Tribulation (10 page)

“What are you
doing?” he exclaimed, terrified that he might reopen some of her
wounds. He quickly knelt down by her side and helped her sit up,
conscious of how thin and frail she felt beneath the t-shirt he’d
found for her.

“What does it
look like?” she replied irritably. “I can’t say here forever.”

Reluctantly, he
agreed. The fact that she was trying to get up meant that she was
probably ready to travel.

“I want to
leave,” she said. “Can we go? Please.”

He couldn’t and
wouldn’t deny her. “Where?”

“Anywhere but
here.”

Colorado

“But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who,
after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell.
Yes, I tell you, fear him.”
Luke
12:5

H
e found a pack at the same hardware store where he’d
liberated the buckets and filled it with as much sterilized water
and roasted, dried rat meat that he could carry. Inside another
abandoned house, he discovered clothes and boots that almost fitted
her.

He carried both
packs, one at the front, one at back. Even though Grace was getting
better, she still wasn’t completely healed and Sam didn’t want her
to relapse while they were traveling.

She watched him
impassively while he made his preparations.

“Are you
alright?” he asked. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” she
snapped but then appeared to regret her tone. Her voice softened.
“I just want to get out of here, Sam. I don’t want to be lying
helpless when demons come for me again. I’d much rather be doing
something – anything.”

Sam nodded. He
was beginning to understand. She didn’t want to be a victim any
longer - wanted to appear to be in control of her own destiny. If
the demons took her again, at least it would be on her terms.

They made slow
but steady progress, heading east, traveling during the day and
resting at night. It was easier this way for Sam, even though it
was an unusual change that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
Grace struggled to see during the night and even though his glamor
ability was possibly able to conceal both of them, it would count
for nothing if they were seen at close range. If demons found them
on open ground, it made it all but impossible for Sam to protect
her. It was better to be holed up for the night in an abandoned
building – well away from any churches. Even if demons found them,
at least he was better able to protect her.

Several more
days and nights passed. Finally, inevitably, the demons found them
again.

He’d known
there was a church nearby, but there was nothing for it. Grace
couldn’t have gone anymore. He’d had to carry her for the last hour
as it was.

The place he’d
chosen for the night didn’t often much in terms of respite and
protection. He could hardly call it a cave – it was more a concave
depression in a cliff face. Sam made Grace as comfortable as he
could within while he took himself outside.

It was already
dark. The wind had picked up blowing eddies of ash into his face
which he brushed off without conscious thought. He sat down on a
shattered piece of rock, took out his whetstone from his pocket and
began methodically sharpening his blades. The activity always
managed to soothe him with its mindless repetition.

He felt the
demons intruding on his thoughts as a gradual pressure, slowly
increasing as they got nearer. He knew they couldn’t sense him –
his glamor was still in place – but they had detected Grace.

With a resigned
sigh, he stood, placing his whetstone back in his pocket. He picked
up both swords and shrank back into the protective overhang of the
cliff face, gathering the shadows about him. It wasn’t actually
concealment but it might give him the slight advantage of surprise.
They wouldn’t be expecting him.

He knew there
were many but he hadn’t anticipated just how many. They arrived in
a great howling, screaming horde. Just Lemure, thankfully, but
scores of them. They headed directly for the cave where Grace was
beginning to stir, completely ignoring or unaware of him. He leapt
out before they reached the entrance and cut down several before
they even knew he was amongst them.

Even though
they were just Lemure, there were just too many of them. In
desperation, he called upon Yeth. His Hellhound arrived, inflicting
fiery destruction on any Lemure he touched, shredding others in his
powerful jaws. The Lemure were routed, unable to cope with such
power. They fled into the night, shrieking.

Breathing
heavily with exertion, Sam met the glowing red eyes of his
Hellhound and an understanding passed between them. Sam nodded
once, acknowledging the debt he owed. Yeth loped off in the
direction of the nearest church, returning to Hell, his task
complete.

