Purge: Book Three: Last Days Trilogy (11 page)

Seville, Ohio

Kyle smoked a cigarette. And enjoyed it, too. There weren’t many left, so he savored each one. With a look of “I don’t know what to tell you,” he peered to the men who sat patiently in the backyard. Until Michael returned, and then a mumble of voices erupted in question.

Kyle stood up. “Any luck?”

Buzz rushed over. “What’s going on?”

Michael dropped his voice to a whisper. “The message that I received was that Reggie was in trouble. She’s fine now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kyle asked. “Who gave you this message?”

Michael only looked at him.

“Should we get a search party?” Buzz asked.

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Kyle.

“No,” Michael responded. “I was merely told she was fine, and would return.”

“If she was in trouble, Michael, why couldn’t you find her?” Kyle asked.

“I tried. I flew north, south. As I headed west, I received the message.”

“But she’s fine?” Kyle continued.

“As I am told.”

Kyle nodded. “Okay. Well, you had better talk to these guys. They’ve been waiting.”

“I will have to explain again when Reggie returns.”

“Then you’ll have to do that. But these guys are anxious to know about this first battle. They can’t prepare for something they don’t know anything about.”

Buzz added, “And they’re worried that it’s too soon.”

“I understand.” Taking in a deep breath, Michael walked further into the yard. “Reggie will return shortly. For now, though, even in her absence, I will explain our first engagement. Please be seated. All of you.” He waited until Buzz had joined the seated men, and then began. “The prison that we go to tomorrow is forty miles from here. Behind the prison walls remain only seventeen. They survive because of their strength, faith, and prayers. Though a small number, we need them in our battle. But keep in mind, they remain because Devante chooses not to kill them. They... are bait.” Michael lowered his voice. “They cannot enter these walls, therefore they must lure us out.”

From behind him, on the porch, Kyle called out. “So why are we going right into his trap?”

“Because every person that we save is one more soldier. Every battle we fight is one step closer to the final battle. We go to free our people, and to begin the elimination of Lucifer’s army. We don’t need many men to end this. All it takes is one. One person to kill Devante, and the battle is over. But to do so, we must reach him.”

Kyle understood. “And right now reaching him is pretty impossible. So we remove his wall of protection brick by brick, and we make him vulnerable.”

“Exactly,” Michael said. “We are few. They are many. His victory is easier than ours. So make no mistake...” Michael looked out to the faces. “Some of you will not return. Some of you will succumb to the battle.”

It happened so fast Kyle couldn’t react. The porch door opened with a bang. Marcus stormed out with a baseball bat, called Michael’s name, and then struck him hard in the face.

“Holy shit!” Kyle tossed his cigarette and dove from the porch.

Michael’s head turned, only to receive another strike.

Eliza screamed when she walked out. “Marcus! Stop!”

Michael snatched the bat from Marcus’ grip. Kyle thought he had a hold on him, but Marcus slipped away and charged shoulder-first into Michael’s midsection.

Buzz and his men rose to their feet, but no one attempted to halt the confrontation. Michael defended more than fought. No sooner did he get up than Marcus dove into him again, slamming his fist into Michael’s ribs.

Reggie flew from the house, crying out, “Marcus no! What are you doing?” She broke through, and grabbed him. “Stop. Stop it!” It took her entire weight to pull him back.

A moment passed. Kyle stepped in. “What in the hell is going on!?”

Michael brought his fingers to the corner of his mouth, then peered at his hand. “I bleed.”

“Good!” Marcus yelled. “That means you’re no better than the rest of us!”

Eliza, frantic, broke through. “Sweet Lord, Marcus. What has gotten into you?”

Marcus caught his breath. “This afternoon… Reggie was attacked. Attacked by someone who looked like him.” He pointed at Michael.

Reggie stepped forward. “And I told you, Marcus, it wasn’t Michael.”

Michael shook his head. “I wouldn’t hurt Reggie. It was not I.”

“Does it matter!?” Marcus blasted. “Does it!?”

“Yes!” Reggie answered.

“No! No!” Marcus took a step back. “It doesn’t matter whether it was him or not. It happened because of Michael. All three times, Reg. The blood on the lips, the dream, today… Devante was able to get to you because of Michael’s fixation with you.”

