Chasing the Dark: The Demon Inside

by A. P. Texan

  “We have you outnumbered, five to two. Throw down your weapons and lay on your bellies”

  “Are you sure you want to do that? I promise you will die first.” Nick says in reply.

  Cynthia is reaching in my pocket for my keys so she can use my ASP Tactical handcuff key to get the steel brackets off my wrist. As soon as she gets one off, I reach in the cab of the truck for my Carbine, bringing it into the standoff. Cynthia moves around to the back of the truck.

  “Cynthia, get behind the wheel. Barbara, drive the Chevy. Charles, jump in the bed. Nick and I have you covered.”

  “Moving” Charles hollers. As he moves to the back of the truck and climbs into the bed, where he takes a knee and brings the carbine back up, “Set!” he exclaims.

  “Nick, you’re next.” I yell

  “Moving. Set.”

  With that, I climb in the bed of the Ford and take a position, resting my carbine on the roof of the truck.

  “We are leaving now; we will be back, and we don’t want any trouble then either.” I yell at the men on the road. “Let's go sis. Nice and slow... just creep through.”

  Cynthia puts the old truck in gear, lets off the clutch and slowly rolls forward the three of us holding our carbines on the men in front of us and them holding their guns on us.

  As we approach the men, they part and let us roll past. As we do, Charles and I swivel in the bed of the truck never taking our sights off our targets. As we leave town, I key my radio. “Nick, how did you do that without them seeing you?”

  “Crawled my ass through the sliding window into the bed and then slipped out over the tailgate. It wasn’t easy, I'll tell you that. Just glad my optic is still on, so I didn’t hit you or the guy. But I figured that was our best shot of getting out of there alive and not wasting anymore time. I’m thinking they are what’s left of the Boyd PD.” Nick responds.

  “My thoughts exactly. Let’s stop here and get back in.” Letting go of the PTT I then holler at Cynthia.” Hey sis, stop here so we can get back in.”

  A few minutes later we are back on the road. This time with Cynthia and Barbara driving, Nick and myself riding shotgun in our respective rides, with our weapons at the ready.

  An hour later, we are pulling up to the hospital parking lot.

  1100 hours, 21 September 2020

  I-35 outside Sanger Texas

  Stephanie and Jeremiah are eight days into their journey, and they have made it most of the way to Chase. So far, they have had to learn how to hunt, build shelters, purify water from creeks and ponds, first aid and trauma aid and the hardest part was learning to shoot and kill another human.

  They were just south of Ardmore Oklahoma camped about a hundred yards off the highway. When Stephanie was awoken to the sounds of someone inside their camp. Not wanting to wake Jeremiah, she pulled out the big chrome revolver and slipped out of the shelter they had made. However, as soon as she stood up, she was greeted by a bony arm wrapping around her waist and the putrid smell of rotten breath breathing next to her head. She isn’t sure if she screamed first or shot first. What she does know is, in that thirty seconds, her life changed forever.

  In that thirty seconds, her and Jeremiah had fired a total of five rounds of ammunition, two from the revolver, and three from the shotgun and had killed three men, and Jeremiah had a pretty good knife wound on his upper arm. They managed to get the bleeding stopped and in a matter of just a few minutes, had camp broken down and were back on the road south.

  That was three days ago and now they are in Texas with only a day or two more travel until they arrive at the farm. Both are tired and worn out but now they can almost feel the finish line, their spirits are beginning to pick back up. At the now abandoned Texas Welcome Center, they were able to find some coffee as well as some Texas street maps. The street maps were a gift from God himself. They were able to cut a good two days off their trip by finding a route that cut through the country rather than continuing down the interstate. They were also able to refill their water bottles; as the water fountains somehow still had plenty of pressure.

  To Stephanie, however the greatest gift was from the skies. Last night, they had a torrential rainstorm, and she was able to actually clean herself properly, it was like a giant cold shower with wonderfully clean water in abundance. That was, until the hail started. Thank God it was small hail and the large live oak they had chosen to camp under, shielded them from most of it.

