Blood of Hope

by Wood, Rick

  If being a coward would end the anguish, then he would be a coward.

  “What has the boy got to do with Father Douglas?”

  “What boy?”

  “His name was Martin. How has he come by these powers?”

  “Martin, Martin…” Cameron racked his brain. “Oh God, you mean the boy… he is supposed to be the saviour, the one to lead whatever Derek is recruiting for…”

  “Are you telling me, Derek Lansdale is building an army?”

  “I… I don’t know!”

  “And this army is to be led by a sixteen-year-old boy?”

  “I don’t know, please, I don’t know! Just let me go, I’ll tell you whatever I can!”

  The beast took a few sinister steps forward and its jaw came into view. Dripping saliva, cracked teeth and dark-red stains exuded from his wicked mouth.

  “Oh God…” Cameron begged. The more he saw of this creature, the more frightened he grew.

  “How much does this boy know what he is capable of?”

  “I don’t – I don’t even know what he’s capable of, how could I know?”

  Again the beast stepped forward, its bloody eyes and malevolent presence looming dangerously closer.

  “Are you telling me you know nothing more?”

  “Exactly, exactly!”

  “Then you are of no use!”

  A claw lashed out from the beast’s body and ripped from Cameron’s groin to the top of his head, separating him into two bloody heaps. His intestines fell like a dropped pudding, spreading over the snow with splatters of red.

  The beast turned its head away.

  So Derek Lansdale had found a boy with powers like his own.

  He was going to use him to lead an army he was recruiting.

  There was only one way this boy had such a gift.

  He was his opposite.

  Which meant he must die.

  35

  Even an English summer wasn’t summer. Aisha was ridiculously cold. Mumbai had always been so humid, even the streets she’d slept on had a hesitant warmth. But the late afternoon summer’s breeze filled the garden, raising the hairs on her arms.

  “I’m a psychic,” Elisha declared, bracelets jangling around her arm. “Been doing this for many, many years now.”

  “Seriously?” Tee-Yong Sun asked, sticking his bottom lip out with an approving nod. “Can you tell us something about Aisha?”

  Elisha smiled. She loved being tested, being able to prove doubters wrong. She turned to Aisha, narrowing her eyes, taking her in. Elisha’s expression grew excitedly curious, highly anticipating what secrets she could discover.

  “Aisha is your name,” Elisha announced, her thick California accent sounding dominant to Elisha’s frail mind. “You’re fourteen. And you live on the streets. I’m sorry to hear that, Aisha.”

  Aisha forced a smile, looking down.

  “What do you do?” Elisha asked Tee-Yung.

  “I’m a telekinetic. I can move stuff with my mind.”

  “Really?” Aisha eagerly lifted her head. She’d never met anyone like her before.

  “Yeah, watch!” Tee-Yung instructed, turning cockily to see what he could move.

  He fixed his gaze on a bench in the corner of the garden. With a sly smile and a flick of his head – that bench tumbled over and flew halfway across the lawn.

  “Whoa!” Aisha gasped in awe.

  “So what do you do?” Tee-Yung enquired as he turned to Aisha, strutting like the dominant lion of the pack, smug at his success.

  “I…” Aisha drifted off. What did he call it? A telekinetic? “I’m a tele – I’m like you.”

  “Seriously?” Tee-Yung stood back, impressed. “Show us then.”

  “I – I’m not so good with the control,” Aisha admitted, dropping her head. “It just kind of happens, I don’t necessarily make it happen.”

  “Hey, I’ll help you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, come on, stand next to me.”

  Jumping to her feet with enthusiasm, Aisha took her place next to Tee-Yung and followed his instructions.

  “Right, you’ve got to stand like this,” Tee-Yung began, moving his legs shoulder-width apart. Aisha followed. “Then move your arms like this.”

  He circled his hands, generating as much speed as he could. Then, in a sudden, unexpected motion, he threw his hands out. The bench went hurtling toward the far wall – then stopped mid-air as Tee-Yung froze his arms. As he opened his palms, the bench dropped to the floor.

  Aisha mimicked him exactly. Circled her hands, getting faster and faster, throwing them out, then – nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  She felt like a fool.

  “You’ve got to quieten your mind,” came a firm voice from behind her. She abruptly turned around.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Oh my God, you’re him?” she gasped.

  “Him? Is that what they call me?” the man replied.

  “No. I mean… you’re Martin. You’re the one who’s supposed to lead us.”

  Martin forced a weak smile and vacantly nodded.

  “Supposedly, yeah,” he chuckled to himself.

  Aisha looked to Tee-Yung, who was in just as much awe.

  “Elisha, you’re a psychic, tell me,” Martin began, resting himself against the bench Elisha sat on. Despite being an experienced, older woman, she too was dumbfounded at the ease at which Martin spoke to them. “What is her state-of-mind?”

  “In one word?” Elisha began, focussing on Aisha. “Chaotic. It’s noisy, full of stormy thoughts.”

  “Hear that?” Martin directed at Aisha. “Do something for me. Close your eyes.”

  Aisha closed her eyes.

