Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (66 page)

An ungodly noise erupted from the sides of the Humvee as
sparks shot across the hood. Alex felt like he was in the mouth of a beast,
fighting to avoid being crushed by gigantic teeth. When the men thought their
eardrums might split, the Humvee collided with the sliding passenger door of
the minivan. They lurched forward as the Humvee slammed into the van and
started to spin sideways as it forced the minivan to the left. They fishtailed
to the far right of the shoulder and faced back toward the pileup as the Humvee
came to a rest.

“Holy shit,” said John.

“Fuck,” replied Alex. “If there were Holy Rollers in the
area, that would have gotten their attention. See if you can get this thing
started again and let’s get out of here.”

John cranked the lever to the right, but the Humvee just
emitted a low chunking noise. He tried again, and then a third and fourth time.
He slammed his fist on the dash and spit out the broken window.

“There,” said Alex.

From the other side of the pileup, and penetrating through the
jagged passage, a faint light grew. They heard the thick tire tread vibrating
off of the soft asphalt.

“Try it again, hurry!” Alex screamed.

John turned the crank and the Humvee came alive. He threw it
into gear and maneuvered behind the minivan, which now rested on its roof. John
eased up to the rear bumper of the minivan and gunned the accelerator. The Humvee
slid the van back into the pile amidst a shower of sparks. John gave it another
two bursts from the accelerator to make sure the van lodged in the opening. He
turned the wheel to the left and shifted again. Alex stuck his head out the
window. As the Humvee drove away, beams of light burst through the openings in
the wreckage like the flickering light inside a jack-o’-lantern.

Chapter
14

“Something has happened, Father.”

“What is it?”

“Father Thomas has woken up, but he seems disoriented.”

“Bring him to me.”

Father lit a cigar and tilted his chair back. Generators
rumbled from the boiler room as the electricity provided light to St. Michael’s.
In addition, the rickety boiler in the subbasement came to life. Soldiers from
the 165
^th
Infantry division had revived it after ten hours of
triage. The old piece of hissing pipe and steam bathed the stone church in
comforting warmth as the nights grew colder. Father paged through the reports,
noting the pockets of resistance while coaxing the sweet tobacco from his
blunt. He heard the two men coming down the hallway toward his office in the
back of the church.

“May God be with you, Father,” said Thomas.

Father waved the third priest away. The man pulled the door
as he stepped out of the room, but did not close it all the way.

“Sit, my son, and tell me what happened downstairs.”

“He reveals nothing.”

Father rubbed his chin and stared deep into the man’s vacant
and bloodshot eyes.

“Who reveals nothing?” he asked.

“John. He is gone now and so is the vet.”

“Yes, they took him to the vet’s office, to conduct tests.”

“No your holiness, they are gone. Lucifer spit his fire on
the road to salvation.”

Father summoned the other priest back into the room.

“Please make sure Father Thomas is cared for in the
infirmary. He is still having difficulty organizing his thoughts.”

The priest bent at the waist and escorted Thomas from the
office. The cigar sat in the ashtray, smoldering and sputtering. Father reached
over and snuffed the lit end. He walked out of the office and into the back of
the church. Priests knelt in the pews, saying their evening prayers. An armed
guard stood next to the main door, doing his best to stay awake.

“Soldier,” said Father.

“Yes sir,” he replied.

“Dispatch a team to the vet’s office and bring him and John
the Revelator back here.”

The young warrior spun on his heels and jumped into a Humvee.
Father watched it disappear down East Eighth Street.

Chapter
15

Jana crawled out from under the sink. The bandage wrapped
around the wound turned light red. She tugged at the moist cloth, hoping to
check on the cut. However, the sticky mess forced an eye-watering reluctance. Jana
lay facedown on the cold kitchen floor, waiting for the muscle spasms in her
legs to subside. She smelled fried chicken. The shattered glass from the broken
beer bottle scattered across the floor, and the beer dried into sticky patches.

The frigid room invited the crescent moon to light one
corner with a chilled glow. Jana’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of both
screen doors flapping in the night, hanging from their hinges.

