The Wrath of Jeremy (16 page)

Jeremy questioned, “Isn’t your name
Victor?”

“I told you not to ever call me that again,
Christopher, my name is Victor now,” he yelled out.

“Well, don’t call me Christopher then, my
name is Curtis now!”

“You started it first, you called—” Victor
yelled before Curtis hit him over the head.

“Just drop it, Victor!”

“Well anyway, Jastian didn’t tell us anything
about not shooting them, he just said to keep them here until—”
said Victor, being interrupted by Jeremy.

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell is going
on, but I’m getting out of here. I’ll leave you and Christopher
alone,” Jeremy screamed. He then darted for the door.

“Don’t you ever call us by those names again,
my name to you is ‘Curtis’!” Curtis ran up to Jeremy and hit him
across the face. “And you, I don’t ever want you calling me that
name again either,” Curtis added, hitting Victor on the head
again.

“We already had this argument, you asshole!”
yelled Victor, hitting Curtis in the face. During the fight that
was as if Curtis and Victor were two kids, fighting over nothing,
the cross began to shake in Jeremy’s pants. Victor noticed Jeremy
staring down at his pants, so he asked suspiciously, “What do you
have in your pants?” Victor stopped arguing with Curtis and walked
quickly up to Jeremy. He reached inside of his pants and pulled out
the cross. Curtis walked up to Victor, looked over Victor’s
shoulders and noticed the stained blood marks on the statue’s right
hand and feet.

“My God, it has already begun—drop that!”
Curtis screamed, with Victor’s finger getting pricked by the sharp
end of the cross. As he dropped it on the floor, Victor noticed his
own blood mark on Jesus’s left hand while sucking his pricked
finger. “Oh shit,” shouted Curtis, noticing the blood marks on the
feet and right and left hands of Jesus beginning to glow. Jeremy
picked up the cross and tried to prick his finger against the sharp
end of it, but it wouldn’t pierce his flesh. Wondering why his
finger wasn’t being pricked by it, he looked at Curtis and noticed
the fear in his eyes as he stared at the cross. It was like the
cross was a gun, a bomb to Curtis’s sight. So, Jeremy threw the
cross at Curtis, and he reached out to stop it from hitting his
face. As Curtis reached out his left hand, the cross hit it and
caused his finger to also be pricked. He looked down at the cross
as it fell to the cold, white floor and noticed his own blood on
the statue’s thorns. Curtis turned his head to Jeremy, and fixed
his eyes levelly with Jeremy’s own, and shouted, “Now, look what
you’ve done. We have to get out of here now!”

Suddenly, Grewsal shook, first lightly, and
then rapidly, the floors pulling up from their places and shooting
concrete everywhere. The walls cracked slowly and the light
fixtures fell to the ground. “It doesn’t mean anything, they still
have to retrieve the maps, the Wrath isn’t happening yet, Curtis,”
said Victor, trying to calm down Curtis.

“I know, but in Jastian’s Testament, it
states that this is the first sign of the Wrath. Face it, Victor,
this building is going to collapse,” Curtis screamed.

Confusion, even greater than before, took
over Gabriel, Michael and Jeremy’s minds, collapsing their thoughts
into nothing. They didn’t have any clue as to what was happening or
what just happened. “What are you guys talking about?” Jeremy
demanded as the lights went out in the institution. The darkness
turned to a red luster as the emergency lights went on abruptly,
and gave out a glow of red.

“Oh shut up!” Curtis yelled at Jeremy,
grabbing onto his arm and squeezing it. Victor unlocked Michael
from the table and grabbed his left arm while holding onto
Gabriel’s left shoulder. “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here,
we’ll keep them at my place till their time runs out,” Curtis said,
kicking open the door to the room and entering the crumbling
hallway.

Jeremy questioned, “Time runs out? What are
you talking about?” But they wouldn’t answer him. They dragged them
down the shaking hallway of Grewsal, Jeremy, Michael and Gabriel
not knowing where the shaking was coming from. Their adventure
would now begin.