  “Clear your mind of everything.”

  She willed her mind to go blank, free of thought, free of anxiety. It was tough, but she wanted to impress Martin so much that she willed herself to try.

  “Now listen to everything. Feel it, smell it, take in your surroundings. Listen to the wind, feel it brush against the hairs on your arm. Listen to the distant voices, feel the smell of the breeze. Feel everything.”

  She tried.

  She could.

  Everything. The flicker of wind brushing against her face. The bustle of people inside the house. The smell of distant smoke from someone’s barbeque.

  “Now try again.”

  Aisha’s eyes opened.

  She focussed on the bench.

  Move. Come on, move.

  Every piece of energy and focus she had, she put into moving that bench.

  Ever so slightly, the bench wobbled.

  She grinned with delight, throwing her arms in the air, jumping for triumphant joy.

  Martin smiled back at her.

  “There you go,” he spoke as he wandered aimlessly back into the house. “You’ll be moving mountains in no time.”

  As he disappeared back into the house, Aisha watched him go, welling up with pride.

  36

  25 Feb 2003

  The evening air had calmly settled. Inside, the various members of Humanity’s Hope (as they had decided to call themselves) gathered for evening tea.

  Martin wasn’t hungry.

  It was a peaceful, tranquil night and he enjoyed being outdoors, on his own, far more than he enjoyed being stared at. If he had to hear “so you’re the boy who’s going to lead us” one more time he was going to scream.

  Instead, he used an adjacent field, where no one thought to go. He propped his wooden target into the ground and measured out thirty yards with his pace.Again and again, he conjured various forms of fire and launched them forward. He managed to create balls of fire, streams of fire, and flickering flames. But one thing he was failing to master was his aim. He was getting the edges of the wooden circle, but not the centre mark he aimed at.

  After trying again, he huffed and dropped his head. He was exhausted. But he needed to be able to do this, otherwise he was going to look like a sham to everyone else. They
all looked to him to be this amazing, talented leader who could do far more than they could. As it was, he felt like a fraud.

  “Father Douglas has taught you well,” acknowledged a voice from behind Martin, making him jump.

  He glanced over his shoulder to find Derek approaching, coat and gloves on, greeting him with a warm smile.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Derek asked. “Or would you rather be alone?”

  “Don’t care,” Martin shrugged. “Join me if you want.”

  Derek perched against a tree stump to the side of Martin, his hands nestled in his pockets, looking upon the young man.

  “You doubt yourself too much,” Derek announced. “That’s why you’re not hitting the target.”

  “Nah, that’s not what it is.”

  “Are you so sure? Father Douglas taught you to quieten your mind, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, how can your mind be quiet, when you are adamantly thinking so many bad thoughts?”

  Martin nodded. It was worth a try.

  “Believe you can do it,” Derek passionately exclaimed. “Then you will do it. It is as simple as that.”

  Martin turned to the target and readied himself.

  Right, believe I can do it.

  He closed his eyes to calm his mind, then opened them again. His eyes locked onto the bullseye before him.

  I can do it.

  I can do it.

  I can do it.

  He threw his hands forward, sending a fire ball quickly hurtling at the wooden prop. Sure enough, it hit the bullseye with immaculate precision.

  Derek laughed heartily and threw his hands in the air.

  “See, what did I tell you?” Derek grinned.

  “All right, all right, you were right, I get it,” Martin agreed, playfully rolling his eyes.

  He walked over to Derek and sat beside him, gazing into the night air.

  “Did you ever train Eddie like this?” Martin wondered.

  Derek’s smile faded. His eyes fell to the ground and his expression turned solemn.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Martin quickly adjusted. “You don’t have to.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Derek decided. “I need to start getting over Eddie’s death and move on, and that means talking about it, I guess. To answer your question – yes, yes I did do this with Eddie. Though most of his practise he did with Jenny.”

  “I don’t know much about Jenny, I don’t really speak to her much.”

  “Oh, lovely woman. If not a little bit blinded by her love for Eddie.”

  “Were they…?”

  “Oh, Lord, no. Jenny is a lesbian. But they knew each other since they were babies. They grew up together, they were there for each other in everything. I think Jenny, more than anyone, is struggling with what has happened.”

  A moment of comfortable silence lingered in the air.

  “She misses Eddie very much.” Derek’s head dropped. “We all do.”

  “Jenny seems to think there’s a way of saving Eddie, bringing him back. Do you think she’s right?”

  Derek forced a wry smile and looked up to the stars above. Those stars always made him feel so small, so insignificant.

  “Jenny would like to think that she’s forever the optimist,” Derek spoke. He turned to face Martin. “But in truth, I would have to say she is in denial. She can’t bear to lose Eddie to what that evil part inside of him has become, has manifested into.”

  “Do you not think we can save him?”

  Derek took a deep moment of contemplation, staring at the ground. He turned his eyes to the sky once more, then back to his hands. He gathered his thoughts and took a deep, inward breath.

  “Jenny is clouded by love. And I only wish I thought as she does.”

  Martin nodded, understanding.