  “Jeremiah Babe, I think we should just stay here for the day. The rain soaked all of our clothes and gear and it will be miserable walking. Why don’t we use some of the 550 cord to string up a clothesline? We can stay inside the shelter cuddled up and just let everything air out and dry. We could use the rest and by tomorrow night, we should be at the farm”

  “That sounds like a wonderful plan, I agree whole heartedly. My feet and back could use the rest and my arm is killing me.” Jeremiah responds.

  “Oh, let me look at that. I probably need to change the bandages again. I hope to God it isn’t getting infected.”

  0700 21 September 2021

  Alliance Hospital, North Fort Worth

  We pull into the parking lot of the hospital just as the sun is starting to come over the horizon. The place is eerie, quiet, and dark.

  “Let’s pull the vehicles around to the back and find a dock area. It is probably a more secure area for them, and we can back them right up to the dock.” I say over the radio.

  “Copy that Top” Nick responds in Army lingo, obviously getting into operation mode.

  One thing about experienced warriors, is when its go time, they get scary serious and are all business; but the minute the action is over, it is all back to dark humor and fun. This is their coping mechanism; it is how they deal with the death and destruction they not only see, but ultimately must dish out as well. This is something I am going to need to talk to Nick about when we get some downtime. How do I deal with the ghosts in my head? I know they will never go away but I need to learn to deal with them.

  As we pull around to the back of the building, we see the tower that stores the medical grade O2, the four large Generac generators now sitting dead; their fuel reserves depleted, and then the loading and unloading dock. Thankfully, there are no vehicles blocking it and we back both of the trucks up to the dock and disembark.

  “I suggest we lock the trucks and take all our gear with us. If we need to, we can stash it somewhere inside but if we leave it in the truck, we are just asking for broken windows and missing gear.” I say to the group, as I hoist my pack onto my back and check the chamber and safety on my Carbine.

  “Here everybody, use some of this under their nose it will help with the smell”, Cynthia holds out a bottle of Vicks VapoRub after smearing a large glob under her nose.

  Everyone passes the bottle around, then she stuffs it back into her pack and hoists her pack onto her shoulders.

  Charles is working his picks into the lock on the door and has it open in just under a minute.

  “Damn, somebody has been practicing”, I say impressed.

  “Ah no sweat” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders and drops the pick set back into his cargo pocket.

  As we all slip through the door and activate our flashlights; Cynthia speaks up, “We need to find a hallway, there is always maps and or signs at every corner and almost always maps in the elevator banks.”

  “Okay let’s split up and get this done. Check in by radio at what seems like regular intervals. I would say every ten minutes, but I suppose that’s not possible.” Nick says.

  Cynthia, Charles, and I start looking for the ER to begin our sweep. We are on the first floor and since this is primarily administrative offices and labs, we aren’t assaulted by the death that we are sure is waiting on the upper floors.

  In just a few minutes, we start to see signs pointing towards the ER and begin to snake through the hallways. Every corner we come to, I clear with my Carbine and the mounted Nightcore light before we mo
ve on to the next. It is a slow process, but it is better to be slow and safe than quick and dead.

  Just as we are about to round the last corner to the ER, Cynthia stops me and points with her flashlight, to a sign next to a door across the hall from us.

  “Jackpot,” I whisper,” Charles, work your magic.”

  With that, he moves across the hall and starts on the picking the lock. But after a couple minutes, he shakes his head.” I can’t get this one it has to many double security pins. They just won’t stay engaged.”

  “Okay I got this.” I say as he moves out of the way.

  I take off my pack and from one of the outer pockets, I grab a little something I found on the old tractor and kept for such a moment as this. The broken ceramic from an old spark plug. I take one of the small pieces and toss it at the window in the door. It cracks but doesn’t break.

  “Hmm? I thought for sure that would be tempered glass.” I say to no one in particular, as I re-shoulder my bag and shrug my shoulders.

  Walking up to the door, I use the butt of the carbine to smash the window in the rest of the way then reach through and open the door from the inside. Not as slick as picking a lock, but just as effective.

