Tribulation (13 page)

He could hear
the younger man gurgling on his blade, struggling to free himself.
He managed to fire his rifle but it was not even pointed in Sam’s
direction and passed harmlessly off to one side. The bigger man was
face-to-face with him. Sam could see the disbelief and horror on
his face and was glad. He had a special bone to pick with these
two, having watched them for the last few nights.

What they had
done was unspeakable. Evil. If Sam had given them the opportunity,
they would’ve probably tried to justify it by saying that their
hunger drove them to it. That only the strongest survived and it
was their right as the dominant ones to determine the fate of those
beneath them. Regardless of their argument, they were wrong. So
very wrong. To prey upon other humans and not just prey upon them.
To feed upon them. It was abhorrent. Just the thought of it made
Sam want to be sick and he was so very happy to put an end to
them.

He smiled into
the fat man’s face even as the glow of life faded from his eyes,
then shoved the disgusting copse off his blade. At the same time,
he withdrew his shorter blade from the younger man’s neck with a
quick jerk of his hand. The man toppled to the ground clutching his
neck, choking on his own life blood as it spurted out between his
fingers.

Every single
human who was part of this group deserved to die for what they had
done. They may not have been directly responsible for the killing,
butchering and cooking like these two, but they were certainly
guilty of partaking in the product of these labors. They would pay
for their sins. Sam would make them pay. After all, wasn’t this the
task that Gabriel had entrusted to him? To protect and save the
innocents.

A part of him
wanted to watch the younger man die, but that was his anger
talking. He couldn’t afford to get distracted now. He had a job to
do. Focused now, he became aware of the confused shouts all around
him. He sensed that the cannibalistic humans were all around him.
They weren’t sure where he was exactly but they were narrowing it
down. He didn’t have long.

The camping
stove upon which the two chefs had been cooking was still alight.
Sam kicked the cauldron with its horrifying contents off the stove,
careful to avoid being splashed. Moving quickly, he sheathed both
swords, turned off the stove and disconnected it from the large gas
cylinder standing nearby. He toppled the cylinder onto its side,
closed his eyes for a moment to determine the proximity of most of
the humans and then kicked the cylinder towards them. Just before
the rolling cylinder disappeared from his sight beneath one of the
makeshift sheets that was used as a room dividers, he grabbed the
rifle lying on the ground, sighted it quickly and pulled the
trigger.

The outcome was
predictable and impressive. A fireball erupted outwards as the tank
exploded, immediately setting fire to the nearby sheet. Sam didn’t
have to use his enhanced senses to know the consternation this
caused. He could hear someone screaming and knew that every armed
human was now making for the cause of the disruption. As
distractions went, it was a simple but highly effective one.

Confident that
it would keep them busy for a few moments, he dropped the rifle and
sprinted for the wall again, drawing his swords as he moved. Sam
found the wall without trouble and moved along it rapidly. He hit
the corner, emerged from behind another sheet and suddenly found
himself face to face with the cage. The occupants failed to note
his appearance, along with the two guards, as every single face was
looking in the direction of the explosion.

It was almost
too easy. Sam concentrated and hurtled towards the guards, a
deathly blur. Within moments, they were both lying at his feet,
blood pooling underneath them, dead before they even knew something
was upon them. He darted towards the door, careful not to touch it
directly, sensing the iron of which it was composed. A thick steel
chain secured the door to one of the ribs of the cage. Sheathing
the Wakizashi at his hip, he thrust his Katana through the loop,
using it as a lever in an attempt to break the chain. He’d
rehearsed this previously knowing what the cage was secured with,
but had misjudged the thickness of the chain. This one was much
thicker than the one he’d practiced with. A normal Katana would
have snapped under the strain - but his was not a normal Katana. It
was made of a dense iron from a meteorite and forged specifically
for him, much stronger and heavier than a regular steel Katana. He
used it as a pry bar.