She rubbed her calves and toes, working the blood back into
circulation. The cramps subsided, allowing her to stand. Jana walked upstairs
to her bedroom, navigating through the shattered remains of a nightstand and
lamp. She pulled a messenger bag from the closet and threw essentials into it. Inside
plain underwear, Jana wrapped a toothbrush, Band-Aids, deodorant, soap, and a
hairbrush. She changed into old jeans and a heavy sweatshirt while packing
more. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and cried.

Jana slid the shower door open and grabbed the waterproof
radio off the gooseneck of the shower. She rubbed a finger over the battery
compartment, hoping they still held a charge. Jana slid the dial to “on” and
turned the volume down. Even though John had left it tuned to his favorite FM
station, the radio bleated nothing but static. She turned it off and threw that
into her bag as well. If the electricity did not return, the radio might be her
only connection to the rest of the world – assuming it still existed.

Her shoulder supported the single strap of the messenger bag
as she slung it over her neck. Jana shoved her wallet and keys into the pockets
of her jeans.

Before setting out, she scavenged leftovers from the fridge,
devouring a cold plate of flounder and mashed potatoes. She glanced at the
kitchen counter and slid the butcher knife from its base. Jana measured the
length of the bag in her head and compared that to the knife in her hand. Rather
than risk the knife slicing through, she left it on the counter.

Jana decided to move out on foot, given the fact that she
had not seen anything but military vehicles on Mayfield Road. She did not want
to draw the attention of the men who came hunting her a few hours ago.

Outside, brittle, yellow leaves brushed her ankles and
swarmed near the privacy fence. Most of the trees banished their leaves to the
encroaching winter and the wind enjoyed knocking them about. A dog barked far
off in the distance. Jana heard none of the traffic that usually sped down
Mayfield at the end of the block. She looked at the dark windows of the
neighbor’s house, hoping nothing looked back. The stench of rotting garbage
displaced the usual fall fragrance of hot apple cider. She kept her back to the
house and stepped sideways down the driveway. Her injured leg bumped into the wall,
forcing her to stifle a scream of pain. Jana slowed her pace and scanned for
movement. From the lawn, she looked back at her house. She remembered John’s
glance as he pulled away. Jana fought down the conflicting emotions of loss and
infidelity. She hoped for an explanation from John someday, provided he was
still alive. She noticed a marking on the brick to the right of her front door,
near the bay window. Jana squinted and bent over toward the house. The red
pentagram glowered above the house numbers, 2913.

She scuttled down the sidewalk toward Mayfield. Doors swung
open in the November wind, slamming back and forth into their frames. White,
floating drapery escaped the windows, dancing in the night air. The ghosts of
suburbia left still cars in driveways and toys on lawns.

Jana realized she had forgotten a flashlight. She cursed
under her breath and started toward her front door when the sound of a Humvee moving
down Mayfield stopped her in her tracks. Jana jumped behind a hedgerow as the
headlights cut across Mayfield and pointed down Plainfield. The vehicle crept
along while a soldier on the passenger side passed a spotlight up and down each
house. The beam blasted the entire property with a blinding intensity. The
soldier swung the light from the window to the door. Once he located the
pentagram, the vehicle inched farther down the street to the next house. When
it got a block or two away , Jana spied another soldier aiming the blinding
light at empty houses on the other side of Plainfield.

Jana made it to the corner of Plainfield and Mayfield, which
sat bathed in absolute silence. On a normal evening, customers would be driving
through the ATM station at the bank. The drive-up window in the fast-food
restaurant across the street would be pulsing, voices squawking from the window
intercom over the rap and hip-hop bass lines of the customers. Across the
street, the Mayfield Street Bar would have its front door open to allow smokers
a place to spill out onto the sidewalk. But on this evening, Jana saw nothing. Out
of curiosity, Jana walked toward the ATM machine. The cold reflection of the
moon shone off the display screen. The cash dispenser and drive-up window
appeared deserted, as if everyone simply walked away.

