I realize with relief that he didn't see us, which means -
“Fucker!” Mr. Kenseth shouts, stepping out and firing twice, hitting the soldier in the back and causing him to drop to the ground. “Armor-piercing bullets,” Mr. Kenseth continues, making his way over the soldier and kicking his gun away before reaching down and pulling off his helmet. “I got these from an old army vet. The poor bastard was dying and no-one was paying his bills, so he was happy to give me a reasonable price. Made me promise I'd use them for something worthwhile, too, and I think this fits the bill.”
Clearly in pain, the soldier reaches for his radio, before stopping as he sees that the rifle is aimed straight at his face.
“Come here, Clay,” Mr. Kenseth says calmly.
“You're never going to get out of here,” the soldier gasps, as blood starts to soak through his uniform and then pools on the floor.
“Shows what you know,” Mr. Kenseth replies. “Clay, it's time for you to learn how to pull a trigger.” He turns to me. “Come on, girl, don't be scared.”
Standing a few paces away from them, I feel as if I'm frozen in place. I look down at the soldier and see the fear in his eyes, and suddenly I'm filled with the overwhelming feeling that I don't want him to get hurt.
“Clay, come here,” Mr. Kenseth continues. “Attaroth himself commands it.”
I shake my head.
“Clay, don't be a fool. Your mother can see you, you know. She'll be so proud if you do this, but so very disappointed if you chicken
out and let this infidel live. We don't have much time.”
“You're disgusting,” the soldier says, staring up at him. “Getting a child to -”
“Shut up!” Mr. Kenseth shouts, pushing the barrel of the gun against the man's face. “You don't know the first thing about what's happening here! Get on that radio and tell your bosses to back the hell off!”
“You're deluded,” the soldier replies.
“Fine. Clay, come here and finish the infidel off.” He turns to me. “Clay!” he shouts angrily. “Move your goddamn ass now!”
“Please,” I whisper, wiping away tears, “just -”
“Do it!” he yells. “Clay, that's an order direct from Attaroth himself!”
“Please...”
“Run!” the soldier shouts at me. “Get away from this madman!”
“Shut your face!” Mr. Kenseth screams at him. “Clay, come here now!”
“No,” I tell him, “please, just -”
Before I can finish, there's a loud bang and Mr. Kenseth's gun recoils, firing a shot that causes the soldier's head to explode, splattering blood and bone and brain across the corridor. I scream and step back, before feeling something wet and warm on my legs. When I look down, I see to my horror that my legs and feet are covered in gore, which has already begun to soak through to my skin. Turning back to the soldier, I realize that his entire head has been destroyed, leaving only the bloody stump of his neck, while Mr. Kenseth is standing over him, covered in blood, taking slow, deep breaths as he holds the rifle in his trembling hand.
Looking back at the soldier's bloodied corpse, all I can do is stare in horror as I feel a kind of cold, stiff fear starting to scratch its way through my gut. I want to look away, but I can't: I simply stare at the blood as it fills my field of vision completely. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at anything else ever again, not without seeing blood and hearing the sound of bone being shattered.
Today
“He's coming,” I whisper, sitting in the corner of the dark cell. I can't explain how I know that Attaroth has reached the police station, but I have no doubt at all. It's as if the natural background vibrations of the whole goddamn universe have suddenly changed a little, whispering a chorus of warning:
After all these years, he's found me again.
“You're nuts,” says Catherine in the next cell. “Come on, you don't seriously expect anyone to believe this crap, do you? I mean, you make it sound like some kind of monster's on your tail. I've encountered some real crazies in these places over the years, and you wouldn't believe some of the stories they've come out with, but they always wear their insanity on their sleeves, if you know what I mean, whereas with you... I dunno, but you seem kinda convincing. What's up with you, were you raised in some weird religion?”
Taking a deep breath, I try to stay focused. I've imagined what this moment would be like, of course; over and over in my mind, for years and years, I've tried to work out what I'd do and say if I saw Attaroth again. I've also known, always, that seeing him is inevitable. No-one can outrun their fate, not forever, especially not when their pursuer is... Well, to be honest, I've never really known the truth about Attaroth and about his abilities, but he seems to have no trouble staying close behind me, even if he's never quite managed to catch me completely.
“I'll give you credit for persistence,” Catherine continues. “You're really pushing your crackpot story and I can see from the look in your eyes that you believe it. You're maybe one of the top three crazy people I've met, and that's saying something. Hell, there's -”
She stops as we both hear a loud thumping sound in the distance. Whatever it is, it's loud enough to momentarily shake the cells. Seconds later, there's the sound of breaking glass, followed by a few other bumps. Voices can be heard shouting in the distance, but after a moment they all stop suddenly.
“Earthquake?” Catherine asks cautiously.
“They have to open all the doors,” I whisper. “It's the only way to stop him. He can pass through closed doors without -”
Suddenly there's a cry of pain somewhere else in the building, followed by another. I stay right where I am in the corner of the cell, but Catherine gets to her feet. It's clear that she's finally started to understand that something is wrong, but instead of trying to comfort her, I simply put my head in my hands and close my eyes. I just want this to be over. I swear to God, death is not the thing I fear the most. I just want to sink into darkness, to have this all end...