Almost
unnoticed, the prisoners were edging backwards, away from the bars
and Sam, unsure exactly what liberty their erstwhile rescuer was
offering. Sam paid them no heed as he strained against the chain.
He had other things to worry about. Behind him, he could tell that
the fire caused by the exploding gas cylinder was spreading. That
in itself was gratifying but now, he sensed a more determined mind,
clearer than the others, less dominated by fear. Someone was taking
command of the situation and without a doubt about to send some
more guards to check on the prisoners. Sam had no more than a
couple of minutes before he was discovered. At most.

The chain
creaked ominously but would not give. Sam leant on the Katana,
using his considerable power and weight. Desperation lent him even
more strength. Sweat poured from his brow as he became oblivious to
everything else but the chain. Doubts surged through his mind. He
hadn’t counted on the chain being this thick. Maybe he wouldn’t be
able to break it. What then? He could hardly leave these poor souls
to the terrible fate that awaited them. He felt his fears leak out,
breaking the tight control of his mind, but for once he didn’t
care. All he cared about was freeing these people.

The chain
creaked again and then without warning, broke apart. Links flew in
every direction and Sam cried out in fierce pleasure. He yanked
open the door with his free hand, heedless of the burning sensation
as his hand made contact with the cold iron. Inside, the prisoners
stood motionless. Every one of them had got to their feet. At
first, Sam thought they were staring at him in dumbfounded shock
but then he saw that the angle of their gazes was over his
shoulder, behind him. It was only then that he realized his
mistake. He’d been too busy concentrating on removing the chain,
oblivious to the danger.

Slowly he
turned. Standing several feet away, safely out of sword reach, were
about ten men, all armed with either rifles or shotguns. Currently,
all ten weapons were leveled at Sam.

Sam calculated
the odds. He already had one sword out. In the time it would take
him to cross the distance between them, he would have his other one
ready. He calculated that he might be able to take out five or six
of them before their overwhelming numbers made the end result
inevitable. They would get him with their iron shells and even he
wouldn’t be able to survive.

Sam smiled
grimly and prepared to do just that. He’d go down fighting and take
as many of these bastards with him. As if sensing his resolve, the
ten men in front of him tightened the fingers around the triggers
of their guns. Sam sensed the movement and edged his hand ever so
slightly towards his Wakizashi.

And then
everything changed.

The wall
directly over his left shoulder exploded in flames and rubble. Like
everyone else in the room, Sam flinched. When he looked up, he
found himself staring at something they wouldn’t have expected. Not
here. Not now. Not ever.

The eight foot
dog, its impenetrable coat ablaze, its eyes molten fire – towered
just a few feet from Sam.

‘It’s a
Hellhound!’ hissed one of the prisoners, horrified. Some of the
others started to mewl in terror.

As if on cue,
the great demon threw back its massive head and howled – a sound so
dreadful that it chilled the blood and even sent an involuntary
shiver of terror racing down Sam’s back. It shut its jaws with an
audible click, the terrible sound thankfully fading. The Hellhound
lowered its head once again and cast around as if looking for
something. Or someone.

Finally, it
found who it was looking for.

The black eyes
of Sam and the red eyes of Yeth locked for a moment. For a moment,
just a moment, Sam could’ve sworn that his Hellhound winked at
him.

Respite

“…
and so that all
will be condemned who have not believed the truth but have
delighted in wickedness.”
2 Thessalonians 2:12

O
ne of the men facing Sam stood slightly in front of
the others; very tall, probably at least as tall as Sam but lean,
almost emaciated. He had thick grey hair and a matching beard.
Through it, Sam could see a crooked smile forming as the
implications of the demons arrival sank in. Sam assumed he was the
leader.

“Lay down your
weapons and we won’t give you to the beast,” said the leader in an
authoritative voice that carried easily through the large space. It
was the voice of a man accustomed to others doing as they were
told. “Clearly, you are outmatched.” He gestured towards his
followers and then to the flaming Hellhound.

Sam cleared his
throat. “I’d say you were outmatched. I suggest you lay down your
weapons and I’ll kill you quickly. If you don’t …” Sam sighed
theatrically, “… then things will go very badly for you. Don’t say
I didn’t warn you.”

“Who are you to
warn us?” sneered the man.