Sam sat down
wearily, his thoughts blank. He was about to settle into a
meditative stance when the shock of demonic presence intruded once
again. He was tired and realized how foolish he’d been to dismiss
Yeth so quickly. He still needed the Hellhound’s assistance. He
called to him again.

The Lemure
arrived in great numbers. Sam’s fought hard, his blades dancing. He
lacked the strength and speed he’d had earlier though. Even his
endurance had limits. He twirled and struck, waiting desperately
for Yeth to make an appearance. He waited and waited but the
Hellhound failed to materialize.

At first he was
confused. Then he felt betrayed. The sense of outrage lent him
strength and somehow he was able to fight off the horde, using
every power in his arsenal. His whirlwind attack exhausted him but
he had no other recourse. As he dispatched the last of the Lemure,
he slumped to the ground, his swords tumbling from numb fingers,
completely spent. If the Lemure came again this night, all would be
lost. He simply didn’t have the strength to repel another wave.

He lay still
for a long time, gradually recovering his strength. By morning, he
was almost recovered. He and Grace set off again, Sam for once
content to move as slowly as his companion, turning over the events
of the previous night in his mind. What had happened to Yeth?

Nightfall found
them in the middle of nowhere with no shelter or protection of any
kind. The barren landscape offered no salvation – not even a clump
of shriveled vegetation. They were completely exposed.

The demons
found them again. With mixed emotions, Sam called upon Yeth again,
unsure whether the great demon would answer his call. A part of his
soul shrank at the thought that maybe Yeth had found him unworthy –
no longer deserving of his service.

The demons
attacked. Sam fought as hard as ever but the terrain was against
him. The Lemure kept trying to flank him to get to Grace.
Retreating, covered in a multitude of injuries, Sam sensed the
sudden new presence with an overwhelming sense of relief. Finally,
Yeth had come.

His Hellhound
made short work of the Lemure. When the battle was over, Sam
regarded Yeth cautiously.

“Why didn’t you
come last night? I called and you didn’t answer.”

The great demon
seemed to shake its head.

Could not. Only
one call per day. Cannot spend too much time here.

Understanding
blossomed within Sam’s mind. Yeth needed to return to Hell – to his
home plane – basically to recharge. He could only be called upon
once per day. It was good to know. A part of Sam felt hugely
relieved knowing that Yeth had not betrayed or disobeyed him.

They journeyed
on.

It was
inevitable that they passed through deserted towns with still
intact churches. Sam tried to avoid them when he could but often
circumstances dictated otherwise. Grace was often too weak to find
other more suitable places to rest.

After a while,
Sam tried to look on these churches as opportunities as well as
potential threats. Some - water permitting – he tried to purify and
destroy. On other occasions, he used them to test his summoning
abilities, calling Yeth to him while Grace slept. His Hellhound
never failed to appear. As long as the twenty four hour restriction
period was not breached, Yeth was free to answer his summons.

Sam found
himself waiting more and more impatiently every time he called to
the Hellhound, eager to be reunited, starting to resent the times
they spent apart. He was beginning to view Yeth not only as a tool
to be used in his battle against the demons, but as a friend and
companion. He thought he detected contented happiness radiating
from the great beast as well. Over the course of several weeks,
their bond continued to grow. Sam found himself consciously seeking
out churches deliberately in order to summon his friend, and he
stopped destroying them altogether.

Often, they
would train together in the light of the blood red moon, learning
each other’s strategies, anticipating each other’s moves. They
began to work as a unit. When attacked by other demons, Sam would
wait for Yeth to breathe on them before he commenced his own
attack. He learnt that Yeth’s eyes were vulnerable to attack and
took pains to defend this sensitive area.

Yeth certainly
evened the odds – even against Astaroth and Horned demons. Sam
would often let the Hellhound battle these larger demons while he
kept the Lemure and their taloned hands away from his friend.