“So you’re striking out against him?”

“Damn right,” Marcus said. “I’m pissed. I’m pissed that you got hurt. And it could have been worse.”

Reggie sighed and lowered her voice. “Marcus. It wasn’t Michael who hurt me. Do you really think attacking him is the answer?”

Michael intervened. “Yes, Marcus, you must put your anger to good use and…”

“Enough!” Marcus yelled. “I don’t need you to tell me where to put my anger. What I need you to do is…” he calmed down some. “Do your job. Do what you came to do, then just go back to where you came from. And do it soon.” Shaking his head, Marcus turned and walked into the house, leaving behind a shocked silence.

Mt. Vernon, IL

A small afternoon campfire blazed for no other purpose but Devante’s visual pleasure. He sat on the ground, alone, arms draped over his knees as he stared with a sick smile into the flames.

A foot stomped down before him, scuffing a cloud of dust into Devante’s face.

Devante waved his hand to clear the dust, and rose slowly to his feet. “Are you upset…” he peered down at James. “…Little man? And have resorted to stomping your feet?”

“I believe I just kicked dirt in your face. Symbolic of your blindness.”

“Do not come into my camp with your arrogance. You are distressed because your faithful divide.”

“If they divide, it is because of your interference,” James said.

“If they divide, it is because they lack strength and conviction. They are protected, yet they leave their protection. You know as well as I do, if they leave their walls… they are fair game. If they let one of us in…” he chuckled. “They are fair game.”

“Like you play fair.”

“Only you would bring up fairness. You try to shake me. It will not work. I grow stronger the weaker your people become… and they are weak by nature. You place your trust in them. But they will fail you. Every day, more and more of your people fall to me. Every day you lose. So, do not speak to me about blindness…
James
.” Devante kicked out his foot, sending a cloud of dirt and smoke onto James. “When you are the one who is blind.”

Kingston, AL

Seventeen year-old Willis Atkinson ran. Skinny, tall, he moved like the wind down the main street of the town. The rubber soles of his tennis shoes flapped against the pavement.

“Father Davis!” he screamed. “Father Davis!” Over and over he cried, holding out his hand as he made his way to the corner church.

In the back room behind the altar, Fr. Davis listened to Kyle Stevens’ radio broadcast. He had just finished informing Kyle of the ten men on their way to Seville to aid in the battle. It was time for his country-music signoff. Fr. Davis lowered the headphones, and cocked his head at the sound of Willis’ voice.

“Father Davis!”

A double bang of doors brought Fr. Davis to his feet. He left the back room and walked the small hallway to the side altar entrance. Just as he began to genuflect, Willis reached the altar, out of breath.

“Father Davis.” He held out his hand.

A black tar was smeared across the young man’s hand. Fr. Davis winced when he brought it closer for a look. “Where…?”

“It’s seeping up from the ground. The cracks in the street. Everywhere,” Willis said.

Fr. Davis dropped the boy’s hand. “A deceiver has entered our camp. We have to weed out the deceiver.”

“How?”

“By getting everyone into the church. The deceiver will be unable to cross the threshold. Hurry, Willis, ring the bells! Ring them now!”

Willis sped from the altar to the back of the church. Fr. Davis limped as fast as he could down the aisle. By the time he reached the front foyer doors, the church bells began to ring. Loud, continuous, like a warning. Fr. Davis pushed the front door and jammed it open using a block. “Come on!” he beckoned. “Come on!”

Suddenly the ringing bells went sour, emitting a painful sound. And the moment people appeared in the streets, the ground began to shake.

“Hurry!” Fr. Davis called. “Into the church. Hurry!”

The earth shook violently. Fr. Davis tried to stand his ground, waving in the people as they passed them into the sanctuary. One by one, confused, they ran inside.

As the last person ran past, Fr. Davis kicked the block on the door.

“Wait!” A woman fled from the church.

“Back inside!” he yelled.

“I can’t. Josh…” The woman cried frantically. “My son. I thought my husband had him, but he doesn’t. My son is out there.”

Fr. Davis moved her back. “Hold the door, I’ll find him.”

Rapidly, she nodded, then her eyes widened and she smiled. “Josh.”

