Last Days Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Here he comes.” Earl pulled out his gun and flashlight. “We’ll just ask him what he wants. Go on.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. You have the sword.” Earl shined the light on the man. “Holy mother of God.”

  “Halt. Who...” Marcus froze when he saw the yellow eyes and the bubbling face. Marcus swallowed nervously. “Who goes there?” The man hissed like a snake. He opened his mouth and shot forth white foam that splattered across Marcus’ chest. Marcus grunted in disgust and stepped back.

  Earl took hold of Marcus’ arm. “Use the sword. He ain’t human. And remember, Michael said guns won’t kill them.”

  Marcus looked up at the man. “No, Earl, you. I don’t know how to kill with a sword.”

  “You think I do?” Earl argued. “You know more than me. And you’re a scientist. Wait. We’re saved.” Earl pointed behind Marcus. Michael approached.

  “Forgive the intrusion,” Michael said. “I’ve come to see how your watch is. Why does this demon lurk at our gate?”

  “Demon?” Marcus turned to Michael.

  Looking perturbed, Michael shook his head, pulled out his sword, and stepped forward. With one swift swing, he sent the demon’s head twirling into the air. “See? Simple.” Michael put his sword away. “Now, tell me. How does the rest of the night go?”

  Marcus was aghast. “What? That… it…” he pointed at the carcass. “Thing… what the hell, Michael?”

  “Yes.” Michael smiled. “Exactly.” He gave a pat to Marcus’ back. “Should you need me, just summon me. Have a good night.” Michael walked off.

  “Earl? Did I miss something?” Marcus asked. “Was it me, or did Michael just act as if that zombie was normal?”

  “It’s not you, man. And that tells me…” Earl whistled. “We could be in for an interesting night.”

  <><><><>

  Reggie didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. After rushing back from Michael, she showered. With the hot water running across her, she kept telling herself that Michael had warned her of mind games. Sick, demented mind games. She had to stop letting them frighten her.

  Hair still damp, wearing only a robe, Reggie plopped on her bed with a book. She hadn’t even read a page when she passed out.

  How long had she been sleeping? The book was still in her hand when she stirred. She felt a warm aching, the feeling of mild arousal. She opened her eyes with a jolt. Michael was sitting on the bed next to her. Reggie looked down to see the bottom portion of her robe open, her legs spread and exposed. His name stuck in her throat.

  Michael whispered, “Seems I have discovered another part of you that feels good.” His hand grazed her thigh, brushing lightly between her legs.

  Reggie’s hand sprang down and took his wrist. “Stop.”

  “Does it not feel good, Reggie?”

  “Michael, this isn’t right. Stop,” Reggie pleaded.

  “Why?” He lowered his lips closer to hers. “I can make you feel good, Reggie. Let me discover that.” Parting his lips, Michael brought his mouth to her neck.

  Another warm sensation. Uncontrollable, and she barely put up a struggle. Feeling his mouth search her neck, Reggie turned her head. That was when she saw the poster on the wall. A rock band from her youth. Something as simple as that poster clicked her subconscious into action, and made her whisper, “I’m dreaming. Michael, I’m dreaming.”

  Michael said nothing.

  Perhaps it was wrong, but Reggie smiled. She had never experienced a dream where she felt so aware, yet still out of control. She debated whether to try stopping the dream, or letting it continue. When another tingle moved up her body, Reggie released the grip on Michael’s hand.

  She sighed with a grin, and told herself it was only a dream. Why not continue?

  Michael stopped kissing her neck. Just as Reggie peeped out a disappointed “Hey,” he brought his hands to her shoulders and opened her robe. He stared for a moment, then brought his hands to her. They roamed freely, all over her body, her legs, her stomach, all while his mouth pursued her. His tongue trailed at her breasts, and glided down to her stomach. Her eyes rolled in delight as she grew warmer. Then she felt his hands on her inner thighs.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this.” She tried to sit up, but Michael pushed her back. She plopped in defeat onto her back. A sensation like none she had ever felt consumed her, a wave of sexual arousal. She found herself reaching for more. Michael’s hands gripped her legs and Reggie parted them in invitation. He nibbled on her left thigh, then her right.

