Benazir's Blog

Ch. 13 Athena's Gift

2008-12-20T11:52:00.000-08:00

Chapter 13

“It has been my experience that folks who have no vices also have very few virtues.” - Abraham Lincoln

Trench coated people began parting and moving towards the door of the club as Matthews’ group headed for the Angels table. Several of the trench coats stopped at various tables, whispering in the ears of patrons. The music was still playing, people still drank and the dance floor was still crowded. But a thick tension began to spread through the air.

Annabeth and Mikhail appeared momentarily frustrated to see Matthew. One of Matthew’s men reached out and snatched someone by the collar, dragging them into the booth.

Groups within the club began to shift, moving from tables and positioning themselves for a fight or to get out quickly. There had to be five hundred people crowded in here, if this place went up it was going to be bad.

“Jeff, maybe we should go put a circle down outside.” I suggested in Jeff’s ear.

“I’ll go get that started, you get the others. Warn Phineas.” Jeff headed for the door. I began threading my way back to the table.

“The Necromance returns…” Phineas announced, smiling conspiratorially when I approached the table. “What trouble have you started for us now?”

“Jeff is putting a circle down outside the club, we need to leave now.” I said, ignoring Phineas’ comments. “He asked that I tell you that the Angels and the Demon Touched are about to throw down.”

“Maybe you should just have a seat,” he said, patting a chair next to him, “and keep your head down.”

Phineas leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingertips. He uttered what sounded like a cross between a prayer and an obscene oath. He dropped his now glowing crucifix beneath his shirt.

Jill and Suzanne picked up on Phineas’ air of panic and looked around surreptitiously.

“We need to go now.” I said, why weren’t they listening to me?

“Sit Down!” Phineas ordered me sharply, in a low voice. “You are making us stand out.”

I lowered myself into the closest seat, not right next to Phineas. I had to turn slightly to see the front door, which I did slowly. My skin crawled with energy as I expected to be struck or yanked out of my chair at any moment.

“Girls, pull up some chairs here.” Phineas snapped his fingers, but didn’t speak above a whisper.

About six women from all over this back area of the club sat as close to Phineas as they could. They all appeared to be deep in conversation with Phineas, but I could see that they were putting on jackets and shawls to cover cleavage or bright colors. A few of them let their long hair down to cover their faces.

Phineas brought out a handful of herbs and powders that he dropped into the large glass ashtray in the center of the table. He placed his smoldering cigar into the small pile, setting it alight. Then he brought out a small flask of perfumed liquid and shook it all around the area. A few of the drops landed on my shirt.

I could see the misty lines forming behind Phineas. They began to swirl all around the table, in between all of us.

“What are you doing Phineas?” I asked, “Suzanne, can you see them?”

“I see them. They’re beautiful.” Suzanne said, obviously in a state of awe.

As I tracked one of the shapes flowing behind Jill I noticed that people at the tables next to us were watching something at the door. With dread I turned in my seat to see what held their attention.

Richard and his two meaty thugs were looking right at us, a golden flash smoldering in his eyes.

“Ladies, go out the back and find Jeff.” Phineas quickly ordered us. Several of his women got up and headed for the back door.

Jill, Suzanne and I looked at each other.

“You don’t have anything on you that will stop Richard. Please, just leave while you can.” Phineas made the decision for us.

We all got up. I decided to follow Jill and Suzanne, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we would all make it.

I gasped as I stared right into the golden, leering eyes of Richard. Damn, he was fast.

“You still owe me Phineas.” His voice had changed cadence and vocabulary. “Perhaps I’ll take this one as partial payment.”

His two underlings chuckled darkly. I didn’t care for the implications.

“If you think that you can, Richard.” Phineas challenged. “Besides, she doesn’t belong to me.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“What else do you want, Richard?” Phineas was negotiating now, apparently putting me on my own.

“I think it is time you began pulling your weight with us. We have left you free to operate for far too long. Your women will begin distributing Sight for us immediately, starting with this one.” He said, reaching for my shoulder.

I tried to step back, but I was pinned between the table and Richard. He pulled me up on tiptoe and tilted my head back so I could look him in the eye.

“None of my clients have any use for Sight, Richard.” Phineas announced simply.

“You have just taken on new clients. Stop calling me that, you are ruining my concentration.” Not-Richard growled out, returning his vision to me.

“Who’d you sell your soul to Richard?” I called out loudly, “Or did you give permission to this thing to ride you?”

Not-Richard paused, looking at me quizzically. He looked over at Phineas but I couldn’t be sure what he saw. Hoping to see an Angel coming to the rescue, I panned the crowd behind Richard. Matthew and his goon squad were hustling Annabeth and Mikhail out the door. Annabeth tossed me a smirk before she went out shaking her head.

“Oh, this one will be a lot of fun won’t she? I think we’ll keep her as an example to the rest of your whores. When we finish with her we’ll send her back to you.” Richard said in an evil voice, smiling at me for all the world like a kindly Uncle. “She will of course, be expected to perform just as the others. No matter what she looks like.”

He shoved me at his two thugs for safekeeping as he sat down at the table, across from Phineas. One of them, with a chipped front tooth, grabbed a fistful of hair. The other, with a strange sort of pompadour, removed my gun and began patting me down for anything else of interest. Pompadour paused at my breasts, giving them a painful pinch. When I didn’t cry out, he twisted, causing me to gasp. Chipped tooth laughed softly as he ground against my backside. I was in so much trouble right now.

“Don’t worry, little whore, you won’t be entirely alone.” Richard said casually, looking at Phineas. “One of you go out back and bring in the rest of Phineas’ girls. We should probably test them out. I’d hate for them to expire too quickly the first time they have to service a Demon.”

Pompadour gave my breasts a final smack, making them jiggle.

“My pleasure.” He said as he headed for the back door.

I have found that men who exhibited a violent fascination for breasts had issues with their sexuality. Somehow that scared me more than Chipped Tooth.

Phineas wouldn’t look at me. He had a defeated expression on his face as the Loa swirled ineffectually around him. Richard passed a small cigar box across the table towards Phineas, who peeked inside the lid before putting it inside his jacket.

“If you want immediate distribution I’ll need all my girls. I can only work a new market with numbers.” Phineas began, all business.

“Not to worry, your new clients will find you. By now, everyone from Heaven to Hell knows what you are selling.” He chuckled to himself. Then to Chipped Tooth he said, “Take her and the others back to my office. I will be there as soon as I finish out the details with Phineas.”
**********************

I struggled unsuccessfully against my captor when we reached the door. He told me not to waste my energy; I’d be needing it later.

When we got outside Chipped Tooth looked around for Pompadour. Not finding him he yanked me around the corner by my hair, leading me towards the back of the building. I could see Loa swirling above a pile of bloody rags.

As we got closer I realized that the rags were attached to body parts. Female body parts. My eyes watered as I realized that someone or something had ripped these women limb from limb. Then I saw the sapphire ring on a broken and twisted finger.

“What have you done? Richard said to bring them back to the office- not kill them you sick bastard!” Chipped Tooth cried out in a panicked voice. “This is on you. All on you.”

He spun me around as if to protect me from what I assumed was Pompadour. As I sailed around by the hair I saw the bloody form of Pompadour kneeling near the wall of the alley. He appeared to be licking his fingers.

As he whipped me around facing the other wall, Chipped Tooth sent me sprawling to the pavement. I could only guess that he and Pompadour were fighting. I took this chance to move away, crawling until I could get my legs under me.

When I turned back I could still see Pompadour kneeling. I looked over at Chipped Tooth and he was on the ground wrestling with someone.

“A little help here…” Jeff called to me, as Chipped Tooth somehow managed to roll on top of Jeff.
Relief flooded through me as I ran back over, keeping an eye on the strangely still form of Pompadour. Why wasn’t he getting up?

I lined up for a perfect boot to the ribs, then remembered how easy it was for a foot to be caught. I took the extra step and turned it into a knee, much more effective. I heard a satisfying crack when I connected and grabbed the back of Chippy’s shirt as I lined up for another. He tried to roll away from me, allowing me to get his face this time. Blood sprayed from his now smashed nose as he sailed back off of Jeff.

I stepped over Jeff and stomped down on Chippy’s ankle, feeling it twist beneath my boot. I transferred all of my weight to that boot, scraping down the side of his foot until it found pavement again. Chippy instinctively pulled up in pain, and I brought my foot up to smash his ruined nose. It wasn’t as satisfying as the knee, so I knelt a little to reach for his hair.

In his rush to get away from me he wound up on his back again, pulling me forward. I got my fingers twisted into his nasty retro Afro and didn’t let go. I stomped on his mid section, but I couldn’t get enough momentum going for any real damage. The air whooshed out of him, stifling his scream. I began yanking his head around, trying to maintain control of his panicked efforts to get away from me. He brought his knees up to try to protect himself, but he was overweight and out of shape. He just couldn’t muster it. All he could do was scrabble with his hands and crab walk with his legs on a broken ankle.

Through a series of stomps and yanks of his hair I got him flipped over on his front. Standing behind and beside him, I dug a knee into his back as I pulled up on his hair. I imagined this was a very similar scenario to what he had planned for me.

I tried to kick his hands out from under him, thinking to smash his face into the ground. He fought me. I stomped his fingers making him cry out in pain, then I twisted the ball of my foot into them. As the fingers twisted and rolled beneath my boot he shrieked loudly- begging me to stop.

“What, isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you had in mind?” I yelled back in a cracking voice. I was breathing heavily at this point, strength draining out of me. A steady stream of obscenities issued from my mouth as I again tried to get his hands out from under him so I could smash his face.

“Lucy. LUCY!” Jeff said mildly behind me. He had his hand resting lightly in the middle of my back.

I let out a frustrated wail as I looked over at the pile of body parts. I pushed Chippy’s head forward as I released him and stood upright again, subduing an urge to stomp on his back. Then I saw Pompadour still kneeling against the wall. My vision got a little tunnelly and the world took on a dark reddish cast.

With renewed energy I turned my rage on Pompadour. As I headed towards him I stomped down on the back of Chippy’s whimpering head, feeling the fragile neck bones give way beneath me. He stopped whimpering.

I approached Pompadour at angle from behind, not giving him the chance to react to me. I didn’t know why he wasn’t helping Chippy out, maybe he was in some sort of bloodlust ecstasy. It didn’t matter- I would be yanking him out of his fantasy soon enough.

I picked my foot up to knee height, turning slightly to the side, scraping down the back of Pompadour’s ribs. He slid even further into the wall crumpling in an immobile heap at my feet. I stomped down over and over again until Jeff put his hand on my shoulder again, calling my name softly.

“Where were you?” I yelled at Jeff angrily. “Where were you?”

I headed for the pile of bodies. The Loa were still swirling over them. As I moved closer I could feel the same heavy static electricity that passed between Phineas and I earlier. Something just felt wrong about it. I felt like I was pushing against something in the air. Every time I thought I might get a handle on it, I rolled out of it.

The back door of the club slammed open and Phineas came barreling out. I jumped back, ready for Richard to follow.

Phineas dropped to his knees next to the bodies, pulling packets of herbs from his pockets.

