by Rob Horner
"It's a statue," Dave replied to Jerry's question.
The boy gave a small, nervous laugh. "I can see that. But what's it a statue of?"
"Take a closer look," Dave offered, holding the figure out to Jerry.
Slowly, hesitantly, the other boy accepted the burden. "Woah! It's a lot heavier than it looks."
"Yeah, it's solid stone." Dave's voice had adopted a strange, gravelly quality, like he needed to clear his throat. But he didn't.
Jerry appeared to be having trouble holding onto the statue, causing me to re-evaluate Dave's strength. He'd held it at shoulder level for several moments. He didn't look like a particularly fit young man, not much larger than average. Like most bullies, he was size without muscle, a fat man with a mean streak waiting to happen. What made it so easy for him?
Dave's arms suddenly lunged out, and I almost came around the partition, though what good that would have done is questionable. But he was only moving to catch the statue, which Jerry almost dropped.
"Sucker got hot all of a sudden," Jerry exclaimed.
"Just because it's been sitting inside my bag all morning, that's all," Dave explained.
Jerry was still engrossed by the demon statue. Nothing overtly bad seemed to be happening here, though I couldn't shake a feeling of impending doom. Call it a premonition, or just a case of the jitters, but the statue had me jumpier than a cat in a dog pound. Where had it come from? Could it really be coincidence that I'd been chased by demons the night before, and now this statue was here, and it looked so much like what I'd seen that it might as well be the same thing, only on a smaller scale? And how had a kid like Dave gotten a hold of something like it, anyway?
"Look into its eyes," Dave told Jerry, and his voice was low and rough again, guttural. Alarm bells sounded in my head, what had seemed weird and a little off now screaming wrongness. I could almost predict what would happen next, though it would have been hard to express my fears in a coherent fashion. No, seriously, Dr. Shrink, I had to run in and break stuff before that Jerry-kid got possessed!
Jerry bent over slightly, eager to do what Dave suggested.
"Cool! They're glowing!"
"Yesss, they are," Dave whispered, his voice now soft and sibilant. The hiss in his tone was the last clue.
The answer fell on me like a ton of bricks. It was so clear! I jumped out and shouted, "Don't look at it!" which was stupid because he already was and it was too late anyway because the statue belched out a pillar of reddish smoke--the stench was ungodly, acrid and dry, like someone lit a whole book of matches right under my nose. As the smoke plumed up, Dave dropped the statue, which shattered into thousands of little pieces. The rock was colorless now, like it wasn't quite what it had been before. Or like whatever had been inside of it was now gone.
Looking up, I realized all I'd succeeded in doing with my sudden outburst was to draw their attention to me. I wanted to run. Hell, I started to, pivoting toward the door back out to the hallway, but Dave called to me, "What did you ssseee?" and the unreal quality of his voice froze me to the spot. Turning back to look at him, at them, and seeing what was happening to them... It robbed of my strength and will to run.
There are some things you can't stop yourself from looking at: a train wreck, a house fire, a nicely built girl jogging without a bra... The boys began to...well...to change. Add that to the list of things you must see to believe.
Both were standing now, watching me. Neither had made a move toward me. Their expressions were twisted, like a funhouse mirror version of a kid's smile, taking something sweet and innocent and warping it, changing the dimensions just enough that what was good became something evil. Their eyes were glowing, lit from within by some red light, as if the spirit in the statue had leaped out and taken possession of them.
Or, as if it had taken possession of Jerry. Dave had been possessed all along.
Their features contorted, writhing in what might have been pain, or some perverse pleasure. The skin on their faces stretched like putty, pushing out to either side. Then it burst outward, showering the floor with droplets of blood. Behind the shredded skin what looked like the muzzle of a small dog tried to push its way forward.
Their arms and legs warped, bending unnaturally. From the sound of ripping cloth, and the way their shirts began to sag, it seemed their backs were also changing, reforming.
Within seconds it was over, and before me stood two figures straight out of my nightmare. They were both almost six feet tall, and had two arms and two legs, but all resemblance to humanity ended there. Red, glowing eyes dominated faces which were part dog, part cat, and all evil. Their ears rose as small triangles from the sides of their heads. Bristles stood atop their scalps, like small fins, beginning at the center of the forehead and running all the way over and down the back of the skull, like the statue, but not exactly the same. Their arms were jointed like the statue, but the one on the right, the Dave-demon, seemed to have an extra joint in each arm, giving the impression of much greater facility and flexibility than a normal person might enjoy. Their legs were the same way, similar, but different, strangely jointed, almost insectile. The Dave-demon had skin with a dark-greenish tint, like that of a fairy-tale goblin, while Jerry was dusty-brown, closer to the color of the statue. Dave had small horns protruding from his forehead, five of them in a row, while Jerry had none. Completing the picture, and perhaps the most horrifying feature of all, were the long, wickedly curved claws topping off their multi-jointed fingers and toes, and the three-inch fangs protruding from their upper lips.
I would have screamed then, would have screamed and turned and run for my life if given the chance. But they couldn't allow it. I'd seen too much. And not for the last time I cursed the curiosity which brought me to this point.
