Judas (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 1)

by Roy Bright

  Go away she whispers in her mind, go away, go away, go away. She continues to repeat the words over and over, wishing them into existence, begging them to take on a life of their own and pull the creature away from her for ever more.

  The handle on the door creeps downwards. A small click registers as the latch moves out of its housing allowing the door to open. It creaks.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” it teases.

  It is inside the room. The patting heard in the hallway is now masked as it stealth’s its way across the maroon carpet.

  It cackles once again.

  The creature is enjoying its game of cat and mouse, the sickening laughter emanating from its jowls distinctive of that fact. It creeps across the carpet, eyes fixed on the desk, so sure of itself, so sure of that is where its prey hides. It leaps onto it and the phone falls to the ground with sheets of paper scattering to the floor.

  “We just want to play with you, child.”

  It lies.

  “We just want to have fun; we just want to be your… frieeeend.”

  As it makes its pompous speech, Charlotte finds courage she never knew existed within her. Swift and quiet, she slips out from under the drawer and between the gap of the panels and steals out away from the desk, moving to a position between two large bookcases ten feet to her left. She places her back upright against the left of the two, attempting to conceal her body as much as possible.

  The creature roars as it whips its head over the desk expecting to find her there.

  As it does, she seizes the opportunity and draws in breath. Oxygen rushes into her lungs, filling her with time. She holds her breath once again.

  The creature snaps its head back up with a grunt. Agitated, its voice takes on a new tone, higher pitched, angrier, screaming, no longer trying to deceive the child out of hiding with false promises.

  “You can’t hide from me forever, you fucking bitch. I’ll find you and rip your fucking heart out.”

  It sniffs the air.

  It can’t smell her; why can’t it smell her? This bothers it a great deal.

  From a distance, a loud and deep roar penetrates the hallways, rushing in through the doorway and into the room snapping the creature’s attention towards it.

  Muscular hind legs drive it off the table and it leaps, almost clearing the twenty-foot gap between desk and door and to her great relief, missing Charlotte’s position altogether. Sprinting into the corridor, it turns right, hind legs slipping on the glassine surface then powers off down the corridor.

  Charlotte draws in as much air as her small lungs can hold, dizzying her, causing her to rock sideways. Thankful, she takes many more, welcoming the ability to do so once again. She starts to sob and is unable to stop. Returning her head into her knees, burying it out of sight of this morbid nightmare in which she finds herself trapped, her terror returns once again.

  She remains this way for a time.

  Hope has truly abandoned her now.

  The voice inside her head speaks again.

  It is not her voice that much she knows; this is a man’s voice. She doesn’t understand where it’s coming from, but it’s loud, clear and she is unable to ignore it.

  It tells her to ‘get up’.

  She does.

  It says ‘make your way out of the office and go to the front of the building, you must do this now’.

  Before she realizes, she is already in the corridor and walking in the direction in which the creature just scrambled. She trusts this voice without question. Why? She does not know, but she does.

  ‘Everything will be all right, just keep moving towards the front of the building, everything will be all right’ it tells her.

  She feels a small measure of hope returning. It’s just a small amount, but enough to make her place one foot in front of the other, to make her way as directed.

  Away from the corridor where Charlotte is finding her courage, the stampeding creature races down the stairs leading from first floor to ground, grunting all the way. It reaches the bottom and takes a sharp left, heading towards the back entrance of the east wing. Its partner stands just in front of the exit doorway and the second creature comes to a skidding halt in front of it.

  “What is it? You called me. You found the bitch?”

  “No!” replies the leader. “Something is coming. We need to get this done quickly, so stop fucking around and get the job done, get it done now!”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” the second creature retorts, a deep anger in its voice. “I almost had her, I know it and you bring me all the way down here to tell me this?”

  “Something is coming. Get. This. Done!” The eyes of the lead creature burn into his subordinate and it remembers its place, its posture diminishing of that into the submissive.

  It backs away, then turns and heads off in the direction from where it came.

  Judas turns off Henry Avenue and onto Albin. A large sign in front of him reads ‘Sisters of Hope RC Orphanage’, heralding his destination. He turns right and heads in through the large iron gates.

  The old building looms up ahead.

  Baronial in appearance, it has huge pointed gables forming the east and west wings, decorated with crucifixes at their summits. Window after window adorn the front of the building and a wide balcony overlooks the huge entrance doorway with grand stone stairs leading up to it. Above, a large glass-domed attic protrudes from the top of the building with a spire atop, very reminiscent of a smaller version of St Paul’s Cathedral. The well-lit west wing of the building appears to be bristling with life.

  He steers the car in that direction.

  A notion hits him. A powerful directive that orders him to cease his current course of action and head towards the east wing.

  It isn’t the first time he has experienced this. It has happened to him many times before and has been right on almost every occasion. He follows it, without question, changing direction and moving the car around to the right. He follows a small, narrow road leading up the side.

  The east wing’s appearance is in stark contrast to that of its sibling. No lights shine out of the windows and an atmosphere of gloom and despair emanates from them, giving the wing a severe appearance of dread and malevolence.