  “More,” she whimpered. “More.”

  Reggie had reached a point of release and no return. The second Michael’s lips found their home, she arched her back and thrust her hips forward, aching out a moan as her lower torso spasmed in ecstasy. She reached down to press Michael’s head tightly against her.

  While her body still billowed in orgasm, her mind reeled at what her fingers discovered. It wasn’t Michael.

  She gripped a head that felt distorted, lumpy and coarse. Reggie opened her eyes, peered to her chest, and saw long bony fingers, and claw-like nails crawling up her chest. She tried to spring up, but the hand pressed her down, painfully squeezing her breast. She fought, pulling back her legs. In trying to shriek, she saw the head emerge from between her legs.

  His beaming yellow eyes were narrow like a cat’s, ripples across his face, his nose flat and thick. His head was wide, and above his pointed and pinned-back ears, he sprouted horns that were long and rolled-back like a goat’s. Smiling, he opened his mouth. His tongue protruded, wiry, snake-like, and it flapped around quickly just before he dropped his head between her legs again.

  “No!”

  “Do you like that?” This time, Devante spoke, appearing from the darkness.

  “No.” She tried to get up, but four vine-like tentacles shot from under the bed and wrapped around her arms, pulling them outward. The other two secured her ankles, spreading her legs wide. Reggie screamed.

  “Is that what you like? Is it? Dream of the angel, Reggie. Give into him. Let your body have his. Commit the sin that makes you mine.” Devante smiled, peering down at her, as the demon rose from between her legs, his body huge, distorted and grotesque.

  Reggie shook her head and fought to free herself as Devante moved forward. “No. Oh, God. No!”

  “God will not help you now!” Devante shouted.

  Reggie felt the weight of the demon mounting her. Just as he delivered the first painful thrust, she cried out, bringing herself awake.

  Michael was walking in the room when Reggie jumped with a scared expression. “Reggie.” He closed the door and raced to her.

  She couldn’t breathe. Reggie gasped out, spinning and turning in confusion, trying to make sure she was no longer dreaming.

  “Reggie.” Michael touched her, and Reggie sprang back.

  “Marcus. I need Marcus.” She scurried about, grabbing a pair of shorts from the floor. She stepped into them as she flew to the dresser for a shirt. Still rolling the shirt over her body, she turned in a run and tripped to the floor.

  Michael bent down to help, but she got up on her own. “Reggie, where are you going?”

  “I have to find Marcus. I need him right now.”

  Michael grabbed her arm. “Please. Let me help you. I beg you, Reggie. Let me help you.”

  Reggie groaned and abruptly yanked back her arm, blasting, “You’ve done enough.” With a shudder, she stepped back and rubbed her arms. Holding back a scream, Reggie turned and bolted from the room.

  Reggie ran barefoot from the dark house, across the property and into the street. The soles of her feet hit hard against the pavement as she raced the four blocks to find Marcus.

  When she neared the perimeter wall, she heard his laughter and felt instant relief. His name peeped from her throat as she slowed down.

  Marcus lost his smile. “I’ll be back, Earl.” Handing over his sword, he
walked to Reggie. “Reg?”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I need to talk to you.” She backed away, whispering. “Please. You’re the only one I can talk to about this.”

  “What happened?” He laid his hand on her face. She closed her eyes with shame. “Reg?”

  “I had a dream.”

  “Must have been bad.”

  Reggie took a second to wipe the chill from her arm. “No judging.”

  “No judging.” Marcus held up his right hand.

  “I was dreaming…” She swallowed and lowered her voice. “Michael started to seduce me. Marcus, I...” She covered her eyes. “I started to really enjoy what was happening in that dream. I’m so ashamed.”

  “Reg.” Marcus smiled. “Come on. It’s a normal thing. You had an erotic dream. So what? Why are you ashamed?”

  “It’s not true. When I reached down to touch his head...”

  “Reached down?”

