Miller leaned hard against the wall. Most of his minor scratches had already stopped bleeding, but his leg ached, and the bite on his shoulder was going to take a while to heal. One of the two soldiers was talking into a little black box. Something about finding a survivor, which meant him, he guessed. It was something he was good at, surviving. What he wanted was to rest and let his body finish healing. Another two days maybe, that's all it would take. But there were more people in here, alive. There were still Mike and Ann to find. He hoped that they had run away and were safe somewhere, but he knew that Ann would be stubborn about finding Keith. Miller was sure that that would not end well. Perhaps Samson could talk some sense into her.
He had taken the time to finish off the last of the wolves. His axe, now stained completely black with blood, had quickly made sure that they would not be attacking anyone else. The soldiers did not seem willing to listen to him, although they did not stop him from finishing his gruesome task.
Just then, he heard a noise from down the hall, something like scratching, a steady rhythm. Like claws on stone. Miller knew the sound well. The parents have come out to join them.
“Sirs, if I could have your attention for just a moment. We are about to have guests. I suggest you ready those fine weapons.”
“What?” the black soldier asked. “More of these furry things?”
“Oh I don't think so. Those don't tend to make any noise. No, these are much bigger and meaner.”
The man gulped and checked his gun. His companion looked a little less impressed but stared down the hallway nevertheless. A moment passed, then another. The sound was slowly becoming louder.
“I do hear something,” the second soldier said. Then, from around a corner stepped a female demon. It was certainly not the biggest he had seen. Oddly enough, she still had a mostly human shape.
“What the hell is that?”
“I think it’s a woman with...wings?”
“Lads, you are going to want to shoot that. I suggest aiming for her head. They do not die easily unless you can get that head all the way off.” Both men glared back at Miller.
“Just a suggestion. I do this often, you see.”
“Listen freak, you and I are going to have a long talk once we get you out of here.”
“Less talk, more bang bang.” Miller gestured to the demon. He readied his axe but eyed the guns with envy.
“Freeze!” said a soldier.
“I highly doubt that that is going to work,” Miller sighed. The demon stopped advancing. “Oh, well, would you look at that.” Its chest seemed to grow as it sucked in air, and then it opened its mouth and screamed. All three men dropped their weapons and clamped their hands over their ears.
A Banshee! Oh, how he hated these creatures. They made his ears ring for weeks. Still, he had an easy solution that he was dying to try out. He just needed to get to one of those fancy quick-fire guns. Of course, this was easier said than done. He walked forward slowly, approaching the first man. He knew his inner ear was not to be trusted and it took all of his focus to continue moving in a straight line and not stumble. With each step, the noise grew louder. His teeth rattled. His ears bled. Two more steps. His vision began to blur and grow red. Were his eyes bleeding? One more step. He lowered his hands from his ears and reached for the gun, noting how slick they were from his blood. He fumbled briefly but managed to get a good grip on it. The gun fired silently as he pulled the trigger. The kick was amazing, making it impossible to aim. Miller tried again, bracing the gun on his shoulder and firing. Again, the kickback was too much for him to control, but this time at least one round hit the demon in the chest.
Air hissed out of it, and the scream stopped.
“Thank the Lord.” Miller stood up and took a proper second to compose himself. The last shot had bruised his shoulder, so this time he placed the gun against his right breast, and got a good strong grip. He held the trigger down. The demon was readying for another yell when the first bullet hit it in its right leg. Miller moved the stream of bullets up, hitting the creature's belly, chest, and, at last, head.
Black blood exploded out of the demon as each bullet hit, making the creature appear to dance a jig. Finally, the gun clicked empty and both the demon and Miller collapsed to the ground.
Miller’s world was pain. His ears rang out with a single note that droned on and on. His jaw hurt and his vision was blurry. He took a few seconds to wipe the blood from his face and then inspected a nearby soldier. Amazingly, he was still alive and breathing steadily, but blood was streaking out of every opening on his face. He would live but probably never hear again.
Miller crawled to his axe. He wanted to finish the demon here and now, and then rest for a few moments before trying to find Ann and Mike. Using the axe to steady himself, he again got to his feet, cursing the crippled leg that made him so slow.
His hearing had not recovered, so he could not possibly have heard the approach of the huge demon that had once been Dr. Vanessa Black. He heard only ringing as she wrapped a giant talon around him, but he sure as hell felt it. The demon hit like a tidal wave, sweeping him away.
He still had the axe, but it was pinned to his side and he was far too weak to break free. The demon brought him up, inches away from her face. She was shouting something, and in fact seemed rather distressed. He shrugged.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot understand a word you say. Your sister there has broken me.” He nodded to the still form of the banshee. The response was full of rage but still completely unheard. The demon lifted Miller over her head and prepared to smash him against the floor. Instead, something struck the demon in the chest, forcing her to step back. He could not hear the gunfire, but felt the force of it. More of those rifles. Brilliant things.
Miller was dropped like a child's broken plaything. Pain lanced through him as he landed face-first on the floor. He felt his collarbone crack and his vision flashed with blue spots. For a brief second, darkness took him.
Then he was back, watching the boots of several soldiers stream past him. He wanted to thank every one of them for saving him a trip back into the darkness. Perhaps he could buy them all a drink at the local tavern when this was done. Did they still make mead? At the moment, he would settle for ale. Even water would do.
He lay still for a long time, trying to gather the strength to get back to work. It did not come. Pain rolled though him in waves, each one just a mite weaker than the one before it. He needed time to heal. Just a few minutes.
The building shook him back to wakefulness. He could hear something. The single note humming in his ears was already beginning to fade. He heard more gunfire. Men screaming. Debris was everywhere. He looked up to find the soldiers and demons both gone. In the distance, however, he could see Mike and Ann running in his direction. Thank the Lord, they had made it. Ann ran past him but Mike stopped and waved her back. He was saying something but Miller could not make it out. He shook his head no. Samson glanced back down the hall, then back at Miller. Ann was suddenly above him looking concerned. She was a good lass. Dirty mouth, but brave. He liked that. Far too skinny though.
Mike and Ann each grabbed one of Miller’s arms and began to drag him forward as his world faded away.
Ancient Awakening (The Ancient) Page 28