  Something’s not right, he tells himself, something’s very wrong here.

  He turns off his headlights and pushes down further on the accelerator, urging the car forward.

  Charlotte walks as if in a daze. She has reached the end of the corridor that houses Father Mallory’s office and turned right. She is heading towards the staircase leading to the ground floor and the rear exit of the building.

  Tears continue to stream down her face but she makes no sound to cry. Her breathing is short and pulsing; shock has wrapped its firm hold around her.

  She freezes.

  Her pupils dilate; black replacing blue as they stretch to the very edge of the white of the sclera.

  Her pursuer stands at the top of the staircase, eyes wide, a menacing grin on its face.

  “Found you!” it declares with a devilish laugh.

  She screams herself out of her shock. High-pitched and piercing, it slices through the darkness, echoing down every corridor of the wing.

  The lead creature on the ground floor snaps its head to the sound and bolts off in the direction of the scream.

  He steps out of the car and looks around, surveying his surroundings, then climbs a short set of stairs leading to the back entrance of the east wing. He glances back at the car, the door open, the engine running -a lesson he had learned from many previous occasions - with the light from its interior providing a small source of vision. He swats at a bug as it dive-bombs him and then blows at it, annoyed by the pesky individual. He then turns and approaches the white painted wooden door and peers into the gloom through its rectangular window. He cups his hands to the side of his head in an attempt to shield off any light so that he may improve his vision into the dark hallway. I
nside, a shadowy, hulking form scampers off out of the darkness, as a high-pitched scream rips through the night.

  “Shit!” he says, annoyingly aware that he is in fact, unarmed. He should know better. He glances back towards the car then vociferates as he takes a step back and raises his right foot, kicking the wooden door open, the frame splintering and cracking.

  Charlotte bursts into action as the voice once again bellows inside her head, ordering her to ‘move into the room on your right’. She bolts through the open doorway as the creature hurls itself down the corridor, roaring.

  Its partner tears up the staircase behind it. Pulsating grunts spew forth from its mouth as it pounds upwards, clearing three steps at a time.

  She has entered a storeroom of sorts; a large, abandoned classroom piled high with new looking tables and chairs that appear to be awaiting distribution throughout the wing as the Orphanage attempts to bring its classrooms into a modern age.

  Her small frame allows her to scuttle under the mountain of desks and through the stacks of chairs and she heads towards the far wall to the right of the doorway, thudding against it, wincing just as the first creature races in and crashes into the stack of furniture.

  A second later, its partner skids into the doorway hitting the frame with its midsection causing it to curtail its velocity. It lunges forward and to the left, climbing chairs and tables taking its stance towards the back of the room, holding a lofty position of command. It roars to its subordinate, “Kill the bitch! Do it now!”

  The first creature lunges forwards, smashing tables and chairs out of its path, carving a route towards her.

  She screams.

  “Do it, kill her,” the leader hisses.

  The violence in the room reaches a feverish intensity and time slows around her. The salivating gnashing jaws of the creature move in slow motion as its eyes penetrate hers, the determination to break through and devour her has them glowing bright yellow and intensifying. She has all but let go of her remaining hope. The voice inside her head has abandoned her. She is at the height of terror and tears stream down her face. She sobs as helplessness grips her.

  She wishes Sister Marie were here to hold her, to comfort her, to take all of this horror away. She opens her mouth and screams one last plea to her survival: “Somebody help me!”

  The creature’s jaws are inches from her as Judas blazes into the room. He draws back his right fist and throws a devastating uppercut of might, will and determination. The blow connects square under the beast’s jaw, launching it into the air and smashing it against the far wall opposite the doorway.

  Time returns to her in an instant accompanied by all the unfolding events sounds. She looks up, into the face of the man, the grimacing individual who has prevented her death with the narrowest of margins. She has never witnessed a purer sight in her entire life and her hope returns in vast quantities; a welcome return to her senses. She is safe. She just knows it.

  Judas kicks away the remaining stack of chairs and, grabbing the shoulder straps of her backpack hoists her into the air, drawing her towards him. He lets her go for a split second in order to wrap his right arm around her then pulls her into his body, under his arm. He wastes no time and sprints out of the door, into the corridor.

  “Iscariot!” the lead creature screams and leaps off the table in pursuit.

  The stunned one against the wall roars, pounding and thrashing all four limbs as it struggles to regain its footing.

  Judas is fast, very fast! He is almost halfway down the corridor when the lead creature bounds out of the doorway, its momentum carrying it across the floor and crashing into the wall, halting its progress. He does not turn to look nor does he break his concentration. He reaches the top of the staircase and races down, moving so fast that he almost loses his footing once or twice. Reaching the bottom, he turns left and sprints towards the exit, Charlotte bouncing under his right arm all the while.

  The first creature has now gathered itself and joins in the pursuit, attempting to catch up with its partner.

  The lead creature screams after Judas, it being much further ahead in the chase. “Iscariot, you can’t escape us. You won’t deny us the fucking whore!”

