by Lewis Wolfe
Baal walked toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder. It was large and powerful and so warm that it made Jane tremble. All she wanted was to be with this beautiful man. To feel him against her, on top of her, inside of her. If all she could ever be was a vessel for his beauty, then….
No! You fucking focus now! You’re so damn close! So damn close!
Jane put her hand on Baal’s powerful forearm and pulled herself closer to him. She pushed up against his chest and for a moment they breathed together in a perfect rhythm.
“See, Jane Elring? I’m not so bad…. This darkness you’ve created for us is beautiful. Why don’t we stay here together… forever?”
Jane whispered softly as she relished the closeness to this beautiful body. “You admire this darkness, Baal?”
He whispered back, “It is truly gorgeous.”
Suddenly Jane ducked and moved through the demon’s legs. She ran toward the door as she left the surprised Baal behind her.
“Then fucking stay here forever, Baal, in this beautiful darkness!”
Jane ran out of the room and into the blinding hallway. She turned around to see Baal running toward her. With all her strength she pushed against the heavy door and tried to close it.Baal reached her just in time and pushed back. They stood in a power struggle that was impossible for Jane to win, both pushing against the door with all their might.
Baal roared, “You’re a clever one, Jane Elring! You are a truly terrifying thing! With you Man has created the most exquisite horror!”
Hearing his voice sent shivers down Jane’s spine. Baal knew how ugly she was.
Maybe, she thought, she was only a reflection of how ugly the world could be. Was that a world worth fighting for?
The strength deserted her arms and Jane felt how Baal was winning. Slowly but surely the door opened and Baal came peering through the crack.
Jane knew she couldn’t win. She couldn’t beat him. She couldn’t ever beat the world around her. She had to submit. She would never be good enough. Strong enough. Worthy enough.
Then the tiniest voice sounded through the hallway. “No… give up… now… Jane.”
When Jane turned to look, she saw the seven girls stumbling through the hallway to meet her.
“No! Stay away! This is dangerous! He is too dangerous!” she warned.
The girls ignored her as they stumbled, fell, and crawled toward her.
Jane’s muscles screamed as she desperately tried to shut the door. If she didn’t do it now, then the girls would be consumed by Baal. That one innocence that lived inside her head, lost forever to the terrible demon she had allowed to enter.
The girls reached Jane and hugged her legs. One of them said, “No… give up… yet….”
Jane watched as the seven girls leaned in against the door. Their collective weight was enough to give the raging demon pause.
“What is this now, Jane Elring?! Can’t fight your own battles?! You have to rely on others?! Are you that weak?! Are you that pathetic?!”
If I have to be pathetic to beat you…I’ll take it.
Together with the small girls Jane gathered all her strength. She worked through her burning muscles. She worked through the indomitable self-doubt that lingered through her mental house. She worked through Baal’s taunts.
I can’t allow him to walk out of here. If he leaves, it was all in vain. Arthur will have died for nothing. Caleb will get arrested. And I… I will die.
I… Do Not… Want to Die! I Deserve to Live!
Jane roared violently as she focused all her remaining strength and tossed herself against the door. And then, finally, aided by the little girls that had always seemed so incredibly powerless, the door closed with a loud iron clank.
She could hear the furious Baal rage inside the room. He yelled things that were no longer audible, and they didn’t matter. Baal no longer mattered. He lived now, isolated and powerless, in a room inside Jane’s head.
Jane sank to the ground. The tears ran freely from her eyes. Tears of fear, and sadness, and anger, and just the impossible exhaustion that came with facing off against a demon.
Carefully the small girls surrounded her and leaned in against her. There was no more hint of their amazing power. There was only their softness as they held on gently to the weeping Jane.
Very patiently they whispered, “We… love… you….”
7
Ellie stood in front of a window on the second floor, looking out over the entranceway to the Toaves mansion. In the distance she could see the open gate where the men were gathering around the person she vaguely knew as Agent Bradford.
The men, there were five of them, were dressed in dark blue uniforms, carrying heavy vests and helmets. She couldn’t make out any of their faces, but she sensed that they were excited, eager almost.
They carried guns and rifles Ellie didn’t know the names of, along with belts that contained all kinds of equipment she couldn’t really make out from that distance. ‘Armed to the tooth’ was the proper expression, and seeing the weapons scared Ellie to her very core.
Those men would soon come this way. What would they do if they found her in here in this locked bedroom?
Ellie wasn’t alone. The room also contained Elsa and Jean, two maids that had been here long before she first arrived. The women looked lost as they sat on the spacious bed against the back wall of the room. They had no idea what was going on, what was about to hit the mansion in the next few minutes.
Mary stood by the door, trying desperately to pull it open. Of course the lock was far too strong for the frantic woman.
Mary had been talking to somebody she called ‘Uncle Jacob’ before Caleb escorted them to this room. As soon as the door had closed and locked from the other side she came back from what Ellie thought could only have been an illusion.
Now, confused and angry, Mary banged her fists against the door.
“Let us out! Let us out of here right now!”