  “Yes. Marcus... it wasn’t Michael.” Reggie cringed. “It was this... thing. This beast. Uh.” She shuddered loudly. “God. Then Devante showed up. He told me, if that’s what I liked, if I touched Michael, then I would be damned. And it gets worse. This thing, Marcus... it started to rape me.”

  Marcus’ eyes widened.

  “Then I woke up with Michael standing near me. And I flipped.”

  Marcus laid his hand on her shoulders. “Reg. Listen to me. What you dreamt was horrible. But... it was a dream. It was only a dream. You saw some pretty hideous shit today and it’s there.” He touched her temple. “What you experienced was just your subconscious kicking in. It was a dream.”

  “Dream or no dream, I’m not taking a chance.”

  “A chance on what?”

  “I’m not going to even let Michael near enough to touch me. Tell him that you want me back.”

  “I will do no such thing. Where is this coming from? It was a dream.”

  “Bullshit!” Reggie stepped back. “I may have been dreaming just now, but I wasn’t dreaming this evening when Michael kissed me.”

  “Michael kissed you?”

  “Nothing big, more out of curiosity, but after he kissed me, I ran. And when I finally stopped, there was this thick, horrendous-smelling blood all over my lips. I’m damned. I know I am. I’ve committed some mortal sin and if I don’t stop now all humanity is damned as well.”

  Marcus folded his arms. “Are you done with your rant? Do you hear how silly you sound? Kissing Michael is not a sin. Dreaming erotically of him is not a sin. We have too much to face, this is all part of those mind games Michael was talking about. If you give in…”

  “It was real. The blood on my lips… it was real.” Reggie shook her head.

  “So you’re just gonna avoid Michael.”

  “Aside from fighting with him.”

  Marcus chuckled.

  “Stop that. Be serious.”

  “I am. But you need to think about this with a clear head. After today, the dream, you can’t. Get some rest, then think about what you’re saying. Okay?” Marcus laid his hands on her arms and whispered into her ear. “If I could take it away, I would. But I can’t.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the... I guess I don’t have to.” He looked up. Michael was moving toward them.

  “Don’t let me go with him. Don’t let me be alone with him.”

  “He’s not going to hurt you.”

  “Not intentionally.” She ran her hand across her face.

  Michael drew near, apprehensive. “Reggie. I feel... I feel bad. You are troubled.”

  “Reggie had a bad dream,” said Marcus.

  Reggie spun out of Marcus’ hold. “I can’t believe you told him that.”

  “What?” Marcus tossed up his hands. “He needs to know why you were so shaken.”

  “Reggie.” Michael took a breath and moved closer. “Let me help you. If you do not want to dream, I will protect your mind.” He held out his hand.

  Marcus saw Reggie looking away. “Hey,” he whispered. “He’s a guardian angel, he’s not kidding. Go get some sleep.”

  Reggie nodded and kissed Marcus on the cheek. But she didn’t take Michael’s hand, or look at him; she just walked away.

  SANITY…

  Another day has passed.

  I watched the sun rise from atop a heap of cars. I felt more like an extra in a B-class zombie flick than a watch guard. To me, it just isn’t real yet. Michael, in his nonchalant way, explained that these “walking dead” were nothing compared to what could come. But for some strange reason, I’m not fazed. After a few hours’ sleep, maybe it all will hit me. Right now, though, my heart and mind are fully consumed with Reggie.

  Reggie.

  I stopped to see her after my watch. Michael was outside the door, instead of inside the room. That didn’t surprise me. The dream threw her, and no amount of explanation from me was going to help. Truth be known, the details of her dream, the sour kiss from Michael, they threw me too. But I can’t tell her that.

  She finally slept. But I could tell she wasn’t sleeping in peace. I whispered a good night, kissed her and left the room.

  Seth was being a bed hog again. My slumber buddy, I call him. I could have moved him over; instead, I grabbed a book. But the words refused to make a dent. I thought of Reggie, our zombie-like intruders, and then, when my eyes started to droop, I heard the sounds of early training.