“Help me Jeff, we don’t have much time.” Phineas cried. Jeff dropped down next to him, lighting up a cigar and using it to burn various herbs.

The bodies began to waver visually. The Loa circled faster and faster gradually vanishing from view.

Incredibly I was looking at all of the women, including Jill and Suzanne, sitting unharmed in a circle on the ground. I gasped in shock as tears ran freely down my cheek.

“Lets go ladies,” Phineas snapped his fingers repeatedly, “Lucy help them up. They are stiff from sitting here so long.”

We began to pull them to their feet, moving towards the mouth of the alley.

“How long Phineas?” Jeff asked.

Phineas tilted his head, again listening to voices I couldn’t hear.

“He is beginning to suspect. Maybe a minute or two. Let us hope he investigates out here before he decides to track us.” Phineas answered.

With that, we began to run towards our room at the Catholic Church.

Ch. 12 Athena's Gift

2008-12-20T11:36:00.000-08:00

Chapter 12

“Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.”- Marcel Proust

The level of seediness within the club rose in direct correlation with the number of bodies crowding in the door. We had to shout to be heard. Getting to the rest room became an obstacle course through sweaty bodies.

“Come with me.” Jeff shouted at us, “I see someone I know.”

Our empty booth seemed to draw people in like a vacuum.

We wound our way through the crowd, past the dance floor and towards the darkened back half of the dance side of the club. People back here glanced furtively around themselves, looking for something but afraid to be seen. Further back women were giving lap dances and bringing their money to one of several men.

Jeff headed to a large round table with about five absolutely gorgeous women and one guy with black dreads. He was wearing a plum colored button down shirt, a bowler style hat and smoked a fat cigar. Pimp was the term that came to mind.

As I approached, the Purple Pimp looked up at me with brilliant blue eyes. He rose from his chair hesitantly, extending a hand towards me. The ambient noise in the room seemed to subdue and my hand felt like it was wading through thick static electricity as I reached to grasp his hand. There was a sense of repulsion, similar to magnets being forced together the wrong way the closer our fingers got.

We glanced at each other, gauging the other’s reaction. He quirked a smile at me and we decided to withdraw our hands. I chose an empty seat across from him as he sat back down.

“What have you brought me Jeff?” he asked in a deep mellifluous voice; it sounded faintly Caribbean to me. “You are always in such interesting company.”

As Jeff made the introductions, the Purple Pimp snapped his fingers at the women around him. They docilely left the table allowing Jill, Suzanne and Jeff to be seated. Jeff seemed to purposefully place himself between SupahPimp and me.

“You have a lovely accent,” Jill began, “Where are you from?”

“I have traveled far in my life.” He answered leaning forward to kiss the back of her hand, “but I am originally from New Orleans.”

“Ladies, this is Phineas. You may remember us hoping to find him in Danville earlier this year Lucy.” Jeff cut in, visibly uncomfortable with the friendliness of Jill and Phineas.

Come to think of it, this snapping of the fingers really should have set us all on edge. What kind of self-respecting woman responded to that? And, hey…what was that?

“Can I get you something Phineas?” Suzanne asked in a voice dripping with, well, it was x-rated. She leaned in, giving him a nice view of The Girls, who had by the way gotten completely out of control. That shirt couldn’t take much more of the heaving and swaying.

Jill and Suzanne had their gazes locked on Phineas. I looked over at Jeff who was shaking his head a little, smiling to himself.

“They aren’t even your type Phineas. Let them go.” Jeff said, with a small chuckle in his voice.

“What?” Phineas asked innocently, “Besides, you don’t know what my type is.”

“Phineas.” Jeff said a little more sternly.

“I’m not actively working anything right now.” Phineas said, “It’s the bath from earlier.”

Oh, that just explains everything…

“You know, I don’t understand half of what you say most of the time.” Jeff said. “These ladies aren’t available to you. Forget about it.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! They are sitting right here, they can hear you.” I blustered out, “Why are we even over here Jeff?”

“You are here because you are concerned for the Angels.” Phineas answered for Jeff, who just nodded his head. Jill and Suzanne took a sip of their beer in unison. They didn’t even make a face.

“It’ll wear off shortly.” Phineas said in a low voice to me. “Don’t worry.”

Riiight…

Phineas really was a Pimp. Just not in the traditional sense according to him. He claimed that all of his women were with him by choice, got regular health care provided by him and were NOT addicts of any sort. Some of them were supporting children and elderly parents, some of them were just trying to get by until something better came along.

I still wasn’t feeling all warm and fuzzy towards Phineas. Every few minutes a beautiful young woman would discreetly pass him a wad of bills, jewelry or other items. He would politely thank them, fix a stray strand of hair or disheveled bit of clothing and send them back on their way.

Jill was beginning to snap out of her amorous stupor and I could see that she was uncomfortable sitting with a working pimp. She got quiet and seemed to be waiting for this to be over.

Suzanne however, was curious. She wanted to know everyone’s name, how long had they been with Phineas, did he have a favorite? Sheesh! And for his part, he seemed to be growing fond of our Suzanne. He gave her a pretty sapphire ring when she commented on it, just like that. She protested at first, but he said it sparkled like her eyes when she smiled- oh it was getting deep.

I was really ready to call this night a bust and leave the happy hookers behind. I was about to say so when a large man a few tables away got up and came over to join us. Jeff and Phineas both tensed up, causing me to do the same.

“Richard, I have not extended any invitations to you this evening.” Phineas said in a loud carrying voice. The people at the tables around us seemed to pause and then move a little away.

“By my calculations,” the large man said in a classic TV pimpified voice, “you owe me some green. Since you passin’ out jooory, maybe you bettah throw somma dat in too.”

Two even larger men joined him. I was beginning to get worried.

“Whachoo reachin’ fo’ ho’,” he yelled at me, “Getcho’ bitches under control heaah Phin.”

What was that? Bitches!

Bitches!! Jill and Suzanne’s expressions said it all.

All the ladies brought out our stash of weapons; such as they were and turned in our seats to face Richard and friends. Jill slammed one of her throwing knives into the table for effect. I wondered briefly if Jill actually knew how to throw the things.

Jeff stood up next to me, with a calming hand on my shoulder that I shook off. I wasn’t about to get manhandled by my shoulder this time.

“Richard!” Phineas said in a commanding voice. “You have insulted me. Go back to your table right now!”

The people around us were giving us as much space as possible. I started to stand up, crossing my arms in front of me so I could point but still hide, my gun.

“Jeff, my friend. This is not your battle tonight. Perhaps you and your friends should come back in a few moments. After I have dealt with this piece of gutter trash.” Phineas said pointedly.

Then he cocked his head, listening to something we couldn’t hear.

Richard blanched for second. “Don’t you put no curse on me mothaf**ka...”

Then he gagged, reaching for his throat. He started clawing at it, as if he were trying to peel a pair of hands away. His large friends began to back away, looking nervously about themselves.

“The Gede say you are a nuisance I should deal with myself, you are so far beneath them.” Phineas said calmly. He cocked his head again. “And the Baron Samedi says he has no use for you, yet, so I will let you go. Trouble me no more, you have not yet seen what one of my curses may do.”

A crucifix that Phineas was wearing began to glow with a bluish light. Richard stopped struggling, his eyes bulging in fear. The large man turned and ran out of the club screaming about a Voodoo curse.

I could see four Things, for lack of a better word, swirling around Phineas’ head. They seemed like smoky, misty tribal tattoos in motion. Phineas looked at me and gave me a half nod as the Things faded.

“Let us sit back down.” He said calmly, snapping his fingers again. The women who weren’t otherwise occupied headed for the bar to bring back shots for the tables around us. Phineas muttered a few phrases under his breath and pulled out a few coffee beans from a pocket. He crushed them on the table under a shot glass and returned the coffee grounds to his pocket, patting it.

“For later.” He said, winking at me. Whatever.

“Don’t look up.” Jeff said quietly, with a glance to Phineas. “Are you expecting any Demon Touched tonight?”

I winced at the words and with an effort managed to smile and look only at Phineas.

“Oh, I expect Demon Touched every night. You are correct, a few have taken note of us and are now watching.” Phineas said. “I expect they were drawn to my discussion with the Loa.”

“What about the Angels, Annabeth and Mikhail?” I asked, would they help us?

“They are still around. But they will not interfere directly with each other here.” Phineas said. “Just wait calmly with me and they will move on to their real business for the night.”

“Which is…?” I prompted.

“Most are here to score. A few of the Demon Touched are here to recruit, but they will not bother any of mine. The Loa discourage them.” Phineas informed us.

“Loa?” Suzanne asked him.

“Yes, Spirits. I practice a form of magic you probably know of as Voodoo. It is too much to explain to you right now. Let us just say that it is a mix of African traditions, Haitian Vodoun, Catholicism and Native American herbalism.” He smiled at Suzanne as a round of spiced rum was passed around the table.

“A toast. To Baron Samedi and the Gede.” Phineas and his ladies tipped back their shots, leaving a few drops of the liquid in the bottom. They turned the glasses over, slapping them down on the table.

We looked at each other, none of our foursome wanted to drink the rum. I personally liked rum, but I was dead set against getting tipsy.

“It’s ok. You may drink with me even if you don’t thank the Loa.” Phineas was letting us off the hook.

I guess we had to drink.
**********************

Suzanne and Phineas engrossed themselves in an animated discussion about herbalism. Jill had an incredulous question now and then, grasping at a positive attitude.

“They are relatively safe here with Phineas.” Jeff whispered to me as he steered me towards the bar. As we rounded the corner to the bar side, we could see Annabeth and Mikhail. People in trench coats in varying degrees of agitation surrounded them.

“I am going to go ahead and call the Full Stein. Watch my back.”

Jeff turned in to face a corner, hiding his actions from view. I scanned the room around us, noting at least three people watching us intently. They didn’t even try to hide it. I took that to mean that they were hoping to intimidate me into behaving. Fat chance.

“Apparently, the Regulators are already here.” Jeff said, pocketing a hand held radio.

As he turned we could see a group of about five extra tall guys in trench coats sweep through the front half of the dance floor, heading for the bar side. Muscles from the Full Stein broke off from the end of the group and moved towards us.

“That’s Matthew. Don’t be rude to him.” Jeff quickly told me.

Rude! I wasn’t the one interrogating women and bopping them with stun batons.

“You two may want to leave. We are going to try to get Annabeth and Mikhail out without a fuss before the rest of the Demon Touched show up.” Matthew turned around to join the others.

The rest of the Demon Touched?

Ch.11 Athena's Gift

2008-12-20T11:23:00.000-08:00

Chapter 11

For certain is death for the born
And certain is birth for the dead
Therefore over the inevitable
Thou shouldst not grieve
-Bhagavad-Gita

A little perspective, gained from a decent nights sleep, made our discussions from the previous night look like Amateur Hour. The more I thought about it, the more I really didn’t feel up to the challenge. Who was I to think that Angels could use my help anyway?

I got up, brewed some tea and took a shower. I put on a plain black t-shirt and an old pair of snow camouflage pants. The pants had holes and grease spots on them, but they were comfortable. I hoped I didn’t look like a crazed militant.