CHAPTER NINE

J
eremy’s mother was
awoken from her deep sleep to the sound of ear-piercing screaming
coming from the darkened yellow cornfield that stood in the night’s
mist behind their farmhouse. She shot up from her bed and shook her
husband, trying to wake him, but with him being too deep in sleep
to open his eyes at all she gave up on the mission. She decided to
go check it out herself. She put on her blue cotton robe and ran
down her old wooden staircase, entered the foyer, and opened the
back door of the house, gazing out at the cornfield through the
screen door that held mosquitoes and bugs that got wedged in the
holes of it, trying to get through it. She stared at the fields of
grandness, stretching for four square miles, and waited with her
ear up to the screen of the door, trying to listen to see if she
could hear another scream again. Sounds of crickets chirping, the
wind howling in the darkness and flies buzzing around the outside
light that hung over her head were the only noises heard, but she
still listened. After waiting for ten seconds, a wave of shrieks
appeared, with one of the screams sounding like her son, Jeremy,
crying out in the shadows of the cornfield. She whacked open the
screen door, stood upon her porch of wood, and shouted, “Jeremy!”
There in the distance, right before the cornfield, stood Jeremy,
crying, with five other kids his age, all standing and staring at
her. The other kids had no faces, she noticed, just a straight
shield of flesh that allowed her fears to shout, “Jeremy, get away
from them.”

She ran up to them all, and saw tears forming
on all of their flesh where their eyes should be, and only seeing
flesh with tears coming down them. “Jeremy, who are these kids? And
what happened to their faces? And why aren’t you at Grewsal,
Jeremy? Come in the house now, and I’ll call the ambulance for you
kids to have your faces checked out!” Yet there was no answer.

Then a large wind blew over the field, and
Jeremy answered in a straight tone, with no high or low pitches, “I
am at Grewsal, Mother.”

She then cried out, “No you’re not, you’re
here. I’m so sorry that I didn’t call you for so long, but I tried,
and the doctors said that I couldn’t speak to you because of the
treatment; it might affect the progress of it if you heard the
voice of a loved one. They told all the parents that. I don’t know
why. Is that why you ran away from Grewsal?”

Suddenly, Jeremy and the faceless kids ran
into the cornfield, screaming out a roar of sounds, and the mother
entered the field as well, racing to catch up with Jeremy. Panting
and sweating, nicked by the sharp stalks that stood tall and wide,
the mother raced for an hour, finally entering the middle of the
field, where there stood a small prairie-like plateau. The faceless
kids stood around Jeremy, with Jeremy crying out, “Mother, it has
started, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Before her words could exit through her
tears, the five faceless young adults turned into demons, with red
wings shooting out of their scorched backs, and horns appearing
through their scalps, shooting blood out of the new wounds where
the horns exited, and filling the grassy ground with red. Their
faces formed demon-like qualities, with bloody lips, black eyes,
and red skin, all laughing out a low, deep giggle that gave the
mother goose bumps up her spine. The mother screamed and wailed,
seeing them all closing in on Jeremy’s innocent face, when suddenly
they disappeared, leaving Jeremy and her alone there. Each of the
five demons went to each of the four ends of the cornfield. Two
demons stood on one end, and the other three went to the other
ends, all covering the square cornfield. Abruptly, each of them
turned to flames of great fire, catching all the ends of the
cornfield into a blaze, with the blaze closing in on Jeremy and her
mother.

“Oh my God, Jeremy, all the ends of the field
are on fire. We’ll be burned alive,” the mother screamed, feeling
the heat from the tremendous speed of the fire getting closer to
their flesh. Suddenly the flames entered into where they stood, so
she grabbed Jeremy, and said to his tears, “We have to leave now.
Those things set the field on fire!”

Jeremy looked at her with tears falling from
his sickly, pale face, and answered, “We can’t, Mother…this is
home!” Quickly, the flames took over their bodies and burnt their
skin, and the mother felt the stinging pain of the flames torturing
her flesh. She screamed, “No!”

The mother closed her eyes, the flames so
bright that she could still see them through her closed lids.
Through the flames and her closed eyes, she suddenly found herself
in her bed, at night, jumping up in a panic and touching her skin
where there were no flames to be found. She realized it was all a
dream. Feeling her flesh, she still felt warmth on it, but the
night and her room depicting it were only a nightmare. She got up
from her bed and looked out her back window of the house, gazing at
the cornfield to make sure it was just a dream. Still smelling the
scent of burning corn stalks, she saw the darkened cornfield still
standing. She whispered to the darkness, “I miss you, Jeremy. May
God be with you….”