  What we find is glorious. The pharmacy has not been touched. The room is about 20x30 feet and has row upon row of seven-foot-tall shelving filled with every kind of medication imaginable.

  “Nick, come back down to the first floor.” I say via radio.

  “Copy, everything good?”

  “Yeah, we are condition green. Just follow the signs to the ER. Right before you get there, look for room 115. We are in the pharmacy and it is untouched. We are going to need some help with this. See if you can find some bags or pillowcases or something.”

  “Well, this will certainly help with the pharmaceutical needs, but we should still look for things like gauze, bandages, ice packs, etcetera.” Cynthia says, as she begins walking down the shelves with her flashlight.

  In just a few minutes I hear footsteps coming down the hall outside the door.

  “Nick, we are in here!” I say aloud not thinking.

  “Well, I don’t know who this Nick guy is, but we sure appreciate the gesture of opening the door for us. Very inviting.” We all turn to the strange, new voice.

  As we do, we see four very large, well-armed biker looking guys step through the door. When I say biker, I don’t mean the weekend rider, put on my boots and leather jacket to get away from the office and family for a few hours, suburbanite biker. No, I’m talking about the big, loud, dirty, leather vest covered in patches, jailhouse tats, on their face and bald-headed type bikers.

  The man that spoke was also the first through the door. He was huge. 250-300 lbs., a good six foot-five inches maybe six foot-six inches or more carrying a cut-down side by side double barrel shotgun with a Bandoleer of extra 12-gauge shells across his chest and a large revolver, in a cowboy draw holster on his hip. Behind him are three smaller but still exceptionally large men. Two of them are carrying AR-15s and one seems to have an AK in a SBR variant.

  The three of us were so busy checking the shelves, that we were caught totally flat footed. A mistake that could prove deadly. A mistake I should have never made and should have known better. What I need to do now, is stall until backup arrives.

  “Oh, hey guys glad you could join us. The good news is, there is enough to go around. So, come on in and help yourselves. We are just headed over to the antibiotic section.” I say calmly, as I step in front of my son and sister hoping to shield them from the violence that will soon be upon us. At the same time, I am backing away from the new visitors, hoping to give as much range as possible between us and the scatter gun big boy is carrying. It looks like he has it cut down to ten inches or so, with a pistol grip. What that does, is eliminate any accuracy or recoil control and makes the spread from the pellet’s insane. If he is using bird shot, everybody in front of him is guaranteed to get pelted. However, if he is using buckshot the odds are in our favor that we might not get hit by anything. Also, to our advantage, is the fact that all of them are carrying flashlights in their off hands and don’t appear to have tac lights on any of their weapons. Which means they can’t use both hands on their long guns easily.

  As I am backing up the four monsters are also advancing. In the cramped space between the rows of pills, they can’t fan out and surround us. I’m hoping this is their fatal mistake.

  We are reaching the end of the shelves so I whisper as quietly as I can and still be heard.

  “As soon as all three of us clear the end of the shelves, the two of you, dive right and I’ll go to the left. Run up the aisle closest to you and try to either get behind them or out the door. If you’re behind them, yell set so I’ll know.”

  “Guys, you don’t really have to jack with us. Like he said, there is enough for all of us. You get what you want, we get what we want, and everybody goes on their way.” Charles says from behind me.

  Just as the last words come out of his mouth, all Hell breaks loose. I see the end of the shelves in my peripheral vision, I hear Charles and Cynthia dive to the right, I dive to my left, as I do, I hear gunfire coming from the hallway and see muzzle flashes through the service windows of the pharmacy.

  The pounding feet of Big Boy are coming up the aisle I was just on, but when I dove, the carbine landed in an awkward position, half underneath me, so I can’t bring it to bear. However, instinct takes over and as soon as I make out his legs in the dim light, I kick out as hard as I can, towards his knee. I make contact but not as solid as I was hoping, and I don’t hear a crunch. The surprise impact caused him to do two things. First, he apparently doesn’t know trigger discipline and had his finger on the trigger and the sawed-off booms as it goes off and obliterates a few bottles of pills on one of the shelves. The second thing that happened, is he is now flying headfirst towards the back wall of the room.