Ellie knew better. She understood that they were safest in this locked bedroom, huddled up together where the men could not reach them. Maybe they would be lucky and the men wouldn’t even realize they were here at all. If everybody was quiet, that was.
“Mary! Please stop it! Come look outside,” she said.
Mary’s strong steps took her away from the door and over to the window. She gasped when she realized what was going on.
“Who are those men?! What are they doing here? Are we hostages?!”
Ellie didn’t have the words to explain what was going on. If she was being completely honest with herself, she didn’t understand much of it either. All she knew was that this was Jane Elring’s design. Ellie believed in Jane Elring. She owed her savior that faith, the girl thought.
“You see why you have to be quiet now, Mary? Those men aren’t our friends. If we keep quiet they may not even find us.”
Before Mary could answer, one of the men outside yelled words that sent shivers down Ellie’s spine.
“Ready! Head out!”
Ellie watched as the five men hurried up the small road toward the mansion. The two in front carried a metal battering ram to force the door open. They were followed by the three others that had their weapons ready, eager for the first excuse to use them. A short distance behind this group of anonymous but terrifying men came Agent Bradford. He too had his gun ready.
Scared though she was, Ellie couldn’t help but think that the special agent looked very tired. His eyes were dark and hollow, his hair was wild and, mostly, his movements were slower and less secure than those of the other men.
When the men reached the front door Mary ran over to the two maids and yanked them off the bed. Her strong arms guided them across the room.
“In the corner! Get in the corner!”
The two women crawled up in the corner farthest from the door and sat weeping with their red and terrified eyes. Something like this wasn’t supposed to happen in the safety of the Toaves mansion. Something
like this was not supposed to be part of a maid’s reality. Yet here they were, in the discomfort of each other’s company, waiting for the anonymous men that could easily shoot them to pieces.
The sound of the men breaking through the door echoed through the entire mansion. It curved up the stairs and haunted the countless corridors. They had entered, they were here, and you best stay out of their way.
Mary hurried over to Ellie and pulled the girl close against her bosom. Together they walked toward the corner where the maids were sitting and joined them on the floor.
“Don’t be afraid, Ellie,” Mary whispered to her as she stroked the girl’s hair. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.”
Ellie knew that Mary’s new mantra was as much for herself as for Ellie’s benefit. Still, she found a strange comfort in the strong woman’s arms. Sitting like this, shielded by a woman much bigger and stronger than she was, almost felt like having a mother again.
Reality struck Ellie’s mind when gunshots started to echo through the air. They tore at the girl’s soul and her body froze up. A mortal fear gripped her throat and choked the life out of her.Then, violent roars echoed through the mansion.
“Who the fuck is that?!”
“Where is he coming from?!”
“Huddle up! Huddle up!”
And then Agent Bradford’s voice. “Hold him off me! Just hold him off me! We only need the girl!”
More gunshots ruptured the air, followed by shouts carried in an undertone of shock and confusion.
“Stokely?! Stokely?! He fucking got Stokely!”
“We’re sitting ducks here! This house is a fucking maze!”
Agent Bradford’s voice. “Move forward! We’re not leaving without the girl!”
A single pair of footsteps came running up the stairs. It echoed through the hallway and when it neared the bedroom Ellie’s heart almost exploded.
He was here. A man with a gun. A man that wasn’t afraid to kill. A man that was so powerful, none of the women in the room would be able to resist him. He would kick in the door, he would see them, hate them, and fill their weak bodies with countless bullets. Ellie’s death was on the floor, in the corner of a bedroom, huddled up with Mary Holsworth.
Somebody yanked at the door, concluded it was locked, and moved on to the next room.
Mary whispered in Ellie’s ear, “It’s okay…. It’s okay…. We’re safe here. They won’t get in here….”
Slowly Ellie shook her head. She had believed in Jane Elring but, underneath the horrible pressure of the gunshots and the violent shouting, that faith was quickly deserting her.
8
Agent Bradford ran through the hallway on the second floor, pulling at doors left and right. He knew that the room he was looking for wouldn’t be locked. Jane Elring had wanted a confrontation and she wouldn’t skip out on him now.
Downstairs the gunshots ripped through the air. Excited voices boomed through the mansion.
Stokely was dead; Agent Bradford had known it as soon as he saw him hit the ground. Which meant there were now four left. Three, really, because Jones had taken a bullet to the knee that shattered most of his leg.
Agent Bradford went from door to door until he reached the end of the hallway. There he found the last room on this side of the second floor. He pulled the handle, felt that it budged underneath the weight of his grip, and opened the door. Immediately his hand slipped into his pocket.
He stepped inside and found Jane Elring standing in the middle of the room. Her face was bloody, with red stains across her lips and cheeks, and he could only guess at what kind of strain she had put on herself. The girl’s eyes were a deep red, full of tears, and entirely exhausted. This was easy pickings, Agent Bradford thought.
Another round of gunshots sounded from downstairs and this time the voices that followed could no longer mask their concern.
“Captain?! Captain?! He shot the captain! This is insane! We have to get the fuck out of here!”
“No, I shot him! I drew blood! I know it!”
