Demon Escape

by M. J. Haag

  DEMON ESCAPE

  M.J. Haag

  DEMON ESCAPE

  Copyright: M.J. Haag

  Published: February 27, 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-943051-05-2

  Cover Design: Shattered Glass Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without express written permission from the author.

  Series Reading Order

  By M.J. Haag and Becca Vincenza

  Demon Ember

  Demon Flames

  Demon Ash

  By M.J. Haag

  Demon Escape

  To my readers who continue to support my work with each purchase,

  Thank you and here’s another one!

  To readers who download books from non-pay, non-library sites,

  It’s called book piracy. It’s illegal. Don’t do it.

  DEMON ESCAPE

  Eden Terry survived the first ring of hell only to end up in the second one.

  With nothing but a trowel and her wits, she’s determined to escape the work camp holding her prisoner. She dreams of finding a safe haven and living in the new, devastated world on her own.

  However, surviving alone after she escapes proves more difficult than she ever imagines. While running from zombies and hellhounds, a new creature emerges. This one isn’t after her blood. He wants much more.

  Eden must decide who the real devils are between man and demon. Choosing wrong could cost her life; choosing correctly could lead her to the haven she’s been searching for.

  What has happened before…

  Weeks ago, earthquakes unleashed hellhounds on an unsuspecting mankind. The bite of a hound changes humans, turning people into flesh-eating infected.

  The hellhounds weren’t the only thing to emerge from the earthen caverns. Demon men with grey skin and reptilian eyes have been trapped underground for thousands of years. They alone can kill the hellhounds and help bring a stop to the plague. They only ask for one thing in return: a chance to meet women who might be willing to love them as they are.

  One

  I clawed my fingers into the dirt.

  “Eden, what are you doing?” a male voice said from right behind me.

  “Digging for carrots, asshole; what do you think?”

  “Aw, don’t talk like that. There are so many nicer things a pretty girl like you should do with your mouth instead.”

  “Yeah, like bite your dick off.” I pulled a carrot from the cold, hard ground and threw it over my shoulder.

  Van chuckled, and I knew he’d caught it.

  “Good find, Eden. This is why you’re our favorite.”

  I said nothing. Instead, I crab walked forward, looking for the wilted remains of another carrot top.

  “You know you don’t need to be out here,” he said. “You could be warm and comfortable back at the bunker.”

  “No thanks.”

  I used my trowel to scrape away the dead weeds, then my fingers to dig up the carrot. Using my fingers meant an undamaged root and more food. It also meant my hands were numb already. I tossed the new find over my shoulder, too.

  “One of these days, you’ll change your mind,” he said. “And, I bet it’ll be sooner than you think.”

  I listened to Van’s steps as he walked away, and I tried to quell the dread consuming my stomach. What did he mean sooner than I thought? What did he have planned?

  Turning my head, I watched him walk toward the work truck where four of the other gunmen kept an eye on the eight of us. My fellow workers, who were also looking for missed carrots in the abandoned field, didn’t bother to look at our protectors. Most of their attention wasn’t on the ground but on the trees around us.

  At the first sign of an infected, they would scramble back to the truck and likely run right into the line of fire. I’d seen two workers die that way already in the two weeks I’d been here. It seemed like a lifetime ago, though. How many weeks had it been since the quakes had caused everything to go to shit?

  “Keep digging,” one of the men in the truck said. I couldn’t be sure which of the men was speaking, but I got back to work anyway. I didn’t want to draw unwanted attention.

  We worked for another hour as the sun passed its zenith.

  “Back to the truck.” Van nudged my shoulder with the point of his rifle to punctuate his words.

  I picked up my basket of carrots and headed toward the truck. When I reached it, I waited in line as Van collected what we’d found. Like most of the gunmen, he looked cleaner than the workers. Non-greasy blonde hair, baby-blue eyes, and a classically handsome face didn’t make him appealing, though.

  “Were you even digging?” he said to the first person. I didn’t look to see who he spoke to but kept my eyes on the ground.

  Van moved down the line, muttering complaints about the lack of food each person had found. What did he expect? We’d picked over this field three times already, and that was after the field had already been harvested at the end of the growing season…before the hellhounds started turning people into flesh-eating infected.

  “Eden, look at you,” Van said, stopping in front of me. “This is what I’m talking about, people. There’s a full two dozen carrots here. Pat them down. Anyone stealing loses tonight’s ration.” His fingers touched my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. “What about you, Eden? Trying to steal?”

  “What do you think?” We both knew I wouldn’t dream of trying to keep something for myself. Just like we both knew that didn’t really matter.

  “Oh, sugar, I think I need to check.” He took the basket from my hands and passed it off to one of the grinning idiots behind him. Then he unzipped my jacket and groped me under the pretext of a carrot search.

  After a minute, I wacked the back of his hand with my trowel.

  “If you can’t tell the difference between a breast and a carrot by now, maybe I should be the one with the gun.”

  He grinned at me as he shook out his hand.