Jill and Suzanne must have smelled the tea because they joined me shortly after I got dressed. We enjoyed the luxury of having other women around to do something with our hair, ending up with three reddish brown versions of French braiding.

At around 10:30 Jeff knocked on our door. He had bagels and butter, which we plowed through ravenously.

After he left us last night, he went back to the seminary and started asking around about the Angel bar and Demon issues. People within the church seemed reluctant to discuss any of it, as if they were embarrassed. But, he did have a good lead on a nightclub where a certain drug could be purchased. He suggested we start there by just observing tonight.

“That’s all well and good.” I said, “but what about Jill and Suzanne? They still need to get to Michigan, now more than ever. They didn’t sign on for this.”

“I haven’t forgotten about that. Lets get the ham radios out today and start broadcasting about this drug and find out if anyone from Michigan is listening. Maybe we should also mention something about the Hashmallim and Demons, but we need to put it in a way that we don’t sound like cranks.” Jeff answered, “I’ll check with some people from the church to find out about getting to Michigan, sometimes they send church vans out. Maybe you ladies can join one of those.”

“Oh. That’s great.” Jill said “We figured we would have to wait longer to move on once we got here.”

We pulled the radios out of our bags and got to work, starting with Charlie and my mom. They sounded great and the fledgling camp at the Grove was still going strong. Chris and the new Illiniwek camp was also doing well, in spite of a harrowing visit from the Hashmallim. It was good to hear his voice again.

When Jeff left for his meeting, we spent some time surfing around listening to other broadcasts. Some were pretty mundane but others sounded even crazier than ours.

Europe was experiencing issues with Valkyries snatching people up.

A giant serpent had leveled Melbourne Australia, remaking it into a landlocked bowl with mountains between it and the ocean.

In a small town in Bangladesh, a glowing woman was riding around on the back of a tiger, destroying everything in her path. Reports claim that extra arms occasionally sprouted from her back with weapons. The people in India were divided on the issue of the tiger woman, some were actually building shrines in praise of her outside their front doors.

I’m not sure how much of this I could believe. Probably, people were experiencing the same strange sort of happenings that we were right here in Illinois. I think people do have a tendency to assign something they are familiar with to things they can’t explain.

But, if these events were being accurately described for us- what would that mean? What if the God of the Western world wasn’t the only one not coming back for the end of times?
**************************

Our hairdos kept getting bigger. We hadn’t reached the point of disturbance yet, but anyone could see where this hair dresser-itis was leading.

The ladies all opted for comfortable jeans, shoes we could run in and our dressiest tops. Suzanne had some impressive cleavage going on, so we would be letting her lead.

Needing to get weapons into the club discreetly meant that we had to leave the shotguns here. Jill chose a set of small throwing knives, they were the only weapons Suzanne and I couldn’t see on her spare frame when we stepped away. I had my nine as usual. It took some effort to talk Suzanne into leaving her 357 behind in favor of mace clipped to her waist. I felt sorry in advance for whoever pushed her over the edge someday.

There was a knock at the door and Jill got up to look through the peephole.

Oh My God…she mouthed at us silently as she opened the door to let Jeff in. I had to do a double take as he walked in wearing black fatigues and a black tank top. He was freshly shaven and the scratches and bruising from our trip in had faded.

I closed my mouth as he crossed the room to draw the blinds against the darkness outside. Suzanne cocked an eyebrow at me and I mouthed a Holy Cow at her. Had he always been this muscle-y? And he smelled good too.

“What?” he asked when he turned around and we still hadn’t said anything.

“Hm hmm, right, lets go, do we have everything?” the three of us answered trying to nonchalantly fill the silence. We tucked cash and ID’s in various pockets and decided against light jackets.

“What’s up with that hair?” he asked, “I thought we were trying to be inconspicuous?”

“Wait’ll you see The Girls.” I muttered just as Suzanne passed them in a turn under his nose. I waited as he tracked their progress with a surprised look. He let them pass without saying anything, probably deciding they had great powers of distraction that might be useful later.

Suzanne and Jeff walked mostly in front leaving Jill and I to look over our shoulders from time to time, watching behind us. We only had about a mile to walk to get to the club, but it was through a very seedy area. We passed hookers, pimps, homeless and addicts all along the way. I was thankful to be part of a group. Individuals would have made very easy targets out here.

Bass was bumping within the club and we could feel it outside on the sidewalk. There was no cover to get in and no line. Two substantial looking bouncers eyeballed us as we entered, eventually settling on Suzanne.

The place was essentially a large warehouse, loosely partitioned off into a bar area and dance floor area. We headed for a booth towards the back of the bar area, the last one available.

“I’m going to get us a pitcher of beer. Take a look around and count up who is here.” Jeff announced as he headed for the bar.

“Wait, I don’t like beer. Check on the wine.” Jill called after him.

He came back with beer.

I saw two tables with trench coats on the backs of the chairs. Everyone else seemed like normal people out for a night of fun. There were several groups of men periodically checking our table out, but clearly unsure of approaching with Jeff there.

“No wine?” Jill asked.

“We aren’t here to drink. The beer is just a prop.” Jeff informed us. “I was getting the eye from a woman around the corner from the bar, I’ll be back.”

Jeff disappeared from view. I wondered if we were supposed to be catching ‘the eye’ of any of the men hanging around.

“I say we just let Jeff do what he needs to do. I really don’t think we want to pick anybody up in here.” I put in.

“Yeah, I don’t want a date. But if someone wants to dance I’m going.” Jill said, looking around.

“Just don’t go off by yourself with anyone. I can’t tell who is demon touched and who isn’t.” I warned. That seemed to settle Jill down.

We all scanned the area and realized that a couple in a booth across from us looked familiar. It was the crackhead couple from last night. They appeared to recognize us as well, offering us a nod. But they continued their conversation, joined occasionally by other people.

“They look a lot better today. Not so twitchy.” I remarked. “They don’t seem to care about us at all.”

“Well, don’t stare.” Suzanne whispered loudly, “What are we supposed to do about it if they are selling this Angel drug anyway?”

“Nothing tonight. We are just supposed to observe.” I answered.

Jeff came back to the table about ten minutes later and poured himself a glass of beer. We were a little early. Once the place filled up, there would be more to see. The place had a good crowd already, about a hundred people. But more were coming in all the time.

We pointed out the crackhead couple to Jeff, who informed us that they were named Annabeth and Mikhail. I remembered the names from the Full Stein.

“Those two are sort of like dealers, except they don’t sell the drug directly. They look for humans who can be sucked into working for them. Then they help coordinate getting the drug from the supplier to the new customer when one is located. The humans get what they want and so does everybody else.” Jeff filled us in.

“So, who is their supplier?” I asked.

“Ultimately it is a Demon. But it gets filtered through demon touched.” Jeff responded. “We need to wait for those two Angels to make contact with their supplier. Then I am going to call Matthew at the Full Stein. He’ll send in the group that deals with errant Angels.”

I didn’t think I wanted to be around for that.

Ch.10 Athena's Gift

2008-12-20T10:55:00.000-08:00

Chapter 10

“We are all atheists about most of the Gods societies have ever believed in. Some of us just go one God further.”- Richard Dawkins

Holy Cow! I’m not dead! WTF…? The room faded again.
*****************

“That really won’t be necessary…” I heard Jeff saying conversationally, “She isn’t going to cause any problems once she understands.”

“Until we understand her, she will remain as she is.” A familiar voice argued, “She is awake.”
So much for pretending. And, Ouch. I was trussed up like a turkey.

“Get me out of this, Jeff!” I said grumpily, my head hurt too.

“We will put you in one of those chairs, but, know that your friends lives depend on your cooperation.” Muscles said, leaning into my field of view. He seemed to be trying to catch my gaze.

“Fine.” I answered, step one accomplished.

Muscles produced a long knife and cut the rope from my feet to my hands. Then he picked me up and set me gently into one of the folding chairs, facing him.

I allowed the blood to circulate while I studied the room and its occupants. I’d get my shot; I just had to wait for it.

“Lucy, these are not Demon Touched.” Jeff tried to explain.

“And I suppose our new friends are Angel Touched?” I cut him off sarcastically.

“Well, no.” He said. He looked like he was going to say more, but Muscles interrupted him.

“We are not here to discuss me, we need to discuss you.” Muscles said harshly.

“Well, ask then.” I said crossly.

He took a deep steadying breath. Good, I wanted to be under his skin a little.

“I know that Jeff has already asked you this, but I am going to ask again. What are you?” he looked me in the eye. These intense stare downs were getting creepy.

“I don’t know what you mean. And what’s with the googly eyes?” I returned.

He let out a frustrated breath and got up from his chair. The door to the room opened and Bartender John walked in.

“Mikhail and Annabeth left.” John announced.

“We’ll deal with them later. Is anyone following them?” Muscles asked.

“No, they slipped out while we were dealing with the humans.” John answered, “Do you need me for anything?”

“No, just keep things going up front.” Muscles instructed. John stepped back out.

“What about Jill and Suzanne?” I asked, concerned for the mere humans.

“They are fine. We sent them back to the apartment.” Muscles answered me in a tired voice, but I doubted him. I looked over at Jeff and he nodded his head in confirmation. I was just going to have to accept that for now.

“What happened with your friend Jason?” Muscles asked me. He was clearly trying to throw me off balance. I shot Jeff a glower before I told Muscles everything I knew about it. Maybe I could get some information in return.

“Hmmm.” Was all I got. Muscles, Jeff and the other two trench coats got up and left the room.
I took that opportunity to try to loosen my feet and hands up. It wasn’t working out very well.

Jeff came back in with a pocketknife and started slicing off the ropes. It was now or never. Should I try to outrun him or knock him down? Could I do both?

“We are free to go, please don’t say or do anything to change their minds.” Jeff said as if he was reading my mind.

I hesitated as I planted my feet. He reached down and took my hand. Maybe it was supposed to be comforting. I had the feeling it was meant to keep at least one arm under control.

We walked out of the back room and I glared at everyone. That was the best I could do at the moment. My gun wasn’t in my pocket any more.

“See you later, Lucy.” John called after me. Jeff pushed me out the door before I could reply.

“Okay, we’re going, I’m going.” I said petulantly, shaking Jeff’s grip off my hand. “What in Hell was that all about? Why are walking out?”

“I’ll explain when we get to your apartment. Just keep walking.” He picked up his pace. He seemed perfectly normal, even for him.

We said hello to Sister Marta as we went up the stairs. Jill and Suzanne had better be here, I muttered to myself.

The ladies unlocked the door after peering at us through the peephole. I had to push Suzanne’s gun down as we walked in, she was on a hair trigger with worry. They had been escorted back to the apartment by one of the Coats, but they seemed to be having difficulty remembering details.

Jeff kept assuring us that we were okay. He tried several times to explain things to us, but we kept getting off on tangents. Shaking his head, he finally walked off into the bathroom. We heard the shower going and realized we were going to have to wait for him to come out to fill us in.

Briefly we discussed going in and talking to him anyway. But we couldn’t quite work up the nerve.
**********************

Jeff says that the people in the tavern, except for the dartboard guys, are actually Angels. I was pretty sure his head had been tampered with, since we all knew that we had seen Angels at my parent’s house.

