Rapture (6 page)

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Authors: Phillip W. Simpson

BOOK: Rapture
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“Come with me,” he said.

It was an impulsive move and he knew it was a stupid thing to do. These people would slow him down and there was no way he could possibly protect them all at night, but he couldn’t leave them here. The door would only protect them for so long. Eventually, they would run out of supplies and have to go elsewhere. The demons would get them and it would be his fault if he stood here and did nothing.

Jake and his mother shared a look. The mother shook her head. Jake made a snorting noise under his breath. “Go with a demon? I don’t think so.”

The warm, early evening breeze felt good against his face. He pulled down his hood and let the wind ruffle his already unkempt black locks. Aimi used to brush it back from his forehead for him. He missed her touch.

Wafers of ash fluttered against his face but he wiped them off, uncaring. He sniffed the air. It smelt of sulphur but then again, it had for a while now. Sam wasn’t sure whether this was from all the volcanic activity or because the demons had brought the stench of hell with them. Either way, he was not fussed. He almost liked it - it seemed familiar somehow.

The clouds were darkening with the onset of night. The moon would be out shortly. He really should get going and look for a place to hole up but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to move. Instead, he continued to sit, staring out over the airport some two miles away.

He was racked by indecision. He wanted to go back and lead that family out of the airport terminal but he knew they would just spurn his offer. He could do it forcibly if necessary, but that would be pointless. So he continued to sit as night closed in.

Since leaving the airport, he’d spent the day in Devil’s Garden, hunting down his food stashes amongst the arches and canyons in the area, digging up his supplies from small, hollowed-out niches in the slick rock. The place had changed dramatically since the Rapture, the once red rocks now gray, depressions filled up with piles of ash. Even so, he was able to find everything he needed easily. The place, usually a huge attraction for hikers and tourists during the day, had been his night time refuge and training ground for many years. The naturally occurring features were more familiar to him than his own bedroom had been.

He’d spent some time training, letting his swords work through the forms while he let his mind go blank. Later, he sat atop Pine Tree Arch near the start of the scenic trail and meditated. Usually, when he’d finished, he felt at ease and relaxed, but this time he was still deeply troubled. It was the family, of course.

Without even realising it, he’d started walking north, back towards the airport when he should have been going west. And this was where he’d found himself an hour later.

Darkness descended all at once, the clouds parting to reveal the blood moon. He got up, cursing under his breath. He knew he’d left it too late to find some other bolt-hole. Nothing for it then – he’d have to take refuge in the terminal. A part of him realized that it was his intention all along. As he loped down towards the airport, he heard the eerie sound of demon screams floating on the evening breeze. They were still in town but he knew they’d be coming this way soon. He felt it in his bones.

He picked up the pace, a sense of urgency suddenly upon him. Something was different. Something was wrong. The demons were coming alright. He sensed them in the darkness, gathering in great numbers, a vast horde surging through the night. He knew an Astaroth was with them; its very presence caused his head to throb.

Why this night would be any different, he had no idea. He just knew he must reach the terminal before they did. He raced onwards, skipping over objects that would have tripped a night-blind human.

The terminal was only a few hundred feet in front of him when he saw them. It was an army of them, Lemure in their hundreds. Above their heads, not one but three Astaroth soared. He wasn’t sure, but it looked like they could reach the terminal before him.

He gasped and faltered momentarily but he was committed now and he resumed full speed, driving forward with every ounce of his being.

A score of Lemure reached the terminal entrance ahead of him. Sam charged, drawing both swords and slicing through them like a scythe through wheat. They went down before him, dissipating into ash fragments and suddenly, he was inside the terminal.

He heard screams and looked down the length of the building towards the storage room. Clustered around the smashed door were many more Lemure. He was too late. They had the family struggling within their midst. Jake turned just at that moment and met Sam’s gaze, a mixture of horror and accusation filling his eyes as he was dragged away. Sam felt guilt and intense anger in equal measure. He tried to battle his way towards them but dozens more Lemure blocked his way.

He was surrounded now and he cursed himself as a fool. He would be of little use to the family – or anyone else for that matter - if he was dead.

The terminal entrance was now blocked by hundreds of Lemure, a screaming, surging mass, rabid in their lust to reach him.

He cut down three Lemure with one long sweep of his katana, blocked two more claws with his wakizashi and, in the slight gap created by their vaporizing forms, made a dash for the window. He leapt through it despite it being hardened glass, and landed in a crouching position amidst a shower of glassy fragments. There were hundreds – perhaps thousands – of Lemure clustered around the terminal. His mouth dropped open in horror.

The noise of their screams was deafening. Even he was stunned by it, and it was almost his undoing. Only his reflexes saved him as a shadow passed over and a mighty blast of wind heralded the attack of an Astaroth.

He rolled to his feet, and felt rather than saw the downstroke of blows miss him by a finger width. His swords were extended and ready.

The Astaroth had landed less than ten feet before him. A cluster of Lemure, too slow to avoid its descent, lay crushed beneath its clawed feet. The other two Astaroth circled lazily some distance above.

Folding its wings, the Astaroth raised all four swords so that they were pointing at Sam. Sam hadn’t noticed before but the Astaroth had eye slits in its armoured helm. The fiery coals of its eyes glared at him as it took one massive stride in his direction. The Lemure pulled back – either out of fear of the Astaroth or following unspoken instructions – creating a circle around the combatants. His own eyes burned, and Sam suddenly realised they must be the same colour as his adversary’s.