  “I think you’re safer with your little shovel. Get in back.”

  I wasn’t safer with my trowel. He was.

  I crowded into the bed of the pickup with the rest of the workers and hung onto the sides. The truck rumbled to life and quickly bumped its way out of the field at higher speeds than safe for those in the back. Unlike most every other action carried out by our armed guards, they weren’t driving fast to be dicks. We all knew the sound of the engine would draw the infected if we stayed in one place too long.

  The truck cleared the fields and turned onto the road that led back to the bunker. Van’s smirking gaze kept returning to me the closer we got to home, and a sinking feeling consumed my insides. He had something planned, and I doubted it would be anything that benefited me.

  I huddled further into my winter jacket and wished I still had a hat. My long brown hair didn’t keep my head warm or shelter my ears from the biting wind. All I could do to brace against the cold was tuck my hands into the armpits of my coat and wait for the ride to be over.

  As soon as the truck stopped, everyone began to pile out and shuffle toward the reinforced steel door that led down to the bunker. I waited for my turn to get out, hating that I was back here.

  Every time we left this place, I promised myself I would run once we reached the fields. I knew I was somewhere south of my home in Homer, Oklahoma; but didn’t know exactly how far away I was, other than it being more than I could walk in a day. Not that it mattered. There was nothing left for me there anyway. With all the infected I’d seen when my parents and I had left, I knew I didn’t want to go north when I ran. Heading east or west would be better. I’d definitely b
ypass all towns. A lot of buildings in one place meant a lot of infected, and I was smart enough to know what to avoid.

  Yet, the guarantee of a cooked meal and of protection against hounds and infected kept me coming back. That, and the threat of being shot in the back if the guards caught me trying to run.

  Van stood at the back of the truck and watched me hop down.

  “Looks like you’re about due for a shower. I’d be willing to partner up with you.”

  “I’d rather drink the water than waste it on washing. Besides, I’ll just get dirty again tomorrow.” I didn’t pause on my way to the door. Van fell in step beside me.

  “You sure? I hear it’s half ration tonight. I’d be willing to give you my share.”

  That he was willing to entice me with food and go hungry to get me alone in the shower made my stomach clench worse.

  “If you pass out because you didn’t eat, we’re all at risk. I’ll stick to my own food.”

  I walked down the steps and wondered if I’d find myself washing backs like May tonight, regardless of my carefully worded protest.

  Through the secondary hatch, the warmth of the bunker surrounded me along with the stink of chickens. Everyone moved toward the kitchen area. Only six could eat at a time. I didn’t care that I was last. They kept the portions equal for those who worked in the fields. One scoop each of whatever Oscar cooked up. It smelled like beans and eggs again. Weeks ago, I would have laughed if someone had told me I’d scarf down that combination and wish for seconds.

  At the front of the line, Grady started down the list of assigned duties for the night. It was the usual “clean the composting toilet, wash the dishes, guard the door” crap it was every night. Until he got to my name.

  “The pen needs cleaning. Wait until everyone’s done with dinner.”

  “The chicken pen? It hasn’t been cleaned since I got here.”

  “Exactly. Our eyes will start burning if we don’t get rid of the old straw and put down new. Are you gonna have a problem doing your job?”

  Only one answer would get me dinner.

  “No.”

  He shook his head like he was disappointed in me, like I was the problem, then moved on. Beyond him, I caught Van’s smirk. Was this how he thought he’d get me in bed with him? Offer to take over a shit job, literally, in exchange for a little false affection later. No thanks. I’d pick shoveling shit any day.

  It didn’t take long to receive my ration of food and sit at the table. No one lingered over an empty plate. Sit. Eat. Leave. Staying only made a person wish there was more to eat, and seconds were never an option, no matter how many canned and dried goods lined the shelves of the enormous storage room.

  Plate scraped clean, I set it in the sink and went to the back where we housed the chickens. The UV light hummed overhead, a background noise to the constant sounds of bird protest. Not that I blamed them. I didn’t like being stuck underground either. However, the chickens appeared to be faring much worse. Their backs were almost clear of feathers.

  I grabbed the pitch fork and opened the dog pen. It didn’t take me long to clean away the old straw or lay down the new. Grabbing two of the five-gallon buckets I’d filled, I started toward the exit.

  Van was already waiting for me. He opened the door and led the way to the top of the stairs. After he made sure it was clear, he opened the outer door and stood guard while I emptied the buckets into a compost heap nearby.

  It would take three trips to remove all the used straw, and the sun wasn’t getting any higher. So, I hurried back toward Van and started down the steps for the next trip.

  No one spoke to me as I worked, which was just fine. It let me think about the past. About a time when being a pretty girl with green eyes and straight brown hair had been a good thing.

  I’d grown up in the country with the unconditional love of my parents and our dog, Tam-Tam. I’d lost her first, the night the hellhounds came. My parents had been smart enough to hole up in our house instead of trying to run somewhere. We’d lasted the first week like that. Lights on at night to keep the hellhounds away, and doors locked during the day to keep the infected out.