Sam met the
man’s eye. “Yeah, you’re pretty tough when you have your guns and
your demons to support you. Tough enough to capture starving
teenagers and use them for your own ends. You will pay for what
you’ve done here.”

The leader’s
eyes were bugging out, in complete disbelief that someone in Sam’s
position would have the audacity to speak to him in this manner.
With an effort, he composed himself and turned to the
Hellhound.

“Destroy him,
mighty demon. Take him to Hell where he shall suffer for eternity
for his crimes against our Master.” The man’s expression was that
of someone in the midst of religious fervor, and the last few words
came out in an excited falsetto.

Yeth had not
moved since his explosive entrance. He did so now, turning in Sam’s
direction and taking a leisurely stride towards him. The captives
hurriedly shrank back within their cage to avoid the intense heat
and spits of fire that leapt from its coat. Sam turned to meet its
advance. When the Hellhound was so close Sam could’ve reached out
and stroked its fiery nose, it stopped. Again, they locked gazes
for a moment, Sam having to stretch his neck upwards. It was a
frozen tableau for the barest of moments. Neither Sam nor the great
beast moved. The demon worshippers were collectively holding their
breath, their pent up excitement about to explode. Those in the
cage huddled in terror.

The Hellhound
turned towards those that followed and worshipped its kind. Then
Yeth opened his mouth. A torrent of fire, hotter than a furnace,
surged out, enough to instantly ignite and kill the three demon
worshippers closest to it – including the leader. The others
screamed in terror and pain; fire poured down upon them as the
great head left and right. Some on the fringes managed to partly
avoid the deathly fire, trying to run even as they battled their
flaming clothes. By that point, it was too late. Sam was already
amongst them, his swords darting in and out as he dispatched the
remainder with ruthless efficiency.

When it was
over, the pitted and smoking concrete floor was covered with
burning copses. Sam strode out of the flames, idly patting out his
own burning clothes. He walked up to where the Hellhound waited and
a rare genuine smile crossed his lips. “Thank you,” he said.

Yeth merely
dipped his mighty head slightly in acknowledgement.

“I don’t know
how you knew I was in trouble, but I think you just saved me.”

It marked a new
chapter in their relationship. He patted the side of the great
demon, ignoring the flames. He was still surprised at how much Yeth
had grown in the time they had known each other. He had been there
at Yeth’s ‘birth’ after all – back when the Hellhound was still -
for lack of a better word – a puppy. It had been three years since
then, and in those three years, Yeth had never, never, arrived
unannounced or uncalled for. “How did you know I was in
trouble?”

The rough,
sibilant voice sounded in his head. Sensed it. Felt your need.

Unconsciously,
Sam had reached out to his familiar. A familiar was what magicians
of old had once referred to the animals that served them. He didn’t
know how else to categorize their relationship, but Sam knew one
thing for sure. Since Yeth had come along, he certainly felt less
lonely.

Go now.

“Sure. You go
now. Again - thank you.” Sam stretched up and patted Yeth on the
head, the great demon lowering his mighty skull obligingly so Sam
could reach. Sam’s hand was completely unharmed by the demon’s
flaming aura. Funny how he still spoke aloud to the demon, even
when it was unnecessary. He could easily communicate the same way
that Yeth communicated with him, but it somehow just felt better
this way. More normal. Like he was speaking to another person.

Sam was about
to say more, when the sound of gunfire intruded. Sam hadn’t noticed
before, but now that the warehouse was all but silent, the gunfire
was horrendously loud. Sparks flew off Yeth’s hide, barely
troubling the demon. Instinctively, he knew that the rounds being
fired were iron. Experience had taught him that Hellhounds were
almost immune to physical damage – even from iron. Sam would not be
so lucky.

Swiftly, he
took shelter behind Yeth and peered cautiously around one of the
Hellhound’s great forelegs. Above the level of his eyes, on the
catwalk that Sam had used to gain entry to this place, stood a man.
In his hands was a machinegun, spitting out round after round in
the direction ogrin f Sam and the Hellhound. Clearly, they hadn’t
accounted for all the demon worshippers.