He would not survive this. If the Astaroth didn’t defeat him, surely the thousands of Lemure would. Strangely, however, he felt no fear this time, only heartbreak as he knew he would never see Aimi again. Even in death, Heaven was denied him. Suddenly, he felt rage course through him at the injustice of it all. It was just so unfair. He let the anger build and channelled it as Hikari had shown him, using it to power his body.

The Astaroth was within striking distance now, its ten foot, armoured body towering over Sam. All four swords swept out, each one endeavouring to take a different attack angle. Sam had no way to block all four; perhaps two, but never four. Time seemed to slow. He had two options: attack and die, or retreat and hope that he escaped the reach of the huge broadswords.

Instead, he decided to do neither. He rolled forward, between the legs of mighty demon. At the apex of the roll, he thrust upwards with both swords, blindly striking where he hoped the demon was. As he moved, he channelled his ki - his inner energy - and let out a shout so great it momentarily drowned out the shrieking of the Lemure.

With a faint feeling of surprise, he felt both swords strike home, the impact almost tearing the swords from his grasp. He rolled to his feet and pivoted. The Astaroth was still standing where it was when he attacked, motionless. The Lemure were moving as if wading through a thick, viscous fluid. Then, without warning, time resumed its normal pace and the Astaroth toppled to the ground like a felled tree.

Above him, Sam heard the two remaining Astaroth roar in outrage. If he was human, Sam was sure that his eardrums would have split with the sheer power of the noise. The Lemure surged forward. Sam braced himself as best he could. If he was going to die, he was going to take as many of these demonic bastards with him as he could.

Just as the first of the Lemure reached him, the sky burst asunder with an intense golden light and a clap of thunder. The Lemure halted their charge, stunned by the sudden onset of brilliance. It was so bright that Sam had to shield his eyes, so accustomed had he become to the dark.

When he could see again, blinking dark spots out of his eyes, something else had joined the Astaroth in the sky. A winged figure, human sized and glowing with an internal radiance, streaked towards one of the Astaroth. Its arm was extended, clutching something that blazed with fiery light. Although Sam could hardly make it out, he knew it must be a sword.

With another flash of lightning and a murderous boom of thunder, the winged figure collided with the Astaroth and skewered it upon its sword. The huge demon let out an ear-splitting cry as it tumbled to the ground. Before it hit its body reduced to ash, fluttering down on the frozen bodies of the Lemure. The winged figure hung in the sky above them as if daring them to attack.

The one remaining Astaroth, intent on an attack run at the intruder, suddenly swerved in mid air as if having second thoughts about taking on so formidable an opponent. With huge down beats of its wings, it turned and fled back in the direction of Jacob’s Ladder. This was a signal for the Lemure. As one, they seemed to lose all interest in Sam and fighting in general. Wailing and screeching into the darkness, they scurried away.

Sam was left standing alone in the red-tinged gloom. The winged figure dropped to the ground before him, its glow fading.

It – she, Sam corrected himself for it was clearly female as the curves of her silver- clad armoured body attested – appeared as a strikingly beautiful woman. Long golden hair, somehow radiant even in the sick glow of the moon, flowed down her back. Feathery wings arched above her shoulders, their pale luminescence immune to the moon’s light. Sam was no expert in such things, but she appeared to be around his age. A long slim sword, fire licking from its blade, was clutched in one of her delicate hands.

“Hello, Samael,” she said, her voice like rustling silk. Sam was speechless. How did such a creature even know his name? He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. What to say? He had never been good at talking to girls – apart from Aimi of course – and now was no different. His tongue felt swollen. He managed to swallow and finally found his voice.

“The family …?” he said.

“Are gone,” replied the Angel, for surely that was what she was. An angel sent from heaven. “Taken by the Lemure. Even as we speak, they are being prepared for their journey to hell. You cannot help them now.”

“But surely we have to try?” he managed to croak. His heart was beginning to calm from its mad, adrenaline-filled rush, and his thoughts were clearing. “Together, the two of us could overpower the Lemure and the remaining Astaroth.”

The Angel smiled gently at him and shook her head as she sheathed the flaming sword into an ornate scabbard at her waist. “No, Samael. They are gone. In any case, they did not deserve the salvation you offered. But come, I’m here to aid you on the journey which now you must make. Follow me.”

Confident that Sam was following, she strode off towards the west and the looming Rockies. Sam remained motionless, torn between heading back towards Jacob’s Ladder and hastening after this angelic figure.

The Angel paused and looked over her shoulder, her wings folding obediently to one side so that Sam could clearly see her face. “You coming?”

With a backward glance towards his home town, Sam moved reluctantly to her side. She nodded as if expecting no less and resumed walking at a brisk pace. He noticed that she was as tall as him.

He was still not sure what to say. Conversation had never been his strong point, but he did remember his manners. “What’s your name?” he asked.

She smiled at him again. “I’ve been called by many names by many people. The name I possess now, and which I am most comfortable is probably one that is familiar to you. For the last few thousands of years, mankind has called me Gabriel.”

Gabriel. God’s messenger. One of his trusted and most powerful Angels.

Sam nodded. Nothing lately had made any sense so why should this be any different?

Sam followed Gabriel west towards the Rockies, pausing just once for one backward glance at his home town, obscured by darkness. The town that had been his whole life. The town he had never once left.

Something told him that he would never see it again.

4
FOR HIS SINS
9 YEARS EARLIER

“Behold, the day of the LORD comes,
Cruel, with both wrath and fierce anger,
To lay the land desolate;
And He will destroy its sinners from it.”

Isaiah 13:9

It was mid winter, below freezing, the wind blowing in off the Rockies cold enough to freeze an unprotected human to death in minutes. Snow covered the red rock like a layer of frosting, providing uncertain footing for anyone foolish enough to be out in it.

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