It turns out we were both right.

The Angels at the tavern were sort of blue collar Angels. They had been among us since the time of Christ when they were given instructions to observe the spiritual evolution of Man. Angels, as they were properly referred to, were charged to correct minor imbalances with the minions of the Devil.

Angels and Demons had been duking it out since biblical times, awaiting Armageddon. In an effort to blend in, many of them have adopted human habits. Many of them have adopted humans for that matter. Those that have taken to human ways, with families and day jobs are often seen as tainted by the others.

The creatures at my mom’s house were Angels as well, but of a higher order. They are probably Hashmallim, part of the Dominion order of Angels. They are pure and inflexible, sent to regulate the lower order Angels and pass Judgment upon the people in their care. Jeff says that these Hashmallim are somewhat resented by the Angels as too idealistic for a world with no Gods.

“A world with no Gods?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“The Angels have been waiting for God to return. That’s what Judgment Day is supposed to be about. Word has come from the Hashmallim that Judgment Day is here, but God isn’t making an appearance.” Jeff answered me in a sad voice. He gave us all a moment to let that sink in.

“There are other problems before us right now. Or rather, for the Angels.” Jeff began. “Angels & Demons have integrated into society, blurring their own lines of good & evil. As you saw, many have taken to human ways. The Demons have developed a drug that dampens Awareness. It is highly addictive and it keeps the Angels busy with rehabbing their own.”

“I am not sure how it works but the Demons have also fallen prey to it, no one seems to care about that.” Jeff added. “I believe this is where my skills will be most useful.”

“What, rehabbing Demons?” I asked, not quite able to wrap my head around these revelations.

Jeff indicated we should all take a seat on the couch.

“Look, the world is experiencing a holy free for all. Right here, in this city, it is Angels vs. Demons. This is true for most of the Western world, aside from some small pockets like your Retreat.” He said with a nod to Jill and Suzanne. “We do NOT want the Demons to win. It’s really that simple, you have to pick a side.”

“But, if the Demons and Angels have no power in the Retreat” Jill began “then maybe we don’t need to get involved. Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“She has a good point.” I piped up, thinking of the peaceful life they had carved out. “Why bring this fight down on them?”

“Here is the problem. It's just a matter of time before the Demons decide that they can hide out in your sacred places. They may not have any direct power, but the minute one of you steps off the Reservation, they can possess you just like anyone else.” Jeff answered gravely. “ What happens if Demons decide to farm your people? They’ll just never come back. The enslaved may even exert influence on others.”

That shocked us. He was absolutely right. No one at the Retreat was screening anyone for religious beliefs, just assuming that they would assimilate peacefully. It may be possible to get enough staunch Christians together to change the spiritual balance, allowing Angels and Demons to hold sway over Mother Earth.

I almost voiced that sentiment. But, what if that is what was supposed to happen? Shouldn’t we as Christians welcome the battle with Evil? Was I willing to cut my Christianity, such as it was, short in order to allow what were essentially Pagans to escape Judgment?

Didn’t Judaism and Islam have an Angelic tradition as well; did they get the same version of Angels we have? I was beginning to feel information overload creeping in.

“Jeff, if God isn’t coming, does that mean that we are on our own?” I asked. I am not sure exactly what I meant by that. I was so confused.

“We’ve been on our own for a long time.” Jeff responded. “That part of the human story won’t change. I believe God left us to our own devices to see what would happen without his interference. Whatever other human errors may have crept into the Bible and Torah and Koran, he promised us all a Judgment day. And this is it. It just isn’t the way I expected it. Our survival is what is at stake here. The Demons would love to take over and the Hashmallim are going to do their part by Judging us. If we are going to survive, and I have to believe that God meant for that to happen, we need to stop thinking in conventionally religious terms.” Jeff said. “It isn’t about saving souls any more or conversions to the correct religion. Its about surviving Angels and Demons for us. I don’t think God cares so much about blind faith followers, the people who might one day make it into his presence will simply be survivors.”

“So, I think I am understanding you correctly,” Suzanne said with a methodical tone, “maybe what needs to happen is that we get rid of the Demons and the Angels will leave. Theoretically allowing humans to go on their merry way.”

“Except the ones sent to Judge us.” I put in, “What do you think their criteria are?”

“I think it comes down to basic Good and Evil. People have chosen to follow Christianity, Judaism and even Islam in this part of the world. Their generations of belief in GOD as we know it is what has given these Hashmallim the power to Judge us. The criteria probably shift depending on your religious flavor.” Jeff speculated. “But, to be honest I really can’t say anything specific about that. The Hashmallim we saw really seemed alien to me.”

That we could agree on. It seemed to me that the easiest solution we could push for would be to try to give the Angels a leg up on the Demons, keep them both out of the Native American spaces, and just hope we were up to snuff the next time we came across a Hashmallim.

We’d probably start with the cracked out Angels tomorrow.

Ch.9 Athena's Gift

2008-12-20T10:42:00.000-08:00

Chapter 9

“Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome together, yield themselves up when taken little by little”- Plutarch

Sister Marta was much easier to deal with. She seemed happy to be in her own little world across from the Church. We were put on the fourth floor with a promise to direct Jeff to us when he came looking. She also expressed thanks for not bringing Sister Agnes along, confiding that some of the nuns secretly called her Sister Angry…

I don’t know what this building used to be, but luxurious was not likely. It had wooden floors and big windows. The apartment was one of six on the women’s floor. So far, we had it to ourselves.

The living room had a couch with a fold out bed, a table and an old recliner. The only bedroom had two sets of bunk beds in it and a dresser. The kitchen was a small galley style and the dining area had a small table with four chairs. Hopefully we wouldn’t be here very long.

“I think the first thing we should do is go down to that tavern on the corner, find out where we should take you so you can get to Michigan.” I said, “If there isn’t a bus line or shuttle I’ll take you myself. How did you get down to Illinois?”

“We rode with some people who were moving to the Retreat. I am not too worried about getting a ride to Michigan,” Jill explained, “things have a way of working themselves out. An opportunity will present itself when the time is right.”

“I do agree about the Tavern though. Let’s leave Jeff a note.” Suzanne put in.
*******************

The Full Stein came complete with a pictographic sign; apparently literacy was a big issue around here. It was a large three-story building about a block from our apartment and the first in a string of taverns leading towards Lake Michigan. We were on the edge of what we dubbed the Drunk District. The streets were filthy and smelled of urine. We didn’t plan to be out after dark.

A cloud of stale cigarette smoke walloped us as we walked in. As did the scent of cooking meat. We found a quiet booth towards the back where we could watch people coming and going. There were about ten others in the tavern with us as well as the bartender.

The bartender didn’t wait tables, so I got our three orders of stew and bread together and went up to order. We were all wine drinkers, as opposed to beer, and were concerned that this establishment wouldn’t have any.

We needn’t have worried. The Stein took great pride in the microbreweries and vintners in this region. We actually got an entire bottle of a Michigan Riesling to ourselves. It was more syrupy than any of us liked, but we weren’t going to complain.

Much to Jill’s relief, this was also the place to replenish her dwindling tobacco supply.
It was dark, with burn marks on the tables, bar and floor. But it was also comfortable. It had an old style wooden back bar with a mirror, both polished to within an inch of their lives. The bartender, John, was also easy on the eyes.

We all had a glass of wine in us when we went up to get our food and were feeling chatty. Bartender John seemed to anticipate this and laid on the charm. We decided to eat at the bar. He was absolutely going to get a nice tip. It turns out, none of us had been effectively flirted with in at least two years, and it was flattering. He fixed Jill with his liquid blue eyes a few times, and she blushed right on cue. He patted Suzanne’s hand, and she cranked up that endearing smile. He told me he was so happy to have some intelligent company for a change, and I liked him even more. He was a pro and we loved it!

As the second glass of wine settled in, I began to study the people in the bar with us. Two of them seemed to stand out for some reason. I felt like I should be seeing something obvious, but was missing it.

“Jill, you know…those two by the dart board are the only ones drinking beer.” I observed, enlisting Jill and Suzanne in my analysis.

“You’re right. Isn’t that odd?” Jill asked John the bartender.

“Oh, most of my customers drink wine. I do think that is a bit odd. It’s always been that way for some reason, but even more so in the last few years.” John replied, wiping down the taps.

A couple close to the booth we started out in seemed to be ill. Their hands were shaking, eyes darting around. They really reminded me of crackheads. The rest of the bar seemed to be giving them some distance.

“What’s wrong with that couple back there?” I asked John in a low voice. “Maybe we can help, the Parish down the street has a detox program.”

“Some people you just can’t help.” John said with a sad edge to his voice. “They made some bad choices and now they are paying the price. Believe it or not, this is the detox program for them.”

I wasn’t sure how that made any sense, but John seemed pretty sure of his assessment. He probably saw a lot of people that were beyond his means to help.

Come to think of it. Everyone but the two by the dartboards seemed to be keeping a casual watch on the two crackheads. It was very low key and subtle, but I noticed it because it was exactly what I did for Jill and Suzanne when they went to the restroom.

Something was nagging at the back of my mind. I was missing something important. It was beginning to worry me.

When John stepped away to refill the beer pitcher for the dart players I told Jill and Suzanne about my paranoid thoughts. They didn’t blow me off outright, but clearly the wine was making us all unnaturally at ease in the company of strangers.

We all looked into the large mirror of the back bar, thinking it would be more polite than turning around and staring at people. Everyone but the dartboard people was staring right at us.
“Uh oh.” Suzanne said in a low voice as we all ducked our heads, trying to look like we hadn’t noticed.

“Time to go.” I said rummaging in my jacket…my jacket pockets… “Oh crap!”

With shaking hands I laid out more than enough money to pay our bill as I slowly turned in my seat. We were sunk. There was no way we could make it to the door in time. In fact two bar patrons were moving towards the door now, as they put on their trench coats.

Yes, I said trench coats. Everyone except the dartboard people had trench coats either on them or hanging on the back of the chairs. Come to think of it, they were all pretty tall as well.

John had moved back behind the bar, I could hear him collecting the money.

“Let’s not make a fuss, ladies.” He said in a calm voice, I felt his hand grip my shoulder like a vise. “We really only need to have a word with Lucy, here.”

My heart pounded. A word he says, I’ll just bet.

The other trench coats began to close in. Jill and Suzanne shrank back towards me in their seats. I was effectively immobilized by the death grip on my shoulder but I began to reach for the nine in my jacket pocket.

The front door opened, with a blinding flash of sunshine. Jeff strolled in, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.

“Hey ladies. What’s…” Jeff’s voice trailed off as he began to comprehend the scene before him.

The two trench coats on the door each took an arm, marching Jeff in our general direction.

They had us all lined up on the barstools, each facing our very own Demon Touched. Suzanne and Jill seemed mesmerized and subdued. Jeff fought against the trench coats holding him, but he too eventually calmed.

“She isn’t like them. But she isn’t part of our agenda either. Bring her to the back, also the Doulos.” A muscular dark haired trench coat ordered, after looking me in the eye for several seconds.

I hoped that Jill and Suzanne would make a break for it while everyone’s attention was on Jeff and I. But they placidly gazed ahead.