Fr. Davis turned to see the blond three-year old running across the empty, shaking street. “Stay here, I’ll get him,” he said.

A hundred feet away, Josh stopped. He placed his finger in his mouth and began to cry.

“Josh!” Fr. Davis called and hurried as fast as his disabled body could move. “Come to me!” He opened his arms wide in invitation.

Josh smiled brightly. But h
HH
is little legs had charged only two steps when a huge arm shot out of the pavement. Vein-strewn, reddish, the bony fingers snatched the boy, trapping him in the pocket of its hand.

The mother screamed as a fiery gully seared through the ground.

His eyes focused on the child, who could be seen above the flames, Fr. Davis raced closer to the inferno. “Hold on, Josh!”

“I’ll get him!” A man’s voice cried out in the distance.

Fr. Davis spotted him and felt a wave of relief. He could see the younger man making his way. “I’ll get him.” Like a well-trained athlete, the man leapt toward the arm, and in a single motion ripped the boy from the grip of the hand. He raised Josh high above his head like a trophy.

“Thank God.” Fr. Davis closed his eyes. When he opened them, the man still held Josh. “Bring him here.”

One step. One step was all the man took, and that was toward the flames. With a sadistic gleam, he threw the boy into the pit of hell.

“No!” Fr. Davis, arms reaching, raced toward the fire. Just as he arrived, the ground stopped shaking, the fire sucked in, and then it happened.

They shot forth out of the ravine. Multitudes of demonlings soared through the air like a flock of bats. Fr. Davis had no choice but to turn back and run to the church. The demonlings dove and pecked at him, taunting.

He blasted into the church and pulled the door closed. The hysterical cries within the foyer couldn’t drown the shrill screams of the demonlings outside. With the aid of four other men, Fr. Davis held tight to the trembling door. Blood dripped down his face, mixing with tears, as he closed his eyes and prayed the “Our Father.”

Seville, Ohio

The end of Kyle’s mid-day broadcast brought an air of desolation. The initial “break of silence” response from Fr. Davis had been like a starting gun, serving as an “all clear” signal for others. It seemed every time Kyle was on the air, another camp let him know of their existence and willingness to help. The veil of fear was being lifted, though Kyle worried the attack on Fr. Davis’ camp would send the faithful back into hiding. Fr. Davis was despondent when he was told of what happened to his town, but not fatally so. And that was a good thing. In fact, he sounded more determined than ever to fight. He said to Kyle, “My people can’t stay here; where do you want us to go?”

Kyle sent him north to another town.

But the recent attack in Alabama inspired Kyle to reiterate to his listeners. Sounding like some born-again evangelist, he declared, “Listen people, you have got to be aware of the deceivers in your camp. You know how to weed them out; do it daily if you must.”

Kyle felt bad for Michael. But he wasn’t just partial to the angel, he felt bad for all parties involved. He would have chalked it up to the mounting tension before the battle, but there wasn’t really any time for tension to mount. Plain and simple, Devante was finding a way “in” and, whether they wanted to admit it or not, they were playing right into his plan.

Reggie was doing well, but she didn’t know how to handle the situation yet, so she just avoided dealing with it. She did, however, take time to tell Marcus that she wasn’t mad at him, and understood why he did what he did. But that was all she said. She disappeared to train with Herbie and hadn’t spoken to Michael or Marcus since.

Kyle was certain that Michael held no grudges. He was very forgiving. The problem was, Marcus wasn’t apologizing.

From his broadcast room, Kyle could hear all that transpired in the kitchen. He listened as Eliza scolded Marcus like the mother she was, and Aunt Rose taunted. Seth seemed to be ignoring it all. When Kyle realized Marcus was finally alone, sulking, most likely, he decided to take advantage.

Entering the kitchen with an exhaled, “Well…,” Kyle walked to the table. “That certainly was an interesting broadcast.”

Writing in a notebook, Marcus briefly raised his eyes, then returned to his paper. “How is Fr. Davis doing since the attack?”

“Doing.” Kyle edged his seat closer. “And how are you since your attack?”

Again, Marcus raised his eyes. “Doing.”

“Are you taking notes on how to successfully clobber an angel with a baseball bat?”

Marcus slammed the notebook. “Go on. Say it. I’ve been waiting.”