  Hearing distant explosions as nearby cities were bombed to hell had freaked my mom out, though. We should have stayed in our house. We shouldn’t have tried to find somewhere safer. There wasn’t anywhere safe left.

  I dumped the second load onto the pile and turned back for the final load. Van watched me closely.

  My parents and I had thought we would only need to worry about infected and hellhounds. However, with those bombs, the world had turned into “every man for himself.” The first group of raiders to pick us up just outside of Roff had forced us to help with supply runs. They’d send us without weapons into houses to scavenge for supplies.

  The infected had begun to grow smarter by then. Most of the traps they’d set had been easy to spot and avoid. A car moved to block the center of the road. A trail of food leading to a house. In the houses, though, the traps were different. It wasn’t an object out of place but what waited in the shadows. The infected would hide in rooms and watch us as we passed, waiting for the right moment to take us unaware. I’d learned to defend myself with whatever was close at hand. Usually knives from abandoned kitchens. A few times, we found guns too. Need was the best teacher. I discovered how to shoot when needed and to make each bullet count because the noise drew more infected.

  Mom had been the first to be bitten. Dad had managed to kill the infected with the leg of a broken chair before it could get either of us. I’d watched as he’d cried over Mom while she puked and stopped breathing. And, I’d watched as a part of him had died when she’d opened her eyes again.

  Killing Mom had broken Dad, and he hadn’t lasted much longer after that.

  The hollow sound of the door shutting behind me brought me back to the present. I turned to look for Van but found myself alone outside the bunker.

  Angry, I left the buckets and marched over to the door. Through the clear portal, I saw Van waiting for me. His muffled voice barely reached my ears.

  “You want back in? You’ll need to give me something for it.”

  “Stop messing around.”

  “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, Eden. I’m not looking for some quick fuck. I’ve liked you since the moment we found you.”

  More like stole me.

  “Why do you keep trying to put me off? We’ll be good together. You’ll see.”

  So, this was what he’d meant by sooner than I thought. I wasn’t some virgin afraid of sex. Before everything had happened, I’d had several decent boyfriends who treated me like I was someone special. A far stretch from how Van wanted to treat me. And I refused to be his whore.

  The sun was sinking lower. The wind rattled tree branches, but that was the only noise. No animals. No birds. I hated that about the new world. Everything silent like a lull before a shit storm. I glanced at the trees surrounding the place. They could be full of infected, just waiting. I wouldn’t stand a chance without a weapon.

  Van’s steady blue gaze met mine. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and that’s why he’d waited until the final trip to shut the door on me.

  “A hand job. That’s all,” I said.

  He grinned and released the lock.

  “Once you put your hand on my cock, you won’t be able to let go.”

  I wanted to punch the smirk off his face. Instead, I used my words as I slid past him and started down the stairs.

  “In your dreams.”

  I only made it a step before he grabbed my hair. I squeaked and missed a step. His hold almost ripped hair from my scalp before I righted myself.

  “Where do you think you’re going? A deal’s a deal, and I’m done being patient with you.”

  So was I. I swallowed my anger and kept my tone even.

  “I figured you’d want to be further away from the door when the sun sets. After all, you said I wouldn’t want to let go.”

  �
�You always have an answer, don’t you?” He pulled me back against his chest then released my hair to grab my breast through my jacket. The next words he uttered were spoken against the side of my head.

  “Lead the way, Eden.” His tongue dragged against the shell of my ear, and I shuddered in disgust.

  He took it as something else, though, because he moaned appreciatively and ground himself against my ass.

  “I’ll go slow with you,” he promised before he released me.

  I descended the steps with shaky legs and a stinging scalp. At the bottom, I waited for him to close the door. As soon as it was secure for the night, I reached for the waistband of his pants and slid my hand in.

  “My hand is cold. Let me warm it up.” I slowly brushed my palm against his raging boner while staring right into his eyes.

  He hissed.

  “Damn. It is cold.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll appreciate it more in a second.” When I reached the bottom of his shaft, I went straight for his balls.

  There was a slight delay between squeezing the shit out of his testicles and his reaction. Once the “oh-fuck” signal reached his brain, his eyes widened and his mouth opened a bit to emit a low groan, not unlike the sound an infected would make.

  “What is more important to you?” I asked. “Food or a fuck? Because I’m the only one here who seems to know her elbow from her ass when it comes to finding vegetables; and I can promise you, I will not be your worker and your whore. So choose.”

  Van’s knees started to give out, but I didn’t loosen my hold, just like he hadn’t released my hair.

  “Food’s more important, Eden,” Oscar said from behind me.

  “Then tell your son that.”

  “I will. Now, let him go before you permanently damage him.”

  Oscar had always been the level-headed one of the bunch. I released my death grip on Van’s scrotum and yanked my hand from his pants. The man slowly fell to his knees and hunched forward.