“Don’t worry about your friends.” John said as I was hauled away. “I’ll take care of them.”

Wonderful.
*************************

Jeff and I were taken to a back room very much like the Mafia back rooms on TV. It was spare with a single bare bulb hanging over a card table with folding chairs. The muscular dark haired guy seemed to be in charge.

Jeff was brought in under the light so he could be scrutinized more carefully. Maybe we had made it onto some kind of Demon most wanted list. The Coats seemed most interested in Jeff’s tattoos. They apparently held some sort of significance.

“This one is indeed a Doulos. How curious.” The leader observed. “I wonder what he is doing with you?”

He was looking at me. I wasn’t going to answer and I looked away. I heard a chair scrape on the concrete floor and the leader was standing in front of me before I could even register his movement.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head around so I was facing him. I was beginning to get angry.

“Jeff! Snap out of it and do something!” I yelled as loud as I could, visibly startling everyone. They looked at each other and then over to Jeff, who seemed to be coming around.

“You WILL be silent.” The leader said equally loud, looking into my eyes.

I didn’t flinch. I’d pat myself on the back later.

“YOU will let us go, you filthy Demon lover.” I yelled back, letting the anger build. When I got loose…

He took a half step back. Again everyone looked bewildered for a moment.

“Lucy, you need to calm down.” Jeff said in a quiet voice. “This isn’t what you think.”

Poor Jeff, I hoped I wasn’t too late to save him. Did he just say my name in front of these guys? What was this Doulos they kept talking about? I started to reach for my nine again. Why hadn’t they searched us?

“I will send you all back to…” was as far as I got before I had a searing pain in my neck. The world faded to black.

It turns out, stun batons hurt pretty badly.

Ch. 8 Athena's Gift

2008-12-13T09:25:00.000-08:00

Chapter 8

“America’s greatest strength, and its greatest weakness, is our belief in second chances, our belief that we can always start over, that things can always be made better.”-Anthony Walton

Jill and Jeff took the first driving shift. Not that shifts were working very well, Suzanne and I were wide-awake. With no National Guard presence, we just felt the need to be very organized.
As we got to the Paxton checkpoint we could see smoke rising out of the burned out hulk of the fuel station. There had been a raid in the night, and someone’s truck had crashed into a set of pumps. I thought I saw a bloody puddle across the entrance drive to the station and I tried to erase the image of a child’s shoe at the edge of the puddle as we pulled onto the Interstate.

We were between herds, a large group of five vehicles ahead of us and about three behind us. Everyone seemed comfortable with the formation and we stayed that way for about half an hour. As our padding of distance between herds began to erode we decided to speed up and get ahead of the mob. The herd cars thought they were safer in a large group, but we believed that maneuverability was more important. We let all of the vehicles we passed see our guns, and they let us go on our way.

We had just passed the Kankakee exit when we could see about four off road motorcycles pull up onto the road, shooting the tires out of a small red car ahead of us. We immediately slowed and pulled off to the side. The black sedan behind us honked when we slammed on our brakes, and then sailed right past us. We tried to wave them down, but they ignored us. There was about a hundred-yard space between us.

As we watched, two of the motorcyclists parked and began yelling at the occupants of the downed red vehicle. One of the riders fired a shot into the air. The other rider slowed and began to sight in on the black sedan, thinking to nail two vehicles. The black sedan tried to speed past them once they realized they were in trouble.

One of the tires blew on the sedan and it spun out of control, clipping one of the motorcycles. The rider of the mangled bike flew off and landed on a piece of metal fencing. He wasn’t moving.

“Suzanne, I am going to move us up. When I get out, I want you to take the wheel. Be ready to swoop in and get us. Jill, you stay with Suzanne. Shoot anything that looks like it might take out the car.” Jeff crept the car forward, honking the horn.

“Be sure to watch around you. This could be a bigger ambush than it looks like.” I said. Getting my 14 gage loaded up, and loading Jill’s 20.

Suzanne already had her shiny new-to-her Colt Python 357 out and across her lap. I really hoped she didn’t have to fire that thing. She was quite a sight target practicing in the back yard.
Jill was less than thrilled about having the guns out. That worried me.

Jeff flung his door open and stepped out; Jill did the same allowing me to get out behind her. Jeff and I immediately brought our rifles to bear on the scene ahead of us.

The three moving motorcyclists seemed uncertain of us. They clearly wanted to get this done before tangling with us. Gesturing to shoot the occupants of the red car, one of them in a blue helmet started to track a male passenger as he opened the door to run.

The would be shooter dropped as Jeff and I both shot him. The other two returned fire in a haphazard manner, trying to get their motorcycles turned around to escape.

I shot the motorcycle that presented the widest target first and then waited for the other guy to turn his. He didn’t cooperate and another idea formulated in my mind as the guy with the disabled bike started to climb on the back of his friend’s bike.

Jeff and I walked behind the open doors of the Vega as Suzanne crept forward with it. I kept my eye firmly on the panicked pair riding the last motorcycle.

When they had gone far enough into the tall weedy hillock that coming back on foot wouldn’t be easy, I sighted in and shot the bike twice. While it went down I took a moment to reload and stepped away from the door.

Jeff was intent on the passengers of the sedan and the little red car. Jill was yelling something at me, but I couldn’t hear her. I was lost in my own concentration and desire to get rid of these parasites. I was….angry!

The cyclists got back up, kicking the dead bike in frustration. I watched the first one go for the gun he had dropped, calmly waiting for my shot. As he reached down, I shot his arm, just above the wrist. No gun for you…

The other attacker already had his gun and was sighting down on me. As I took my time trying to sight on his legs, his head rocked back to the crack of a rifle behind me.

“Not today, Sunshine!” Jill said in a dark voice, she still had a cigarette between her lips. “You want me to shoot the other one?”

He was howling in pain and running off.

“No, no. I think his ambushing career is over. We should try to retrieve all of the guns and ammo though.” I said, surprised at the coldness in her manner.
***************

Jill smoked like I’ve never seen anyone smoke before. She had a steady ranting conversation with herself that would have made that angry Irish comedian proud. In the end, she agreed that other people would have died if she hadn’t done something.

She and Suzy made the rounds picking up guns and ammo from the fallen. The guy on the fence post had been impaled through the abdomen and bled out, he probably hadn’t woken up to feel a thing.

The air bags had deployed on the black sedan, but the overall damage was minimal and cosmetic. With some help from the people in the little red car we got it pushed out of the ditch and the tire changed. It turns out that the couple in the sedan only lived about ten minutes away in Manteno. The young woman was visibly pregnant, so we decided to send them on their way before anything else happened. But, not before we gave them one of the rifles and a quick shooting/safety lesson.

The little red car contained three seminary students from Notre Dame. They were on their way to a Catholic parish in Chicago to help out with homeless operations. They didn’t have much gas and were concerned that they wouldn’t make it. Finding checkpoint stations that were still operational was becoming difficult.

Several cars had passed us on the road, but none of them slowed down or stopped to help. I couldn’t blame them.

We put one of our extra cans of gas into the tank of the little red car and changed their tire. All they had was a pretty sorry looking donut, so we knew it was going to be tedious travel from here on in. If that donut blew, the threesome was going to be stranded because there simply was no room in the Vega.

These guys, bless their hearts, were the most inept and unprepared group I had come across. First of all, they were starving. So we gave them a bunch of carrots and peanut butter. Not one of them could shoot a rifle, so Jeff took the most likely candidate to the side of the road and got him started. We took care of the gas issue. They were nice enough guys; lets just hope that the fate of the world never rests on their shoulders.

Richard, we’ll call him the smart one of the bunch, had been talking to Jeff during their lesson. Apparently, the Parish boys thought Jeff might be useful. We were all welcome to follow them in, and see if we could stay at the Parish for a while.

To me, that sounded uncomfortably close to unloading Jeff somewhere. I wasn’t prepared for that yet. But, I was outvoted, so we followed Dead Eye Richard down the road.
*********************
I’ve traveled through Chicago before. I’ve spent time in the suburbs. What I was seeing as we switched Interstates and headed for downtown didn’t look much like what I remembered. The crowded together row houses with overlapping roofs were missing a house now and then. The empty spaces looked like blacked out teeth.

The tall concrete barriers between residential neighborhoods and the Interstate were crumbling in places. There were signs of large impacts all over the roads.

The National Guard still maintained a presence here. But they weren’t operating checkpoints anymore. They seemed to be on defensive duty, monitoring traffic from overpasses and other high spaces. They could have blown us off the road at any time, and if we started acting squirrelly I had no doubt they would. Stopping to ask questions just didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.

An hour later, in a dirty garbage strewn area, we pulled into a manned parking garage outside of a gorgeous Gothic style cathedral. The carved facade had a blackened sooty look to it, but nothing could mask the gracefully detailed stonework.

The church ran the parking structure and wouldn’t charge us until we left. Trusting.
We followed Dead Eye, Moe and Curly in the Administrative services door. The guys were welcomed and were requested to meet with the Assistant Priest. We, the Ladies that is, were asked to please have a seat.

The dark corridor had dark wainscoting and dark red industrial grade carpeting. The curtains around the only window were a dark hunter green with ducks, circa 1980. Suzanne, Jill and I looked around for about thirty seconds before we had to roll our eyes at each other.

“I can just imagine the guy that decorated this place…” Jill began.

“And you know it had to be a guy…”I filled in.

“Yeah, but can you imagine the guy that still likes it this way?” Suzanne finished before we started giggling.

“Hm Hmm.” A loud, clearly disapproving female cleared her voice. “I was called in to see to your accommodations for the night.”

She looked us up and down and found us lacking. I think we found the person that still liked the hall decoration.

“I had thought we might find you a spot in the convent, but I can see that won’t be possible.” She sniffed, “I think you will be better suited for the shelter.”

I think we were just insulted. This woman was just like every nun I had ever heard about- stern, judgmental and substantial.

Jill stood up and walked forward, extending her hand. I held my breath.

“Hi, I’m Jill. This is my sister Suzanne and our friend Lucy.” Jill let her hand hang in the air, only inches from the nun. “And you are?”

“Sister Agnes.” The woman appeared flustered at her lapse in manners. Then she seemed to collect herself and the attitude returned. She reluctantly shook Jill’s hand, complete with an internal struggle not to wipe her hands on her skirt.

“Actually, Sister Agnes” Jill began, her hand miraculously unfrozen. “We would prefer it if you could give us the name of a decent hotel close by. We wouldn’t want to take resources away from someone who needs it more than us.”

Robbed of a fearful reaction, Sister Angry informed us that the Church had recently made a building across the street habitable. We would be among the first women to rent rooms there. She assured us that she would inform Jeff of our whereabouts when he came out of his meeting.

“You know. Maybe we should just wait here for him. We can all go over together.” I suggested. Sister Angry’s icy glare made me realize that my suggestions were not appreciated.

“That simply won’t do.” Sister Angry informed me with a sweet smile that didn’t make it up to her eyes.

“We are trying to run a seminary and a convent here. Surely you can understand how your presence might be disruptive.” She explained in slow careful words, as if to a young child.

As we walked across the street we could feel the chill receding behind us.