They rushed at me, both at once, and I remember thinking this was it. It was all over for me. But my arms came up by instinct, a simple warding gesture, because nothing I did would really be able to protect me from them.
What defense could I possibly have to prevent those long claws from slashing me to bits?
But my arms moved, guided by instinct developed over long years of Tae Kwon Do classes, swooping in, pivoting up, and pushing out, two basic middle blocks that somehow managed to stop both attackers. The connections on my forearms felt like getting hit with wooden baseball bats.
Following behind the blocks, again moving solely on instinct, I lashed out with my left foot--my hurt foot--in a quick sidekick, catching the Dave-creature in the stomach and sending a rolling wave of agony up my leg.
White light flashed, blinding in the small room.
There was a loud crash, and a strange rending sound, like something heavy crashing into something solid, then tearing through metal.
The light stunned me, blinding me for a split second. Even more stunning was the spectacle of the Dave-creature, who no longer stood in front of me. He'd been thrown backward, tearing a demon-shaped hole in the wall of the first stall before being stopped by the wall separating the two stalls. His impact dented the wall enough that he was supported within his own indentation, one of his legs cocked up on the toilet bowl, his foot dangling into the water.
The Jerry-creature seemed equally amazed, for the moment not pressing the attack. All I could do was stare at Dave in open-mouthed wonder. How could I have possibly hit him so hard? It just wasn't possible. No one could do that with a single kick!
It was a split-second later when the pain in my left ankle brought me back to my senses, just in time to see the Jerry-creature focusing on me, mouth snarling, preparing to come at me again.
Without thinking, I aimed a roundhouse kick at its head, this time consciously using my bad leg to strike, so my good leg could keep me upright. My foot connected solidly, and again a burst of white light filled the room and forced my eyes closed. I couldn't see what happened next, but from the crash and thud it sounded like something heavy hitting either a wall or the floor.
The flashes of light were co
ming from me! I was their cause! How was that possible?
It was the same kind of light, pure and white, which saved me the previous night. Maybe that's what it signified. Though I couldn't begin to explain how it happened, the light that flashed over me in the carnival trailer park had somehow imbued me with this incredible force.
Then a scene from my nighttime run flashed through my mind. There I was, tearing down Minutemen Road, and the demons were right behind me, about to capture me. One of them slashed me across the back, and I swung my arms behind me, a desperate gesture, but it connected with something, and the light had flashed.
As the purple spots in my vision cleared, I looked around the bathroom and was startled to see Jerry lying on the floor next to the right-hand wall, just under one of the urinals. He looked human, and he wasn't moving. Carefully, favoring my left ankle, I limped over to him, expecting at any moment that he would reach out for my feet, his face already changing back into that grotesque countenance.
Nothing happened, and as I drew closer, and could see the unnatural angle at which his neck was bent, I understood why. Jerry was dead. Whether from my kick, or from contact with the wall, there was no way to know.
I didn't feel anything just then. There wasn't time to, because the Dave-creature was still very much alive and already struggling to free itself from the stall wall.
Long, green-tinted arms pulled, and he surged out of his indention, rushing out of the stall to grab me in impossibly strong hands. He lifted me, right arm pinned to my side and my left swinging wildly, then hurled me back toward the sinks.
Luck and instinct saved me. I missed the sinks, which would have probably broken my back, and my body relaxed in the moment before impact, arms down and out to the sides, ready to absorb the shock. Somehow, I also managed to avoid hitting my head too hard against the tile wall. It still hit, sending black stars shooting across my eyes even as the air rushed out of me from the force of impact, but I stayed conscious. My legs went loose, my body sliding down to the floor. I lay there, stunned and gasping, slumped forward like a rag doll, as the Dave-creature walked toward me.
Without any strength, but desperate, I swung my right leg in a painfully slow attempt to trip him. The kick connected, more because the demon dismissed the attack as an attempt not even worth avoiding than because of any speed or strength behind it. The light flashed. With my eyes squinted shut in anticipation, I avoided being blinded. The demon did a standing, mid-air cartwheel as its legs flew out from under it, before slamming onto the floor on its side.
It immediately began moving, struggling to rise. I had no idea what it would take to stop it, and my endurance was at its end. My lungs were on fire as my diaphragm spasmed, finally letting me take in a gasp of air, and the room had only stopped spinning a second before. But I managed to crawl toward the thing, intending to, I don't know, maybe poke its eyes out, or try to get a sleeper hold on it, something. I struggled to my knees, loaded and launched a punch that probably wouldn't have harmed a small child.
Something amazing happened.
I mean even more amazing than the dozen other amazing things already in the books for the day.
As my fist met the demon's weirdly canine muzzle, the light flashed, and then my hand struck the hard concrete of the floor, like it had gone right through him. And when I looked, there was no sign of the demon anywhere! It was as if the thing just disappeared, or like it had never been there at all.
But looking around, there was evidence everywhere of the fight we'd waged--destroyed bathroom stalls, droplets of blood, and of course Jerry's twisted body crumpled at the base of the wall.