Agent Bradford pulled his mind away from the events downstairs, events that he could barely reconstruct.
Jane said with a tired and broken voice, “Only two left. He might actually do it….”
Agent Bradford shook his head. “This is fucking crazy! How many people have to die so you can get what you want?”
The special agent saw no emotion on the girl’s bloodstained face. He saw only the ghastly red stare that never seemed to waver.
“Tell me! How many have to fucking die, you selfish piece of shit?!”
It was then that he noticed the office chair in the corner of the room. It stood next to the window and on it sat the pale corpse of Arthur Toaves.
“You’ve lost it…. You’ve completely lost it. What did he ever do to you?! Why the fuck did you have to kill him?!”
Jane Elring said nothing and Agent Bradford wasn’t sure why. Was she unable to speak because the blood flowing from her brain flooded her throat? Or did she consider him so unimportant that she wouldn’t waste any more words on him?
Jane Elring’s rusty voice ignored his thoughts. “Agent Bradford… Just push the button….”
He wouldn’t let her get off that easy. Agent Bradford wanted an explanation. He demanded one. Not receiving an explanation would only underscore how poorly he felt about himself right now.
He had sent a group of five men into this forsaken building, only for three to be gunned down by the bodyguard he had vastly underestimated. His miscalculation, his mistake.
Jane said with a broken voice, “You…you give me a monster’s abilities. Then, when I use them to get what you take for granted—my freedom, a life of my own—I am the bad guy.
“I am very tired, Agent Bradford… and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You’ll never understand and that’s okay…. I don’t hate you for it. I… forgive you.
“Please just… push the button?”
Agent Bradford looked at her bloodstained face one last time. He looked at the dead Arthur Toaves sitting in the corner of the room. He listened to the gunshots that came from downstairs and the panicked yells that followed them.
He had to move now. They wouldn’t be able to hold the bodyguard off forever.
Agent Bradford took the button from his pocket and held it out in front of him. All his anger, all his frustration, all his undeniable rage would explode into one single movement of his finger.
He pushed the button and a terrible scream came from Jane Elring’s bloody mouth. It was a scream filled with pain and fear. A pain he wanted her to feel. A fear he wanted her to experience. Agent Bradford wanted Jane Elring to be afraid, because he had always been afraid of her.
He watched as the girl collapsed and fell face-first to the ground.
Agent Bradford hurried over to her and picked her up. She was such a lightweight that it took him almost no effort.
Two more gunshots fired through the air and then all went silent. They weren’t followed by shouting. There was no sound of victory. Agent Bradford was afraid to guess at what it meant but deep down inside he already knew.
9
Caleb wasn’t feeling very well. They’d got him pretty good.
His right arm dangled next to his body; it was swollen and bloody and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to use it again. He thought there might be muscle damage.
He’d got them pretty good, too. Three were dead. Two were incapacitated. Caleb didn’t know how, but he had somehow been the victor.
No time to celebrate, though. His blood loss meant that he could collapse any minute now and there was still the special agent to contend with. After that, if he got that far, he still had to drive out of here. Caleb had no idea how he was going to pull any of it off.
He recited a mantra he’d learned in the army. “Move through the pain. Move through the pain. The pain isn’t real. You made it up because you’re a lazy piece of shit that doesn’t want to move anymore. Move through
the pain. Move through the pain. If you don’t want it, the pain isn’t there.”
Caleb moved through the pain and up the stairs toward the second floor. He clenched the gun in his left hand, not his shooting hand, and tried to count how many bullets he had left. Three, he concluded, and he was certain of it.
He reached the second floor and turned to his left. There he saw Agent Bradford walk out of the office with Jane Elring in his arms. The two men locked eyes and they both knew how this was going to end between them. The special agent couldn’t give up, and neither could Caleb.
Caleb watched as Agent Bradford threw Jane on the ground and jumped back inside the office.
In response, Caleb backed up a few steps so he could hide around the corner. This was a shootout now and he had to do it with three bullets that he could only fire with his left hand. Not his shooting hand.
Caleb peered around the corner and saw Agent Bradford with his gun ready. The special agent fired two shots and Caleb was just in time to retreat back around the corner.
This was impossible, Caleb thought. He could never win this. Caleb stared at his ruined right arm that seemed to look, and feel, worse by the minute. Then he looked at the gun in his left hand. Three bullets. Not his shooting hand. Impossible.
But what if he sacrificed himself? What if he could buy Jane more time? She would wake up in a few hours, and maybe there would still be time for her to escape then.
Suicide? Caleb heard himself ask the question inside his head. What was his life worth? Was it worth more than Jane’s? Was it worth the same? Less? How could he define the worth of life? His or that of any other?
Suicide? The idea of death didn’t really bother Caleb all that much. What did he have to live for, anyway? There was no family. There was no loved one. The only close connection he had was to the ginger bastard that lived inside his head. And to Jane. He felt connected to Jane.
Suicide. Caleb turned around the corner and ran up to the office. He was going to meet the special agent head-on. He’d fire three bullets and then he just had to hope one would hit.