Ch. 7 Athena's Gift

2008-12-05T11:45:00.000-08:00

Chapter 7

“He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, and he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere” Ali ibn-Abi-Talib

Much to Charlie’s dismay, his electrified perimeter was fried. The switch in the basement was even frozen in the on position. Fortunately, the attached solar cells were still working. Jeff and Charlie stayed in the basement, working on it.

The rest of us were upstairs with my mom, as she fired up the grill. The hog farm next door (a mile away) was still functional so pork was easy to get. Unbelievably, my mom had even started cooking rabbit and venison! I remember the days when chow mein was exotic.

Jill, Suzanne and I went out into the garden to collect some onions and late Morels along the creek that ran through our property.

About an hour later we all sat down to eat pork roast and vegetables. My mom is a great cook.

We spent most of the meal speculating about our visit from the Angels. None of us had the warm loved feeling one would expect from meeting an Angel. Jeff wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just blown in the front window and come in. His protections were designed for Demons, not Angels.

I felt like we had all just dodged a smiting.

It was decided that Jill would speak to the Elders at the Retreat about building a trade outpost at Ten Mile grove in conjunction with my mom and Charlie. The Grove had been abandoned for at least six months, maybe even a year. If the owner showed up again, surely a deal could be worked out. The irony of the Native Americans invading and taking over white man’s land, albeit abandoned, was not lost on us.

Jill and Suzanne were anxious to return to the Retreat, but we decided that we should all probably spend the night here. We wanted to let the Angels move out of the area. The promise of a hot shower and soak in the tub was very convincing.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon planting the tomato and rosemary seedlings that Suzanne had brought to trade. My mom agreed to send back onions, potatoes, carrots and said they could take an onion bag of Morels if they wanted.

Mom and Charlie had not one but two windmills in back of the barn, not visible from the road. They weren’t extravagant with their energy usage, but they weren’t missing out on anything either. At night we resorted to candles though, not wanting to advertise to travelers on the road that we had electricity.

When we got ready to take Jill and Suzanne back, mom packed up a small cardboard box with the fattest earthworms I’ve ever seen. It seems Mom had started a worm farm, and made a pretty good barter living off of it. They were apparently the magic trick to getting a home garden to produce long term.
****************

The drive back to the Retreat was again, surprisingly uneventful. We had a tense moment when we stopped to get fuel at the Paxton checkpoint. There were several groups of people just hanging around the station, I’m sure at least one of them was looking for an easy mark. But today, that wasn’t us.

We dropped Jill and Suzanne off to a very relieved community. The Angels had visited them as well. The stories indicated that Native American communities were not on the Angels original agenda. The Angels had appeared perplexed by the whole thing.

I asked if these were the same scary Angels that had visited us, and was assured that yes they were. It was hard to believe. Apparently, the Illiniwek had invited them to the circle, because they were having a dance! The Angels observed for a moment, but walked out of the community when one of the elder ladies attempted to purify them with some sage smoke. An interesting note- they didn’t do their jumping take off thing until they had stepped outside the community limits. Their skin also didn’t glow as brightly while they were at the circle. Hmmm.

What that told me was that Demons, Demon Touched and Angels could get into and may already be in Native American communities. They just weren’t as strong. The biggest evil and destruction that these communities needed to worry about wasn’t supernatural, it was entirely human. It was a sobering thought. As I reviewed all of the desperate, angry and hate filled people I had come across in the last few years, I realized how precarious the peaceful balance was here.

Jill and Suzanne assured me that vigilance was part of their jobs here. In fact they had a little training course they did for long term residents, to help recognize destructive elements to a society such as theirs. Any groups that had resources had to walk a fine line between human decency and security.

With a promise to return in two days, Jeff and I turned the Vega around heading for my mom’s.

I took Jeff to the checkpoint every day, but the Interstate was still closed. This meant that my mom and Charlie got a lot of extra work done around the house. Charlie and Jeff seemed to hit it off pretty well, and I think Charlie’s laid-back manner took the edge off of Jeff’s personality.
*****************

I actually have three younger brothers. But when things started getting bad travel wise, my mom sent them to my granddad’s house about two hours to the south. She gets letters from them every few months, depending on how the mail is running. I have an Aunt living there too. They seem to be doing all right and promise to come back to visit when the road situation settles down.

We were a very fortunate family! Most of the people I knew had either lost someone outright to death or illness, or were suffering a slow family breakdown because of forced separation or abandonment. We lost a car. That’s pretty much it. Baby Brother Mike slid off the road last winter, totaled the car, and got picked up by Granddad’s neighbors. Not even a scratch!

As the summer progressed, traffic on the country roads got thinner and thinner. The one clear AM radio station that we could pick up went off the air. We had to rely on Charlie’s network of Ham radio friends for news. They were actually worldwide, but the stories from the East were laced with religious psuedo-logic and difficult to believe. Some reminded me strongly of the old ‘AIDS is a curse God punished the gays with’ rhetoric. Clearly those types of reports were coming from people who were recklessly afraid.

One day, we arrived at the checkpoint to find it was abandoned. Not a soldier in sight. We fueled up the Vega and the spare gas cans. One of the regular groups at the checkpoint had taken over operations of the station and hired a few of the locals to act as guards. We didn’t have much faith that this relative safety would last.

We ferried as much gas as we could from the station to the Grove and my parents. Eventually, enough people realized that the station was unguarded and it was overrun with bickering desperation.

Jeff and I decided that if we were ever going to get to Chicago we had to go now. We could do it on one tank if we didn’t run in to too much trouble. We also asked Jill and Suzanne if they wanted a lift, since they may not get another opportunity to head back toward Michigan. Though the Grove had become their pet project, they accepted readily. We all said good-bye to our friends and the transplanted kittens at the Grove. One of the kids had taken it upon herself to name them Pinky, Dinky, Finky and Stinky.

The Grove Illiniwek were generous with supplies, and Charlie had us armed to the teeth. We also had two simple self-powered homemade ham radios that would turn out to be gold. Ham radio operators were at a premium these days. The satellites that used to provide so much for society proved too difficult to maintain and some were even shot down to avoid catastrophic collisions. And cell towers…it became a double dog dare game for stupid kids to take them down. Then other stupid people would raid them for scrap materials.

Of course, maybe it was really smart Demons…

Ch.6 Athena's Gift

2008-11-30T22:12:00.000-08:00

Chapter 6

“Never let your sense of morals get in the way of doing what’s right”- Isaac Asimov

Eventually and inevitably, Chris sat down with Jeff and I to discuss his plans for the future. I knew that things had changed for us and I think that is why we hadn’t gone the extra twenty miles to get to my mom’s. We knew exactly how we were going to go, and the side roads had been clear for a long time.

Chris felt useful and as if he belonged with our hosts, the Illiniwek. He was a bit of an oddity, considering he clearly didn’t have any Native American heritage whatsoever. But, that criterion wasn’t observed quite as strictly as it may have been in the past. The people here didn’t seem to care so much about bloodlines and percentages. I think having the right attitude and a willingness to be an active part of the community was more important.

In yet another odd twist of irony, Chris was going to join some of the Illiniwek as they set up another community toward the West. They were going to try to reform the Illiniwek branch near Cahokia if they could, using the same model of inclusion that made this camp so successful.

I was disappointed about losing my friend in a purely selfish way. I was very tempted to give in to some blind jealousy concerning his new girlfriend, Anita. But, in the end, I could only wish him the best. He drove off on an ATV, part of a great herd of them, about a month after Jason was laid to rest.

Jeff was also getting antsy. It was time for us to move along as well. I wasn’t sure what my mom had going at her place, but knowing her, I was fairly certain she would become a regular trade destination. When it came time for us to leave, I invited Suzanne and Jill to join us. Jeff had his hands full.

We added some extra bedding and a few seedlings from the garden to the trunk and started the most dangerous leg of our driving journey.

Or not.

The roads weren’t in terrific shape, but we didn’t come across anyone else as we drove along. We found ourselves pulling up alongside Ten Mile Grove about forty-five minutes after we left New Illiniwek Retreat. I was having a nostalgic moment and insisted that we stop and find out if the ponds still held fish.

When I was in high school, we used to come out here every once in a while to fish. The people who owned it raised catfish, bass and bluegill to stock other ponds. We could catch them all day long for a fee, but we had to release them. There was a heavy log chain across the old gravel drive, so we left the car there and walked out on foot.

The place was overgrown and run down, deserted. Route 9 flowed out like a ribbon in front of it. I was surprised that no one had moved in or took over. We walked to the nearest of four ponds, it was scummy and stagnant. It probably had something living in it, but I doubted it was fish. These ponds were supposedly pretty deep, but they’d had aerators when I used to visit. We brushed off an old placard on the path leading to the next pond; it had pictures of the fish to be expected. As we looked I heard the sound of a pump coming to life. We hurried on to the next pond, which appeared much healthier. As we leaned out over the water, several small fish came to the surface, expecting to be fed. We were all pleasantly surprised, and somehow we managed to produce crumbs from crackers and cookies.

After checking the rest of the ponds, we found that at least two still held fish. We found one of the aeration pumps, and it ran off of a solar panel. Maybe we could find the panel for the first pond and see if it just needed wiped off?

The sky was beginning to cloud up so we decided to sit on the side of a pond for a moment before we left again.

Days like this were to be treasured, I had learned. We got a little wrapped up in talking about a fish trade between Ten Mile Grove and the Retreat. We never noticed the heavy fast moving clouds coming at us from the north.

A distant rumbling finally pulled us from our wild speculations. The air had taken on that peculiar greenish cast that people in tornado zones are familiar with. I assured everyone that we had plenty of time; we could walk to my mom’s from here.

Of course, Jill wasn’t having that. She started getting our stuff together and headed for the Vega.

It was a good thing she did. I’ve never seen clouds roll up that fast before. They had a strange stacked up look to them and the light turned almost sepia toned. All of the colors became some form of muted dirty browns. We could clearly see lightning in the upper layers, not yet striking the ground.

Jeff and I exchanged worried glances, nervously expecting some new and incredible threat.

“I don’t think we can chalk this up to Mother Earth.” Suzanne observed, sliding into the back seat of the Vega.

“I wish we had stayed at the Retreat now. Maybe we should think about going back.” Jill said pointedly.

“I think we just need to get to my mom’s. This storm is moving too fast. We won’t make it to the Retreat.” I said looking out the passenger side. I thought I could see things flying around in the clouds. I craned and twisted around in my seat as we got back on Rt 9.

“Look up Suzanne, do you see something in the clouds?” I asked. Jill leaned over and they both looked out the window, trying to see.

An audible collective gasp occurred as we saw them. They looked like giant bird skeletons. They were so far away it was hard to tell how big or any good details about them. We could only see the bones during the flash of lightning, like an x-ray. Their aerial dodging and weaving was clearly moving closer to us.

We flew around a set of wide curves and I pointed out my old home. My mom was outside on the front porch at the top of the hill, watching the approaching storm. She cast a nervous glance at us as we pulled in the driveway, so I lowered my window so I could wave to her to.