“Don’t give me attitude.” Kyle waved a finger. “I just wanna tell you that it ain’t worth getting like this. You have to put this behind you and move on. We start fighting tomorrow, Marcus. This is war. Now, I understand what your thinking is.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

“Yes.” Kyle nodded. “But hating the person that is going to ensure our survival is not the way to do it.”

“And why is that?” Marcus asked. “Why do we need Michael?”

“Because we, as man, as a whole, screwed up. You know it. Plus, you know, he’s an expert. Marcus…” Kyle laid his hand over Marcus’. “This has to be tough all the way around for you. You’re still mourning over the loss of your family. You had to give up Reggie. The world is falling apart, and I’m not saying you’re to blame.”

Marcus looked away.

“Are you sure it’s Reggie’s vulnerability with Michael that makes you so mad?”

“Yes,” Marcus said, adamant. “If he wasn’t so wrapped up in her, Reggie would have been suspicious the moment the imposter made a move. She wasn’t because Michael keeps making moves on her, so Reggie was open to trusting him, and therefore open to getting hurt.”

“Again, I understand that,” Kyle said. “And you’re positive that it doesn’t have a lot to do with Michael and Reggie… period?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, just checking. That being said, why don’t you make amends with Michael? Put this behind you.”

“I can’t.” Marcus stood. “I don’t know why, but I just can’t. Not yet.” He walked from the room.

Kyle stayed for a moment and then followed Marcus. He wasn’t giving up. There wasn’t much time left to fix this.

Indianapolis, Indiana

Todd went to the registration desk of the empty hotel and rang the service bell. “Hello? Hel-loo?”

“Will you please... stop that?” Lillian plopped on a sofa.

“You aren’t very nice.” Todd made his way over to her. “Hey, did I show you the picture I drew of you?”

“I’m not sure I want to see it.”

He sat on the sofa across from her and pulled a sketchpad from his knapsack. With a snicker, Todd flipped through the pages and handed it to her.

“Swell.” She looked at the picture of Medusa and tossed it back. “Funny.”

“I thought I captured the evil in you.”

“Why do you say I’m evil?” Lillian asked.

“For starters, good-hearted people don’t follow the devil around. Second, you were black-hearted before Devante. You packed up and left your kid. Without telling.”

“I told,” Lillian spoke snidely. “I told that
man
I was married to.”

“But you didn’t tell your kid.”

“Because she was a child.”

“But you didn’t like her. Why spare her feelings? Why
did
you leave?”

“I hated my life. I hated my daughter. I could have lived with Kyle, less emotions or not, but my life went downhill after Reggie was born.”

“Must have been pretty bad. Was, like, your daughter a terror?”

“No. I just didn’t love her. To me, she was all of my dreams gone up in smoke. I was a nurse in a small town. I had a good job in a hospital. Did well. Then I lost my job because I helped some woman who didn’t have insurance. The only job I could get was at an indigent clinic east of Seville. I hated it. Reggie and that boy were inseparable. I knew it would never be better, that janitor George would be Kyle’s buddy and Eliza would want to bake with me.” She huffed in disgust. “I also knew my daughter would grow up to marry that boy, and that he’d be nothing more than a janitor himself.”

Todd snickered.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, like… don’t know who that boy grew up to be?”

“No. And I couldn’t care less.”

Todd inched his way closer to Lillian. “That boy created Devante.”

“Oh, who cares?”

Todd shuddered. “Man, you’re cold. I think your daughter’s gonna hate you.”

“I am confident she’ll welcome me.”

“What makes you so sure? You left her.”

“Once an optimist, always an optimist,” Lillian said. “Reggie was two cents shy of an idiot her whole life. I doubt that she’s changed.”

Fort Knox, KY

There was something odd about the concrete bedroom. Confused, Devante felt the cold walls and peered around. In his hand, he held a sheet of paper. He leaned over the cot and slammed the paper to the wall, it adhered. He stepped back, arms folded, and stared at the sketch of Reggie.

Leonard knocked once on the open door and entered. “Is everything okay?”

Still eyeing the sketch, Devante nodded. “What is this place?”