  Buzz and his men are charged. There’s no doubt in my mind, they train with intensity. I’m a little apprehensive about joining them in the afternoon. I’m no fighter. But in the scheme of things, in the grand spectrum of what we are going to battle, are any of us?

  And there aren’t that many. Forty, maybe. That’s nothing. I know our first battle is one to free would-be soldiers from their imprisonment so they can join us. But will it be enough? Can we gain the skills? Will we even know what to do? The first fight is only two days away. Two days. Faith would be a precious gift at this point.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kyle didn’t have to be told anything. Reggie never showed for breakfast, and that said more than words. Something was wrong. The dynamic duo weren’t together. Michael sulked all through his meal. Kyle was a father who tended to his daughter’s business, and he made no exception this time. With a cup of coffee in his hand, he sought her out.

  He found her in her room, gathering up her clothes.

  “Doing laundry?” Kyle asked. “Some advice: if you wait until the clothes are actually dirty, there’s a lot less work.”

  Reggie chuckled. “I wish it were that simple.”

  Kyle neared the bed, extending the coffee to her. “What’s going on?”

  Reggie took the cup. “Nothing. I’m just moving out of this room with Michael. It doesn’t feel right. I want to be with Marcus.”

  “Did something happen?” Kyle asked.

  “Nope. I just want to be with Marcus. I feel safer with him.”

  Kyle snickered.

  Reggie looked at him. “What?”

  “I just think it’s funny that you feel safer with Marcus than with Michael the Archangel.”

  “I do,” said Reggie. “Marcus makes me feel safer.”

  A loud gasp flowed into the room, followed by Michael. “You jest, in a Reggie way.”

  “Excuse me,” Reggie snapped. “I’m speaking to my father. While I pack to leave this room.”

  “You do not like this room?” Michael asked. “Are we moving to another?”

  “I am. Not you,” Reggie answered. “I’m not staying here with you anymore.”

  “I do not understand.” Michael shook his head.

  “Then allow me,” Kyle said. “Reggie wants to be with Marcus.”

  “And,” Reggie added. “He asked that I be with him again. So I am.”

  “But Reggie, we are to be as one. You are not to leave my side.”

  “And in battle, I won’t.”

  Kyle watched the two, his head going back and forth as if he were watch
ing a tennis match.

  “But I thought we moved beyond battle partners.” Michael reached out his hand. Reggie stepped back. “What has happened? You shun me.”

  “And I will. No more. Okay? No touching me.”

  “Can I ask why?” Michael asked softly.

  “Because I don’t want you to,” Reggie snapped. “Never, I mean never, touch me again.” Snatching up her coffee, Reggie turned and stormed out.

  Kyle stood there as speechless and silent as Michael. The snippy attitude, irrational rambling, that wasn’t his daughter. Something was wrong, and she wasn’t saying what. The look on Michael’s face all but said how lost and confused he was. Kyle had to admit that he was too.

  Mark Twain National Forest, Missouri

  Devante and his deviant apostles were packing the vans again. The campsite that had been their safe haven from the changeling was dismantled, and workers moved about like drones.

  There was something different about General George Adman. Known as Devante’s silent “left-hand” man, George was more silent than usual. He stood by the lead van, his head moving automatically, left, forward, right, as he watched the other vans.

  Leonard walked with Devante, but kept looking back at George. “You were saying, about the base camps?”

  “Yes,” Devante answered. “A place for our soldiers to know my whereabouts. A place that, if needed, will be our ground for the final battle.”

  “How long do we have until that?” Leonard questioned.

  “Could be days, weeks, even years. Our army grows, and many lives have been lost since the exchange.”

  “You’ll let us know.”

  “I won’t have to. You will...” Devante paused when he caught a glimpse of Lillian standing by a car. “Why is she alone?”

  Leonard shrugged. “Let’s ask her.” He led the way. “Where’s Todd? Aren’t you two supposed to be ready to go?”

  Smugly, Lillian folded her arms. “He doesn’t want to go to Seville.”

  Devante nodded once. “Todd’s hands are my eyes to what I cannot see. He must be creating one more masterpiece for me.”