We pulled around the driveway curve to the garage; it was under the house as part of a walk out basement. Charlie, mom’s husband, met us at the door. We grabbed our bags and hustled inside and up the stairs so we could watch through the large front window.

Obviously, mom and Charlie were glad to see me and wanted to meet everyone. But my tone and Jeff’s agitation convinced them that we needed get ourselves situated before the storm hit. We pointed out the things flying around in the clouds and Charlie disappeared into the basement to gather rifles and pistols of all sorts. He also said something about electrifying the perimeter. I didn’t ask, I just prayed none of us found out about that particular gadget the hard way.

Jeff pulled out his chalk, but it wasn’t working very well on the carpet, and we decided that we didn’t want to be in front of a glass picture window in case it got broken.

So we moved the circle to the kitchen. Jeff and my mom worked on it together as the rest of us gave regular storm updates. A great gust of wind drove leaves from the trees and flattened some of the weeds along the road, followed by a sprinkling of pea sized hail. We looked for rotation and hooks but didn’t see any. I think that made it worse; tornado’s we were familiar with, we could handle.

Jeff moved throughout the living room, dining room and kitchen making notations in his foreign script on the walls. It was a curious mix of symbols and text reminiscent of the Demon writing at the hotel, only Jeff’s didn’t make my skin crawl when I looked at it. In the midst of all of this I had a moment of pride in my mom and Charlie, neither of them even looked like complaining about a strange scary man writing on their floors and walls! I could only guess that they had their own disturbing tales to tell and I felt a pang of remorse that I hadn’t been around to help them.

Just as Jeff finished up writing something on the front door a brilliant flash nearly blinded us. When our sight returned, we could see three figures on the road in front of the hill that was our front yard, about fifty feet from the house. They looked human, as opposed to Demon, but again they were very tall and lanky.

They seemed to jump from the road about fifteen feet into the yard. The ground had buckled where their feet touched and the house shook. They seemed to be experimentally walking towards us. After the first few ginger steps they seemed to settle into walking and strode right up to the picture window.

We were utterly terrified. These things were anything but human. Their skin emitted a glow like over exposed photos, obscuring some of the fine details. They seemed to be wearing simple tunics over leggings, in a shade of white I’ve never seen before. Most startling were their eyes. They had no color, no iris, no pupils. We couldn’t be sure who or what they were looking at.

Jill, Suzanne and my mom were trying to draw us into the kitchen, to get in the circle. I was tempted, but one of the things had turned its attention to me and I was rooted in place. I turned my head and saw that Jeff and Charlie had the same problem; they seemed hypnotized by these things. Charlie didn’t even have his rifle up.

“Get in the kitchen ladies.” I said, bringing my rifle up to bear. Did that really just come out of my mouth?

The creature that had been holding Charlie’s gaze seemed to snap out of it, swinging its stare to me. I heard Charlie’s sharp intake of breath, he had a bewildered look on his face. I kept waiting for Jeff to tell us what to do, but he seemed to be dazed.

“Charlie,” I barked, a little too loudly. “Go to the kitchen, tell everyone to stay in the circle, don’t talk to anyone outside the circle and don’t look at these things, look at the floor or each other.”

Two of the creatures moved up to my spot along the picture window. I took a step forward as well. I didn’t want to instigate any aggression, but I wanted them to know that they couldn’t take us without a fight either. I said a silent prayer that they didn’t just bust through the window.

“Jeff,” I whispered. “JEFF!”

No answer. Great!

The three things broke off the stare down. They seemed to be coming to some sort of conclusion about us. I did NOT want these things to get in here!

“Let’s go outside. Better to do this out there than in here with everyone else.” Jeff said quietly behind me. “We aren’t going to win this one.”

Oh, even better!
********************

I took a step towards the door, and the things turned sharply to follow me. I just kept walking, Jeff in tow. I quickly yanked the door open and stepped through, rifle up. I heard Jeff close the door behind us.

I nearly landed on my backside. The things moved so quickly I couldn’t track them. Suddenly, they were just inches from me. One of them had a hand on my rifle. It crushed the barrel in its hand before yanking it out of my grasp and tossing it about half a mile into the field across the road.

“&$^#@%@%,” It began, in a jarring discordant voice that nearly brought me to my knees, “….have already been judged worthy, you may leave us.”

“I am with her. I won’t leave her. She is also worthy.” Jeff answered. WTF?

“She is…” it began again, seeming to search for the right word, “ not under our…”

“Purview…Jurisdiction…Abomination” the words rang out from all three. I closed my mouth. There it was again, that abomination word.

They turned to look at each other, clearly having some sort of silent debate about me.

“Worthy of what?” I asked simply. Then immediately regretted it, wishing I could make myself small, make myself small…

The weight of their collective stares was overwhelming. I began to shake. I managed a peek at Jeff, who looked pale and waxy. I’ve never seen his confident veneer falter before.

“The Abomination is deemed…Not Evil” they voiced collectively, “We shall let it pass.”

Ohhh, thank God!! My legs turned to very relieved jelly as I sagged into Jeff. The creatures turned to the East. They each planted a foot in unison, the Earth trembled with the force and the pavement on the walk cracked where one of them had stepped. They seemed to spring up and forward, so fast that once again we couldn’t track them. But I heard them when they landed, that same Earth shaking tremor as when they arrived in my front yard.

“Holy Crap!” I let out. “What were those?”

“Not Holy Crap, that’s for certain.” Jeff answered, sounding mighty relieved himself, “I believe those were the good guys, Angels.”

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Jeff turned around and opened the door for me.

Ch.5 Athena's Gift

2008-11-28T09:55:00.000-08:00

Chapter 5

“Force without wisdom falls of its own weight” - Horace

Jill met us on the steps of the back porch, cigarette in hand. I kept waiting for a bottle of whiskey to appear in her other hand to complete the picture.

She stubbed out her smoke carefully and ushered us inside.

“This is where our medical facility is housed, such as it is. If you have any drugs, over the counter or otherwise to spare we would really appreciate a donation.” She said as she walked briskly toward the living room area. Seated on an old floral couch in a sunny room was another woman, we would come to know as Suzanne. They were sisters who had come down from Michigan to help get this site off the ground. Suzanne had the same air of self-confidence that her marked her, more than anything else, as Jill’s sister.

“Suzanne is our Medicine Woman until we get someone trained to take over. We have a guy who was in Med school before he came here, but he hasn’t fully come to terms with our methods for healing. Hopefully we can get him turned around so we can get back home to Michigan.”

Jill sat down next to her sister. Suzanne poured out six small cups of fragrant tea and passed them around. The room was uncomfortably quiet. Suzanne looked me directly in the eye as she handed me my tea. I was taken aback at the intensity of her study; she had a momentary pause before moving on to Jeff.

She paused again when she got to Jason, and leaned over to whisper something to Jill.

“Excuse me.” Jill said as she got up to leave the room.

“We are so glad that you were able to stay for a while.” Suzanne began, smiling at us warmly. “What will you be doing during your stay with us?”

“We were just about to sort that out I think.” I responded, “What do you need done?”

“Well, we always have something to be done. There is a maintenance list posted at the back of the large pole barn, but mostly people just see a need and fill it. What are you good at?” She asked encouragingly, looking at Jason.

“Jason is a great mechanic!” I volunteered, Jason just nodded his head. A bead of sweat trickled down his face near his ear. “And we can help with your windmills if they need anything. I love to garden and wouldn’t mind spending some time in the fields if I could.”

I was fairly gushing. The guys looked as if they might try to get a word in, but I wasn’t having it. I was compelled to tell it all if I could.

“And Jeff has a really important talent. He can deal with Demons and Demon Touched. It’s amazing even if it is a little hard to believe.” I continued, in spite of flags going up in my mind and an evil glare from Jeff.

Suzanne turned her smile on me and looked over to Jeff. She turned it up a few watts for him, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, it sounds crazy when she puts it like that.” He began, clearly on the verge of a lengthy babble.

Jill came back with an older gentleman. He looked to be about ninety and half blind, with a severe tremor. She helped him to sit next to Suzanne.

“Jason, would you please scoot your chair forward.” Jill said as she began to slide the coffee table from between Jason and Suzanne. She gave Chris a nod and he jumped up to help her.

I was sooo tempted to ask what was going on. But at the same time, I had a lump forming in my throat that I couldn’t seem to speak around. A sudden wave of dread threatened to overtake me.

Jeff got up and walked over to me. He took my hand and my heart began to pound in an ominous fashion.

“Chris, why don’t you sit down over here with me.” Jill directed, indicating that he should take the chair she had just moved to her side of the room.

“Umm, sure…” an unspoken question hanging in the air.

All attention was focused on Suzanne, the old man and Jason. The room fell silent as Suzanne and the old man reached out and took Jason’s hands. After a moment the old man turned to Suzanne and said something to her in a quiet raspy voice. He sat back on the couch and stared ahead with all the patience in the world.

“Jason, I think that you have something to say. I think you have something you need to say.” Suzanne said calmly, watching Jason carefully.

Jason gripped the arms on his chair, but he didn’t look away, didn’t say anything. Suzanne flicked a glance at me, and I stilled my swirling thoughts. Everything in the room came into sharper focus and my breathing sounded loud in my ears.

“It’s okay Jason.” Suzanne tried again, in a reassuring voice. “You’ll feel better when it’s done.”

“Please,” Jason began, a pleading tremble in his voice. He looked over his shoulder at me. The look of anguish on his face was heartbreaking. “Please Lucy.”

Oh God. Whatever you need Jason, tell me what you need…

“Jason, tell her what you want. She needs to hear you say it.” Suzanne was firm this time.

“Lucy…let me go.” He said in a small voice.

I felt like someone had hit me in the face with a sledgehammer. My head rocked back and I experienced a blinding pain behind my eyes.

“Ask again Jason.” Suzanne said.

“Lucy, you have to let me go. I can’t stay with you.” Jason said in a stronger voice, dripping with regret and guilt.

Jeff moved behind me and gripped my shoulders, keeping me from dropping to my knees.

Before my eyes a strand of...something…materialized. It stretched blackly between Jason and me. I could feel the tension on it, about to break.

“What? What is it?” the panic edging into my voice was palpable. I had a sudden urge to go to Jason and breathe into his face. I was confused and I shrieked out “What is it, what’s happening?”

“Lucy, let Jason go. It’s past his time. He doesn’t belong here with us anymore. I’m sorry honey, but you have to let GO!” Suzanne yelled out.

So I did.

Words can’t describe the sense of loss and abandonment. I suddenly just knew what my brain hadn’t been letting me see, and it was crushing me. Jason was gone. He had been gone since the hotel in Danville. And though I couldn’t fathom how, he had stayed among us through some feat of my will.

Through the streaming tears I saw Jason slump forward in his chair. Chris jumped forward trailing Jill behind him. He was in a confused rage, yelling and trying to wake Jason up. He turned an angry glare on me and I had to look away. I couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in my own head and strangely, the beat of Jeff’s heart as he held me.