  As quickly as I can, I crabwalk a few feet, away from the man before I stand and bring the carbine up. I fire a couple quick shots in his direction as he makes impact with some shelves lining the wall. Even though I am not sure if I hit anything or not, I need to regroup with the others. As I start to run back up one of the aisles towards the front of the room I hear “SET!” and then the crack of a pistol goes off, followed by the two distinct sounds of ARs and an AK. The rifle fire in the hallway is still going steady and I can hear the loud boom of a large caliber rifle (hopefully Nick), as well as the crack of smaller calibers most likely more ARs. As I’m running, I hear a guttural roar as I am slammed from behind, by what must be a grizzly bear.

  The impact removes all air from my lungs, and I am now flying forward, with a small mountain on my back. I hold the Carbine in front of me, because I know if I land on it, I’m done for the impact of rifle to chest with an extra 300 pounds on my back, will definitely break bones.

  I hit the floor and I hit it hard. I am seeing stars; my head is spinning, and I taste the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. The big man on my back gets to his knees and begins to pummel my kidneys with fierce closed hand blows.

  If I don’t do something and do it quick, I’m not making it out of this one alive. As I think, time seems to slow. It now feels like there is a good two minutes between each kidney shot. I see my beautiful wife in my mind's eye, then I see the face of each of my kids, the last one is Stephanie and I see her on the road walking to Texas and then I know I must survive. I begin to see red and this time, I let the rage monster take over and take over it does. I am no longer in control of my own body the rage monster has completely consumed me and I am only a passenger along for the ride. My vision darkens until everything is in shades of deep red and black. My hearing is completely gone. Everything is moving in slow motion.

  I feel my arms push against the floor like I’m doing a push up, a guttural animalistic growl escapes from my throat. As I do this, Big Boy loses his balance and that is the rages moment. My body somehow spins under his weight, where I am now lo
oking up at him. My large tracker blade is now in my hand and is making chopped meat of this man’s abdomen. As he begins falling over; I get to my feet. The monster in me, switches the large blade to my left hand and draws the .45 with the right. The big handgun goes off twice both shots into the man’s large bald head, the 230 grain Hollow Points, doing their job, with macabre results. The rage monster still in control; with me just riding passenger, I see myself holster the pistol, and sheath the bloody knife, then bring the AR up to my shoulder.

  This demon in control of me, methodically and calmly begins to walk towards the front of the room. While it does, I can see muzzle flashes through the red haze of hate, but I still hear nothing. As we come to the end of the aisle, I see one of the bikers, this one I don’t recognize hiding behind a desk near the front. Unaware that I am behind him he is popping around the side of the desk and taking shots towards what must be my son and or sister. I watch as the crosshairs line up on his back and the AR lets off three quick shots, dropping him in an instant. Walking over, we drop the hammer on another 5.56-millimeter love letter into his face.

  Then the demon and I turn to look for the rest of the soon-to-be dead and see only two guys unmoving on the floor, a pool of their own blood surrounding the bodies. I do however, continue seeing the muzzle flashes of shots in the hallway. Cynthia and Charles come running towards me; their mouths are moving but I still cannot hear anything that they are saying. Moving towards the hallway, I look through the open door and see two more bikers, the AK SBR guy in the doorway alcove of the pharmacy and the other across the hall where we came from. In the hallway, are the bodies of three more bikers, their lives extinguished from the projectiles of hate coming from our weapons.

  Two more shots from my AR and the fight is over. Both bikers are now slumped where they were, holes in their heads, blood and brains on the walls.

  Suddenly I’m in control, I can hear everything around me and the red fades back to the semi darkness of flashlights. I drop to my knees, bend over and immediately begin to heave up breakfast and probably last night’s dinner. Of the few times in my life the monster has taken over; this is the only time I have sat in the passenger seat and watched. I have seen the aftermath before, and it always involved a little blood and some broken bones never anything to this extent. The death, blood and violence that my body just dealt out is overwhelming my senses and I just collapse on the floor in my own vomit and black out.