CHAPTER TEN

D
arkness shadowed
Grewsal, and clouds of images that seemed to be formed by the
lightning shot out toward the earth of misty shadows. Mary drove
past the gates of Grewsal and parked right next to some bushy,
overgrown foliage with thorny protrusions that sat next to the
building of gothic proportions. “Here we go, we’re finally here,”
Mary said to David. He sat mutely in the passenger’s seat and
stared at the razor-sharp thorns that hung from the bushes they had
parked next to. She turned off the car, took off her seat belt,
smiled to David and added, “Boy, I didn’t think that plane was
going to leave this early, we made very good time.” She glanced at
her rear-view mirror to check her hair for a moment and perceived
her cross that hung from it, dangling still from the car being in
motion before. She gazed at the cross very strongly, intuitively,
noticing something different about it. “What happened here?” she
asked, noticing bloodstains on the feet, thorns and both hands of
the miniature Jesus. “It’s probably rust!”

“I know what it is,” said David, looking
toward the cross.

“Well, David, we’ll talk about it as soon as
you get settled in Grewsal.” Mary then smiled to David and turned
to face Grewsal, seeing red lights gleaming outward through every
eye-like window the fortress held. At first she didn’t know what to
say, noticing what seemed to be flames building up behind the
windows, yet they were not flames of fire, just red lights that
waved in the shadows of Grewsal’s darkness. She had not ever seen
anything like it before. Stirs of faint echoes emerged from the
blackness around them, speaking to them in whispers, but she was
not able to understand them. Fear and trepidation soared over her
eyes, shot at her flesh, twisting her panic to bloom into terror as
she gawked at Grewsal, tears forming in her eyes from horror.

“My God, what’s happening?” she screamed,
racing out the door of her car and staring at the titanic fortress,
noticing that it was beginning to glow and shake at the same
time.

She ran up to the building, paused by the
door of Grewsal, and then after thinking about whether she should
go in or not, Mary grabbed onto the doorknob and felt a stinging
sensation hit her hand. The flesh on her hand was scalded from the
doorknob, so she scuttled down the stairs again and went to her
car, looking for something she could wrap her hand in. Tears of
pain made their way through her confused eyes, hesitating on
whether she should call the fire department on her own, or else
have David call them while she tried her hardest to save whoever
was jammed in Grewsal’s stomach. While she looked and searched
quickly, David got out of the car and watched the fortress with his
eyes widening and with a smile unhurriedly creeping out through his
lips. “Well, Jastian, it looks like you’re pissed,” he laughed
out.

Mary then found a handkerchief, wrapped it
around her hand, and dashed back toward Grewsal again. David ended
his laughter, not wanting her to see his smirks toward Grewsal’s
terror. “David, get in the car now and call 911. The cellphone’s in
the glove compartment!” she shouted. Instead of running toward
Grewsal like she did before, Mary decided to saunter patiently
toward its terror, walking up the stairs, when swiftly she noticed
the two statues of gargoyles were glowing crimson, with red light
from out of their eyes. “What the hell is going on?” she yelled
out, scampering up to the door, grabbing the doorknob with the hand
she had the handkerchief on, and opening it up finally. Once the
door opened, her eyes saw everything that human eyes weren’t ever
supposed to be a bystander to; and this was just the commencement,
the beginning of it all. Mary examined the glass statues of the
saints that were in the foyer beginning to move around, walking
around and abruptly stopping and staring at her presence.

Silence. Panic. Mary stood stiff, anxiety
crammed her stomach, and the statues still gaped at her eyes as her
pupils started to dilate in miserable nausea. She didn’t know
whether to run or faint, walk or stand, horrified over which choice
to make. Suddenly the entrance door to Grewsal slammed shut, so
there was no escape for Mary. She screamed, seeing thick blood
seeping through every end of the walls, dripping down them all,
with some blood oozing onto her. She was terrified, her eyes
pressing together with pain, praying that this was all a dream, but
it wasn’t. Mary then raced over to the front desk of the foyer, and
saw the head nurse sitting down in her chair. “Dolores, what’s
going on? We have to get out of here. What’s happening?” Dolores
got up, and with a straight, demented stare, slapped Mary across
the face with immense force. At that point, Mary become aware of
wings coming out of Dolores’s back and spreading out in a “V”
formation. They were bright yellow wings, with a tint of white
mixed in with their feathery texture. Each feather held small eyes
to their body, and blood seeped out of each eye that gazed at
Mary.