Slowly, like waking from a dream, the voice of reason reasserted itself in my head, screaming to be heard over all the whirling doubts and confusion. I needed to get the heck out of there before someone in Authority came to investigate the noises and ask what happened. Dully, still not totally with it and with about as much grace as a drunkard, I staggered to my feet. I gave the room one last glance, still not completely sure what had happened, or why it was happening.
My books were on the floor near the door, and I gathered them up and stepped out into the hall. The bell rang and students poured from their classrooms. The crowd swept me along. It would keep me safe.
But for how long? How long before more demons like Dave tried to subvert other kids? What then? What had I blundered into?
Unlike the movies, there weren't any easy answers. And this was no time for speculation or trying to reason through the questions.
I needed to find Crystal and convince her to leave with me.
Chapter 6
The first day of a new order
Finding Crystal turned out not to be a problem. She was waiting for me at the entrance to her classroom, trusting I would arrive in time to escort her to her second class. But convincing her to leave with me turned out to be beyond my verbal capabilities. What can you say when you aren't even sure what's going on? Hey, listen, I know we just starting kissing and all, but I'm going to need you to run away from school with me. Why? Oh, just the end of the world, demon infestation, you know...normal stuff. What if she looked at me like I was insane, ran back inside the classroom, and started screaming for help?
What if the help that came was more of those creatures?
So, I said nothing, instead taking her hand and walking her back to her locker, so she could exchange her Trigonometry book for her Chemistry text. Somewhere between the locker and her next class, I came to the decision not to tell her, at least not yet. Maybe what happened in the bathroom was a fluke, one bad apple trying to work up some mojo, and nothing more like it would happen here, or at least not today. Seriously, the carnival was just the night before. How many demon statues could there possibly be? I could always come back and get her if things turned bad, right?
She noticed my limp during our walk, and it was nice to hear the concern in her voice when she asked about it. I skirted the truth and just said I twisted it while running during gym class.
We parted with a quick kiss at the door, trying to be surreptitious, though nothing is sneaky enough to avoid the eyes of all the rumormongers in a high school. She would have a lot of speculation to answer to when she went in to take her seat. Her teacher, Mrs. Rogers, whom I'd had the year before, dropped me a wink. This brought a blush to my cheeks as I hurried away to my next class, German IV, all the way on the other side of the school. It was a long way to hobble when your ankle hurts like hell, let me tell you.
I kept my eyes open while limping from one side of the school to the other, looking for anything as out of place as that bathroom scene. Were there more small groups chattering together than normal? Were the Skaters looking with more suspicion at the Jocks than usual? Were those Goth chicks red-eyed because of an eye-liner application mishap, or from demon possession?
Almost three minutes after the bell rang, I rushed into the German classroom, expecting one of Mr. Cland's customary harangues about tardiness, though delivered in German, which made it sound worse than it was. But he didn't say anything as I dropped into my desk with an audible sigh.
German was my favorite class, and Mr. Cland was my favorite teacher. He was a funny man, given to spontaneous jokes and forever teasing his students. At some point during the school year he would announce the approach of his twenty-ninth birthday. It was fairly common knowledge he had a--now--twenty-one-year old daughter, but whenever someone brought up this fact to try to get him to admit his real age, he merely replied that he'd been a very active eight-year-old, which got a laugh out of even the most stoic of students.
He decorated the classroom with posters like the motivational images common in break rooms and sales conferences, Aim high, Drive for Success, A No means you haven't earned the Yes yet. Instead of majestic mountain ranges or space shuttle launch images, his posters featured Sesame Street characters speaking in German. The one I liked the best showed Big Bird holding a German flag with the words of the unofficial German natio
nal motto emblazoned below: Einigkeit und Recht und Freiheit. Unity and Justice and Freedom.
He may well have been the last of the Great Teachers, identifying with his students. He didn't make us feel inferior, but equal to him. We weren't lessened by our lower level of knowledge but encouraged to work harder in order to come up to his level. We listened to his lectures because we respected him for the knowledge he had that we lacked and were eager to acquire.
I still miss him today.
Though I loved this class and usually prayed for first period to fly by, today didn't seem right. My first indication something was wrong came when Mr. Cland addressed us in English, something he’d refused to do in any class beyond German II.
"I've got something special in store for you all today. Yes sir, I do. I believe you're going to enjoy this lesson."
"Herr Cland," a brunette named Lori began, "sollen wir nicht auf Deutsch sprechen?" She asked him if we weren't supposed to be speaking in German.
"Not today, Lori. No, today is a special day. One might even go so far as to say that it is the first day."
"The first day of what?" a tall, skinny kid named Mike asked.
"Why, it's the first day of a new order," Mr. Cland replied, and Fear's icy fingers traced a line down my back.
"What's he talking about?" Mike turned to me and asked. I didn't answer, and Mike turned the other way, repeating the question to Shawn. My eyes were glued to Mr. Cland, following him as he walked around the classroom, heading for the tall lockers in the back, right beside the folding tables where he coached the Chess Team during its practices on Monday and Thursday evenings. There was something off about the way he walked, but with that fear running through me and a hope the fear would prove unfounded, I couldn't figure it out. He opened the lockers, his body blocking any view of the interiors. He reached into one of them and grabbed something, then he turned around and...and…