Jana sprinted across the street to the fast-food restaurant,
where chairs and tables sat empty. The emergency floodlights flickered, and
shattered, outer glass doors spilled onto the sidewalk. Jana stepped through
the metal frame, stumbling over trays scattered across the floor, and then back into the night.

She scampered past more shops and businesses, all of which
sat utterly deserted. She saw cars at weird angles near the edge of the road. Jana
imagined drivers leaping from their vehicles and scrambling toward safety, away
from an unknown threat. She did not want to get close, for fear there might be
someone inside.

Jana stopped at the next intersection, where the traffic
lights swung in silent protest. A gas station on the opposite corner offered
Jana the hope of grabbing dry goods or snacks.

She walked past the gas pumps, which had spilled gallons
onto the ground when the world fell asleep. The aroma overwhelmed and
frightened her. As she got closer to the sliding doors, Jana saw shards of
glass covering the curb, and stacked pallets of windshield-washer fluid. More
glass crunched under her feet as she placed one foot inside the store. The
hairs came up on the back of her neck, and adrenaline flooded Jana’s system. Her
senses tingled, and as she turned back toward the abandoned gas pumps, she
caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A dark flash knocked her to the
ground. Jana’s head bounced off the pavement with a sick, dull thud. Her eyes
focused and then blurred on the dark fluorescent bulbs hanging underneath the
canopy. She heard voices, low and muttered, speaking to her and about her. They
swam in her ears and she was unable to decipher any of it while her brain
struggled to regain control. Before passing out, Jana heard a distinct voice.

“Get her inside before they come back,” slid into her ears
as she succumbed to the encroaching concussion.

Chapter
16

Route 480 fanned out in front of the Humvee in a ribbon of
gray. Alex and John brushed the broken glass from their clothes while
exchanging weary smiles.

“Why are you alive?” John asked.

“What?”

“Why are you alive? Why didn’t the Covenant gun you down
like the rest?”

Alex cocked his head to one side, peering into the silvery
guardrail speeding past.

“Because they needed me.”

“Are you telling me they had no medical support other than a
vet?”

John regretted the comment as soon as it left his mouth.

“You really are an asshole,” said Alex.

“I’m sorry, it didn’t come out right.”

“How long until we reach State Road?”

John looked down at his watch to calculate the time and
distance.

“Probably twenty or twenty-five minutes, unless we hit
another roadblock.

“That should be enough time.”

“Enough time for what?” John asked again.

“Time for me to tell you what happened to me, provided you
want to know.”

“You’ve got a captive audience.”

Alex sat up and stared out of the front of the Humvee as he
spoke.

“My wife said shit was going down in Cleveland. We live out
in Chesterland, so I didn’t pay as much attention to it as I shoulda. She saw
something on the news about a possible order to martial law because of a terrorist
threat. I stood in front of the tube, watching the dolts on the local
broadcast. They had grainy cell-phone video of troops knocking doors down in
the poor neighborhoods. No surprise to me that they started there. I got pissed
and shut the TV off. I get so tired of it blaring and babbling constantly.

“I went downstairs to help get the kids into their pajamas. We
heard sirens off in the distance, nothing out of the ordinary. After we had
them down for the night, I picked up a Bill Bryson novel, hoping to laugh
myself to sleep. I think my wife was already in bed, but I can’t quite
remember. Anyway, I heard what I thought was thunder, which was very odd for
November. It seemed to get louder and the noise became more frequent. Julie
came down to the living room and asked me if I had heard it. I think at that
moment we both knew something wasn’t right.

“She flipped the TV back on. There was nothing but snow on
every channel. We have satellite TV, so I thought the storm was messing with
the reception, you know? Julie went upstairs and turned on the TV with the old
rabbit ears. Again, nothing.

“I started getting worried, so I went out to my truck. I
turned the key and turned the radio on. At first I thought one of the kids had
messed with the tuner, but every one of my presets generated the same white
noise, as if the stations had disappeared.”