One night,
standing before a church, awaiting Yeth’s arrival, Sam realized
something amazing. He was happy – well, at least as happy as he’d
been since the Rapture. He no longer felt so isolated, so alone.
Yeth filled the bitter void that had been a part of him since Aimi
and Hikari had gone up in the Rapture.

When his
Hellhound appeared that night, Sam had embraced the creature,
saying nothing. Yeth had let him do it, too, knowing instinctively
that this was what Sam needed. This had raised some questions in
Sam’s mind. Were all demons like this? Did they all have to be evil
or with the right influence, could they be a power for good? For
the first time, Sam felt the slightest of doubts about his campaign
to rid the world of all demons. If Yeth could be like this,
couldn’t others? Perhaps all they needed was a chance. Yeth was
unusual though, having had guidance and friendship from Sam since
his ‘birth’.

Grace still
spoke very little, and their relationship felt strained. One night,
sheltered under the lee of a cliff face, tending a small, pathetic
fire, he allowed his frustration to boil over. He’d finally got
Grace back, taken extraordinary risks to rescue her from Hell – all
he asked for was perhaps a little gratitude. It was more than that
though. He wasn’t the best conversationalist. He knew that – had
always known that. Aimi had sometimes berated him for not being
terribly verbose but he had been alone for so long. Even though he
was more than happy with silence usually, now that he had Grace,
all he wanted was a little companionship, a little conversation.
While so many things had changed, a simple thing like genuine human
interaction and consideration was enough to remind him of the
reasons why he fought and struggled.

“Is my company
really that bad?” he said eventually, watching Grace stare into the
fire without blinking for long minutes.

“What?” she
said, appearing to raise herself from some intense memory. She
looked up.

“Why won’t you
talk to me? What’s wrong?”

She looked at
him for a long moment before answering. “What’s wrong?” she echoed,
whispering the words. At first Sam thought she hadn’t understood
the question. “What do you think is wrong? Have you got any idea
what I’ve been through?”

“Some,” said
Sam, feeling a little defensive. He had, after all, been to Hell a
couple of times. He knew what it was like.

She smiled
without humor and shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. Why
did you leave me for so long, Sam? Why did you leave me there in
that dreadful place to suffer?”

“I didn’t…I
couldn’t,” he stammered. He took a breath, collecting his thoughts.
“I didn’t want to leave you there but I had no choice. Even if I’d
gone back, how could I have found you?”

“Did you even
try?” she asked and Sam flinched under the accusation.

He shook his
head. “I couldn’t. Do you know how many souls are in Hell?
Millions, possibly billions. How was I meant to find you amongst
all those other people? Hell is essentially limitless as well. I
didn’t even know where to start looking. It was only when I had
Yeth that I could.”

“But you
could’ve started looking, couldn’t you? That’s what friends do. I
was a friend to you. Kept those succubi off your back so you were
free to take on the Antichrist. I sacrificed myself for you and in
return, you let me burn in Hell.” Her voice was level but tears
were started to streak down her face. “Every second I spent there
was torture. They never let up. Sometimes they would leave me for
what seemed like hours but that was almost worse. I knew they were
coming back and that waiting was the worst part. The only thing
that kept me going was thinking you would come for me. Rescue me. I
clung to that but as the weeks past, I gave up hope. I realized
that you weren’t coming, didn’t care about me and eventually I
resigned myself to that. When you did show, I thought it was
another trick. A part of me still does. I keep expecting some of
your demon pals to show up and drag me back down there.”

“I won’t let
them, Grace. You’re safe with me.”

“Just like I
was before?” she sneered. “Spare me your promises.”

“I’m…sorry,” he
managed, knowing that his words, as usual, were inadequate.

She tilted her
head. “Are you Sam? Are you really?”

He didn’t know
what to say. They lapsed into another uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, without a backward glance, Sam stalked out into the
night.