In the distance, there's another brief cry, as someone starts to scream but then gets abruptly cut off. A throat ripped out, maybe, or a skull crushed. One minor blessing for the officers at the station is that Attaroth is usually quick when he kills most people; unlike me, they'll just be dispatched without too much pain. After ten years, I'm sure he's had plenty of time to come up with some unique ways of dealing with me. I just wish I knew why he's been drawing this out for so long. In the back of my mind, all the time I've been running, I've wondered why he couldn't just catch me at will and finish me off. It's almost as if he's been waiting for something, biding his time until...
“So this thing you were talking about,” Catherine says, sounding much more worried than before. “Run it by me again, will you? Just the main points, the ones that might help me not die horribly.”
“It doesn't matter,” I reply, taking a deep breath. “It's over.”
“Someone's been chasing you, yeah?”
I nod.
“Why? What does he want?”
“If I knew that,” I reply, keeping my head lowered and my eyes closed, “I'd have given it to him a long time ago. He wants me, he wants my soul, he... I don't know, he wants things he thinks he was promised years ago by a madman. I think he wants to use me for something.”
“Is he like a corrupt cop or something?”
I shake my head.
“Is he ex-army? I heard they can be real mean sometimes.”
I shake my head again.
“Then what is he?” she asks, unable to hide the desperate in her voice. “Come on, kid, let's get with some information here!”
“He's a god,” I whisper. “That's what he calls himself, anyway, and I've never seen anything to make me doubt him.”
Hearing another cry, I force myself not to look up. Attaroth is clearly making his way through the building, killing everyone he finds and getting closer and closer. I can only imagine the carnage and the suffering. Attaroth never bothers much about cleaning up after himself. There's always blood.
“But he won't hurt me, will he?” Catherine asks. “I never did anything to him! I'm not in charge here! I'm just a prisoner, like you! He'll leave me alone, right? I mean, I'm nothing! If I just sit quietly, maybe he won't even know I'm here, not if he's just come here to get you!”
“No,” I whisper, “he won't leave you alone.”
“He's got no right to hurt me!” she shouts. “Holy goddamn, what's happening here? This isn't fair! I might be in jail, but I've got some goddamn rights!”
I wait, and as more cries ring out from elsewhere in the building, I realize I can hear whispering from the next cell. I tilt my head a little, and finally I'm able to make out Catherine's words: she's praying to God, asking him to spare him. Not a bad idea, except she's got the wrong god.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper.
“Why did you come here?” she shouts. “Why did you bring this thing here to hurt other people? It's not fair!”
“I didn't bring him,” I say quietly. “I don't want to be here at all, I want to still be out there, still running. I warned them, I said that if they don't -”
Before I can finish, I hear a loud metal banging sound, following by the creak of the door opening. And then silence. It can only mean one thing: Attaroth has worked his way through the police station and now he's reached the holding area on the other side of the cell doors. If I open my eyes and look across at the far door, I'll probably see him, but I can't do that, not yet. Curling up tig
ht into a ball, I listen to the sound of his footsteps, and finally I recognize the crackling sound in the distance:
Fire.
The station is burning.
“You keep away from me!” Catherine shouts, her voice filled with panic. “Help! Girl, you have to help me!”
“I can't,” I whisper, still refusing to look. I squeeze my eyes tighter shut, tight enough to hurt, and then I squeeze them tighter still, hoping to mesh them closed so hard and so fast that I can never open them again.
“Stop!” Catherine screams. “Help! Down here! How... How the hell did you do that? How did you get through the door? Please, I don't want -”
She lets out an agonized scream that seems to get louder and louder until it transforms to become a kind of pained gurgle, as if her throat is suddenly filled with blood. A kind of death rattle follows, before finally she falls silent and a moment later I hear the familiar sound of a dead body slumping to the floor. I wait, as the silence rings in my ears until I hear footsteps coming closer. He's in Catherine's cell right now, but a moment later I hear him coming closer still, which means he's made it through the bars. I can sense him standing over me, but I still won't look. If I keep my eyes closed, maybe I can somehow make him go away.
“Hello, Clay,” he says finally.
Tears run down my cheek as I lower my head further, and I can't keep myself from starting to sob.
“It's been a long time,” he continues, his voice sounding as calm as ever, with a hint of amusement. In some kind of sick and twisted way, I think he's always found me funny.
Gasping for air, I try to wipe some of the tears away, but there's no point.
“I knew I'd catch up to you eventually,” he continues, pacing around me, “but I have to admit, you led me on more of a dance than I ever anticipated. To your credit, you ran and you ran for, what, ten years straight?” He pauses. “I can see that if you hadn't fallen victim to a particularly harsh set of circumstances here, you might have managed another decade. Still... What's done is done. The chase is over.”
My whole body is trembling with fear now as I wait for him to do his worst.