  They sat there for a little while longer, then both found their way back into the house where the rest of Humanity’s Hope were gathered.

  37

  28 Feb 2003

  In hell, all you can hear are screams. All you can hear are shrieks of pain, rape, and torture. An eternity of suffering for the damned, pounding your eardrums with vicious ferocity.

  Eventually, you tune it out.

  But if you are the heir of hell, you enjoy it. Soak it up. Use it for ammunition.

  The heir strode through the flames, over the lava, through the pits of fire licking at its body.

  Once it reached the throne of its father, its god – the devil – the heir stopped. It dropped to its knee and bowed its head.

  The throne was a lavish, scorching seat of animosity. A welcome aroma of burning flesh rose from the imposing amber structure. Mixed with the gold and blazes of the chair were the bones of humans and creatures conquered. Its extravagant spine sprung from its solid arms, snarling faces the rest for the devil’s hands.

  “My father,” the heir’s voice rumbled.

  “My son,” the devil grinned, closing its eyes, and taking in the pleasure of its rightful heir kneeling before him. “You may rise.”

  The heir did.

  “What news do you bring?” the devil demanded.

  “They are forming an army,” the creature replied. “Derek Lansdale, once a friend of Edward King, has recruited upwards of forty people with differing gifts to wage war against us.”

  The devil roared with laughter. Its manic cackles recoiled around the horizon’s abyss.

  The heir couldn’t help but derive pleasure from the ridiculous audacity of the humans.

  “They think they can raise an army to rival us?” the devil snorted between laughs like a demonic hyena.

  “They do, my Lord, they do. What’s more, they have a boy born of heaven to lead them.”

  “It’s him? He is the one they dare conceive?”

  “He has grown a few powers. Feeble powers. Conjuring elements. The army look up to him, like this child means they stand a chance.”

  The devil narrowed its eyes in evil scrutiny.

  “Go forth to them, bring them out. Taunt them. And show them what chance they really stand. Show no mercy. Slaughter everyone.”

  “As you wish, Father.”

  With that, the heir was released from hell and found himself on land once more.

  It was in a field, surrounded by houses.

  Next to a park, with a nearby swing set that felt like some significance to the man he once was. A faded memory of a girl and a boy on this swing set crossed his thoughts.

  A crying boy. A loving girl.

  This is where he would lead them.

  Looking to the sky and closing its darkened eyes, the heir sent a wave rippling through the air. A wave one would only feel if you had not been conceived by powers of this earth.

  There were only two creatures on this earth who had such ancestry.

  The heir, born of hell.

  And a young boy, born of heaven.

  Soon, that young boy would bring his army to this field. After sending visions of death, torture, and destruction, the army would refuse to let it be. They would surely come.

  It was a matter of time.

  Then the heir would bring forth the devil to this world.

  And they would end it.

  It was so close.

  So close, the heir could taste it like flickering flames on its tongue.

  “Come on Martin,” it echoed through the air to its nemesis. “Come and die.”

  “And he said to them, ‘I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.’”

  Luke 10:18

  38

  1 March 2003

  One in the morning.

  People slept, spread across various floors and sofas in various rooms. Some even in tents in the garden. Somehow, Humanity’s Hope had all managed to cram into the generously sized house that belonged to Derek.

  Martin, like most nights, did not feel like sleeping.

  He had been out for a midnight walk, gazing at the stars, surveying the infinite space and galaxies. Wo
ndering if, out there, there was another world facing the same predicament.

  Did every world have the same devil, or were their deities different?

  It made it all seem so irrational, so nonsensical.

  But racking his mind about such grand thoughts set off his migraine. They were big thoughts for a mind with such small space remaining.

  With a sudden surge of pain, those thoughts ended.

  Something shot through him.

  He was paralysed.

  A painful euphoria swept over his mind. He lost control of his arms, his muscles tensed and, before he could realise what was happening, he had risen ten feet above the ground.

  That’s when he saw it.

  A playground.

  Flames exuding from the swings.

  Running. Screaming. Begging. Torturing. Maiming.

  Genocide.

  His body thumped to the ground with a torrential force, slamming his delicate face into the painful slab of the bumpy pavement.

  Martin went numb to the pain, spitting blood without conscious thought of doing so.

  His conscious self was resting. He only saw through his unconscious mind.

  He saw through the eyes of a beast consumed with passionate, detestable hatred.

  From his claws, fire sprayed over swarms of people, screaming, sprinting for their lives. Mothers tried to protect their children, boyfriends grabbed their girlfriends, cowards left their friends behind as they ran for their own selfish lives.

  None of them survived.

  Each one burnt to a crisp, suffering an agonising, scorching death. Some laid down and died, some ran in circles, some fell to their knees and screamed. In the end, their fates were all the same.

  More people appeared.

  Martin didn’t know where from.

  But he slaughtered them, too. His arms reached out and ripped them to shreds with his gigantic, demonic claws.

  Every soul that didn’t run fast enough was torn apart. Decapitated, sprung limb from limb, opened and left to slip on their own bodily juices.

  Any who did run quickly enough to get out of his grasp were sent up in flames.