  He is through the exit as the beast’s insult reaches his ears. He jumps the short flight of stairs and throws Charlotte through the driver’s side door of the Mustang and into the passenger seat, her backpack crashing against the passenger door as she lands. Leaping into the driver’s seat and not bothering to close the door, he slams the car into reverse, flooring the accelerator.

  The car reacts with violent ferocity and tears off down the road, the front moving from right to left due to the force it is under and Charlotte is thrown into the passenger foot-well with an ‘ooft’.

  Judas never looks forward, instead his attention fixed on the road behind as he powers the car back towards the entrance gate.

  The lead creature erupts from the exit, its claws skidding and scraping against the asphalt as it attempts to right its momentum. It regains its control and intensifies its pursuit of the fleeing vehicle, joined seconds later by its partner.

  The pair grunt, wild and feral as they chase after the car determined to catch it.

  Judas remains focused. Utilizing the power of the muscle car, he careers back through the gateway and the moment his front wheels clear the line of the gate, he jerks up the handbrake and spins the steering wheel to the right.

  The front of the car screeches around to the left and smoke pours out of the front wheel arches as the tires scrawl black rubber arcs on the concrete floor.

  He releases the handbrake, and slams into first gear.

  The rear tires join their siblings in a smoke-filled cacophony of screeching as momentum transfers from back to front and the Mustang powers forward.

  He slams into second gear, then third and speeds off down Albin Avenue.

  The power of the black car proves too much for the creatures as they clear the entrance onto the road. The leader howls in fury, turning to its partner who has just joined its right side, panting hard.

  The leader rears up and slashes its subordinate with a vicious right claw that leaves four deep tracks across the left-hand side of its face. “This is your fault,” it snarls at his cowering second. “You’ll answer for this, not me.”

  Standing erect on both hind legs, the leader’s body pulses as undergoes a transformation. It moves its head from side to side, flailing its arms as it shape shifts into the form of a man. Shedding skin cascades downwards, transforming into the appearance of clothing.

  The second creature stands and follows the actions of its partner.

  He looks down to his right, into the foot-well of the passenger seat.

  The child hasn’t moved. She is staring back at him, mouth agape, confused.

  “Are you okay?” he snaps, causing her to jump.

  Her eyes well up with tears, her mouth opening as the first cry escapes.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t cry,” he says, his attention jumping between the road and that of the little girl hunkered down across from him, whimpering, his gruff attempt to abate her tears only fueling the reaction.

  She bursts into a blaring wail. Shock returning to the girl.

  He makes a sharp left off Arnold Avenue onto County Route 96 and then brings the car to a screeching halt.

  Reaching out his right hand and with very little interpersonal skill, he attempts to calm the child with patronizing ‘there, there’s’ and ‘come on now, stop crying, be a big girl’s’.’ After a couple of minutes, her sobbing subsides and he sighs, feeling that he has done a satisfactory job. “Come on. Get into the passenger seat properly,” he motions.

  She pulls herself out of the foot-well and sits in the seat, her posture that of a terrified child.

  “Okay, good,” he nods. “Now, as far as I can tell they ain’t following us which, to be honest, surprises me but, hey, small miracles and all that, and if we have lost them, well, it’ll
take them at least twelve hours to get a tracing ritual together and lock you down. This means we have time on our hands. So let’s get to a motel, dig in for a few hours, get some rest and figure out a plan, okay?”

  She offers him a subdued nod. Her crying may have stopped, but her eyes still bead with tears.

  “Okay, let’s do that then,” he says, shifting the car into gear and setting off.

  Kento Kawaguchi and Masaki Togai stand in the middle of Albin Avenue. Masaki’s face is in the final moments of repairing four striped and bleeding scars down his left cheek. Both men stare into the direction in which their prey has escaped.

  Kento turns towards Masakai as a fire alarm rings out in the Orphanage and lights appear in the windows of the east wing. “Come on, let’s go,” he declares, anger evident in his tone. “You’re gonna tell him how you lost a little girl.”

  Masaki groans, and traipses after his leader.

  Six

  The Mustang has been travelling east for over an hour and for most of that time, Charlotte has had her gaze fixed out of the passenger window, watching as an endless parade of lights and signs whizz by. Loud music fills the car, as heavy guitars and screaming voices smash into her ears. She wants to put her hands over them or better still, lean her head out of the window like a family dog on an outing, but she is worried of what the man may think of her, worried that he might get angry. Men do get angry, angry at the smallest of things. She imagines he would sound like the others did, screaming at her for any possible reason, imagined he would say ‘what’s wrong with this music? Don’t you tell me to turn it down you little shit’ or ‘get your goddamn head back into the car you stupid brat, goddamn, you’re freakin’ retarded’. More often than not she hated men; men throw things when they drink; men scream at things when they don’t get their way; men punch when things accidentally knock over their beer.

  More often than not, she hated men but as she looked at this man, she didn’t hate him. Sure, every now and then for the last hour he had asked dumb questions like, ‘Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Do you need to pee?’ as though any of those things were on her mind after what she had just been through, but at least he had asked and what was more important, he hadn’t scolded her for not wanting to do any of the things he had asked. She thinks this man is alright.