“You said your life is vital in ending this. To keep you protected, this is the safest place I know. They can’t get in.” Leonard inched toward him. “Wanted to let you know, we picked up more of Kyle Stevens’ broadcast and were able to pinpoint more camps for the other side.”

“That is good. Let’s send out deceivers, infiltrate the camps and bring them down.”

“You know… Seville is really important.”

“That is why we are sending Todd and Lillian there.”

“Yeah, but this holy team is essential as well. I think it was a stroke of brilliance going after Reggie. If you can keep…”

“No,” Devante said strongly. “We will not go after Regina again.”

“But if we get her, take her out or pull her from the angel, we…”

“I said…” Devante glared at Leonard. “No! She has served her part. Trust me.” He returned to the sketch.

“I’m gonna assume you want to back off her for the same reason you decided to hang her picture on your wall.”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask what that is?”

“It frustrates me, for I have no answer. She has always pulled at me. More so now. She serves another purpose for me…” Devante ran a finger over the sketch. “A bigger purpose. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Seville, Ohio

The training fields had quieted. The men had stopped working for the evening, but the usual sounds of happy relaxation didn’t flow across the Stevens’ property on this night. It was calm, surreal.

On the edge of the property, Michael sat on a tree stump, sword perched beside him, head hung low, his hands folded in prayer.

The man they called James stood ten feet behind him. He watched the angel for a while before saying anything. “You do realize,” James said. “This is a narrative moment.”

Michael spun, stood, and then bowed his head. “James.”

“How are you, Michael?”

“I am… I am…” he sighed. “Not well.”

“I’m sorry.” James neared him.

“How is this happening?”

“No one said war was fair. How much slaughter and deceit was there for the first battle? This is no different.”

“Marcus despises me.”

“And he clocked you pretty well, too. But… it’s not your relationship with Marcus that is important. It’s what transpires between you and Reggie.”

“She will not speak to me.”

“It’s out of loyalty to Marcus. She will, though.”

“When?”

“Soon. And Michael… no.” James shook his head. “We will not let you quit. I’m kind of…” James winked. “A little shocked that you would want to back out so easily.”

“I don’t. But I do not want my presence to be a hindrance.”

“To be honest, if I believed it was a hindrance, I would have removed you myself.”

Michael nodded in gratitude.

“I just wanted to check on your prayer. Quit asking God to take you home.”

“I will not bother God with that any further.” Michael smiled.

“Good. I’ll leave you be.” He reached out and gave a swat to Michael’s back before turning.

“James?”

James stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

“I respect Marcus. I like him. I wish for him to respect and like me again. Will he?”

James paused for a moment. “No. But this is good. Because he despises you, he will fight stronger, and that is what we need. Goodnight, Michael.” James turned and walked on.

Michael watched James until he disappeared, and then Michael made his way back to the tree stump and sat down. After a few minutes, he heard the scuffling of feet, and looked over his shoulder.

Reggie was there.

Michael stood.

“Is this a private thing, or can I join you?”

“Please.” Michael reached out his hand. His fingers trembled as they hovered in the distance between them.

Reggie took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you apologize?”

“Because I haven’t been fair,” Reggie said. “I’ve been avoiding you all day. I don’t blame you for what happened. I’m not mad at you. Just like I don’t blame Marcus for what he did. And I don’t want you to be mad at him.”

“I’m not. He defends you.”

“Yes. And I love him for it. But the only reason I stayed away from you is, I had to get my head straight.”

“Did you succeed?”

Reggie smiled. “Yeah.”

“And does your mind trust me again?”

“Yes. I realize what has been happening. And it no longer scares me away from you; it makes me want to fight them even harder.”

“Ah,” Michael grinned. “If we possess the will… together we are mighty.”

“And one.”

Michael swallowed. “Are we? Are we as one?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Even with Marcus unpleased with me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he will speak to me soon?” Michael asked.

“Um…” Reggie paused. “Probably not. He looks at this situation a little differently.”

“James has said that…”

“Stop.” Reggie held up her hand. “Who is this James? Really, he needs to mind his own goddamn…”

“Reggie!” Michael scolded.

“No! He’s butting in where he doesn’t belong,”

“He is…”

A rush of static came from Reggie’s walkie-talkie.

“Reggie.” It was Marcus.