Jeff moved me out of the room and outside to the back porch. He didn’t say anything, just held me. A few minutes later Jill and Chris came out and proceeded towards our tents. Chris didn’t even glance at me and part of me was relieved. Suzanne sat down on the step next to us and reached out a hand to try to comfort me. She said something to Jeff, but I was lost in my own despair and didn’t hear it. I realized that the broken sobs were coming from me.
*******************

I think it actually took me two days to stop crying. I was so dehydrated that I didn’t have any tears left. Jeff and Chris must have taken care of the arrangements. All I remember is Jeff coming in to ask me if I knew of any religious preferences Jason had. That pushed me into a new round of wracking sobs because in spite of knowing Jason for half my life, I had no idea what religious beliefs he held. I am sure I wasn’t much help with anything.

To make matters worse, everyone was of the opinion that I shouldn’t be near Jason again. I knew in my heart that whatever bond we had was broken and I couldn’t repair it. But the people around me were nervous. Jeff and I had a long talk about it and he finally convinced me that I was better off just remembering Jason the way he was before we started this horrific trip. So, I missed his funeral service and I never went to visit his grave. Part of me felt like I wasn’t paying the respect that Jason had more than earned in his life.

Everyday Chris and Jeff went out to make themselves useful. They worked on the windmills, they helped with meal preparation and hunting and occasionally Chris went out to the highway with the watchers to sit in folding chairs.

I, on the other hand, stayed in the tent. Time flew past and I was oblivious. I’ve never slept so much in my life. Chris and Jeff brought me food. Chris was over his initial anger, but something had shifted between us. He seemed somehow older.

I woke up a few times with Jeff asleep next to me. He always got up and walked with me to the latrines or to get something to drink.

After about a week of this I heard Jill and Suzanne outside the tent calling to me. I reluctantly sat up and opened the flaps. It was a grey drizzly day and I was in full wallow.

“We just came to check on you. We are a little worried about your mental health Lucy.” Suzanne called out, smiling when I poked my head out of the door.

“Yeah, you’re scaring people.” Jill added, also smiling but getting more to the point. “We thought it was time you came out of there and became part of our community.”

They had brought a picnic basket with them, so I cleared up my extra blanket and we sat down out of the rain. We had a nice talk, us girls. I had a tendency to just run off at the mouth when Suzanne was around. Before long we were laughing about the men around us and we had polished off all of the food. I must have had fifty visits from other people, dropping in to introduce themselves. Most of them brought small offerings of tobacco with them; two of the young girls brought me woven bracelets that I wore with pride. I knew that this was some sort of staged ritual engineered by Jill or Suzanne, but I did feel curiously better and welcome. We ended with an invitation to take a meal with the rest of the community later in the dining hall and an appointment in the garden with Suzanne the following morning.

It turned out that Jeff’s muscles were far more valuable than his Demon fighting skills. Apparently Mother Earth held more sway here in the community than Demons or Angels ever would. Yes, I said Angels. There had been sightings and even run-ins with them in the surrounding towns. It didn’t sound like Angels to me, but then not much surprised me anymore. At any rate, a haven from Demons was a good thing to know about.

Everyone was under the impression that Jeff and I were a pair. Jeff didn’t say anything to the contrary and I just couldn’t be bothered. Sometimes it’s just easier to let people believe what they wanted.

I learned some basic herbalism from Suzanne and surprised her with some knowledge of my own. She was with me when we came across a mother cat giving birth just under the edge of the pole barn. She had three tiny kittens and was pushing out the fourth. The poor thing was about to wilt when the last one dropped. She went to clean it but became agitated. It wasn’t moving as much as the others or making any noises.

I felt an inexplicable wave of instinct take hold. I picked the fading kitten up and blew sharply into its face. It tensed up and then relaxed, drooping. I blew again, harder. It tensed and hiccupped. Then it rolled its head as I blew again. It drew in a breath, hiccupping. It began to writhe around as the mother paced worriedly around me.

I put the kitten back down with its mother. As I looked up I saw that Suzanne had been studying me.

“That’s quite a gift you have.” She said quietly, a measuring look in her eye.

“Yeah, you know that’s how you get babies to take a breath when they cry so hard they don’t take a breath.” I said, trying to brush it off.

“I am not talking about the knee jerk reaction when you blow in a baby’s face.” Suzanne said pointedly. “ I am talking about whatever allows you to bridge between life and death. That kitten wasn’t dead when you picked it up, but it was going to be very soon. I could see a line extend from you to the kitten when you blew on it.”

“It’s gone now,” she said as she saw me struggling to see it. “ You aren’t even aware of it are you?”

“No, but I thought I saw something when Jason…” I let the thought trail off.

“Jason wasn’t the same. The closest thing I can compare to Jason is, and I am sorry I am so ignorant on the subject, zombies.”

“Zombies!” If I didn’t know better I would have been insulted.

“It isn’t like in the movies. The older guy that came in to our interview knows more about this sort of thing, but I could tell right off that something wasn’t right with Jason. People have what the New Agers call Auras. Jason’s Aura wasn’t alive, and it had an oily black coating on it. The black was probably from the Demon.” Suzanne explained, “ Anyway, when zombies are made, they keep the personality and memories they had in life for a short time, slowly degenerating until someone puts them to rest. There is obviously more to it than that, but that is the extent of my knowledge. I didn’t realize that a zombie could be created the way you did.”

Neither did I.

Ch.4 Athena's Gift

2008-11-27T06:50:00.000-08:00

Chapter 4

"The belief in a supernatural source for evil is not necessary; men alone are capable of every kind of wickedness" - Joseph Conrad

We rolled into Champaign Illinois about five hours later. That was one of the longest drives I think I’ve ever been on. The scenery outside of Danville is kind of pretty, with rolling hills and trees. But after that it is flat! Flat, flat, flat. Few trees and blocky homes in the distance. It was just as well I guess, we really needed all of our attention on the road and the drivers around us. There were giant craters and potholes big enough to lose small children in. But that wasn’t the worst.

The worst was the line of people on foot at the side of the road. I’ve seen movies where foreign cities were evacuated, and this looked very much like them. I saw a mob swarm over a mini van that had pulled over to the side, probably thinking to take on a passenger. The two men inside were pulled out, beaten and left while about twenty people fought over the van. It lurched forward a few times, and then there was a gunshot. About five people baled out, a body was rolled out and the van tore off into the distance ahead.

We saw that van again about fifteen minutes later, just before the next checkpoint. Its front end was lodged in a crater and the back tires were off the ground. The only way around was to drive in the grass past the shoulder. It was a tricky tense moment; we had to balance slowing down with moving fast enough that the pedestrians didn’t get any ideas.

I thought about George and Irene and their kids. I hadn’t seen them again and knew that they probably hadn’t gotten out of the hotel. As far as I could tell we were the only survivors. Still, I looked inside every red mini van we passed.
***********

It was cool at night, but we decided to camp instead of looking for rooms in Champaign. Camping areas had sprung up along the sides of Interstates, down from the exit ramps. You took a chance when you did it, but after our last town experience we decided it was better than getting stuck in Champaign.

Champaign-Urbana was a big University town. It was exceptionally diverse for this part of the country. In retrospect, I think that had a lot to do with the relative normalcy. We easily found a bazaar area and got some basic supplies for the night. I even found some henna.We set up our tents on the north I57 exit coming off of I74. This should be the last leg of our journey that we could take Interstates for. My mom lived about five miles outside of Paxton, on route 9. That would be the most dangerous bit of driving.

Most of the horror stories about driving on non- interstates outside of cities involved carloads of people going missing. They just disappeared, no one heard or saw from them again. I personally believed that a lot of the missing vehicles were just fine. They got to their destinations and then didn’t let anyone know that they had arrived safely. Communication wasn’t an easy task anymore. You couldn’t just whip out your cell phone or send an email.

Some of the stories about back roads were more problematic. Apparently there was a large KKK contingent in this part of the country at one time in our history. The descendents had banded together and made it their business to ethnically cleanse our society one questionable carload at a time.

We also had small time pirates to contend with, the ones not organized well enough to take on the Interstate system yet. Who knew what other crazies were out there?
*********************

So, we had two tents. I had given up worrying about sleeping arrangements a long time ago, but that was before Jeff came into the picture. Suddenly I had this overblown sense of propriety. I couldn’t be expected to sleep in a tent with A Guy! Fortunately, the guys decided on a shift system sparing me from sleeping in a tent with any of them.

I squashed down the nagging sense of disappointment and went to sleep.

Jason came in and woke me up four hours later. It was about 2 AM and chilly, so I wrapped my extra blanket around me. I could see a few other fires going in the camps around us, but most were banked for the night.

“Lucy.” Jeff nodded at me, handing me a mug of tea.

“Jeff.” I nodded back, pulling out a tin of dry hard cookies. You know the ones specifically designed to sit on a little old lady’s kitchen table for years. Not nutritionally sound, but filling.

“So, how many of the people around us here are not really people?” I began the conversation for the night.

“All of them,” Jeff said calmly as I choked on a raspberry jelly filled shortbread. He patted me on the back. “I was just kidding. You gotta learn to relax woman.”

I took a gulp of tea, surprisingly sweet. I couldn’t help but smile.

“What is this? Do we have sugar?” I asked, taking another sip.

“It called African Red Tea. Not really tea in the traditional sense, but tasty nonetheless. I got it and a bottle of honey in the bazaar yesterday.” He answered me.

“Funny, I didn’t figure you for a tea guy.” I needled him a bit.

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises. Just like you.” He saluted me with his mug. “Jason seems to be recovering nicely. He isn’t eating though, have you noticed?”

“I guess not. He hasn’t said much since the incident in Danville. Is that normal for people who have had a run in with demons?” I asked, a worried feeling starting in the pit of my stomach.

“Demon possession, even a minor case of it isn’t a natural state for humans. We should just give him a little time.” He patted my hand reassuringly, “I spoke to him a little before he got you up. He doesn’t remember anything after he went into the sulfur cloud in the hotel until he woke up in the office at the club. It’s probably best to keep it that way. Let him come to you when he gets ready to talk about it.”

“Oh. Alright then.” I said behind my mug. I was a little miffed that Jason was talking to Jeff and not me in the first place. But, I guess Jeff had been the only one up.

“You know, we all got really lucky in Danville. I am shocked that we survived.” There was a hanging pause, as if he was trying to decide how to say something. “This is probably a sign of things to come. Have you thought about what you are going to do in Paxton when and if the Demons show up there?”

“First of all, I don’t know what the Demons could possibly want in Paxton. And if they do manage to get out to my mom’s place, well, I guess we’ll just deal with it then. Maybe we should have you put some circles down or something.” I said.

“I don’t think I am going to be staying with you in Paxton.” What was that!? Of course he was staying with us, how would we survive the Demons? “ I really need to be in a larger city where I can do more good. I am thinking of going to Chicago.”

“Oh.” I felt really let down. “How will you be getting there?”

“Well, I thought I might show you how to build some of the barriers in Paxton. Teach you a few things. But ultimately, if I can spend some time at the Paxton checkpoint I can probably catch a ride with someone or get on a shuttle.” He seemed to sense my panic. “You are really going to have to figure out how you will survive on your own.”

“I know, and I am very grateful that you are going to take some time to help us learn how to do what you do.” I said, maybe he will decide he wants to stay after all.

“What if…you had to get by without any of us?” he asked. “I mean, what if all of us were gone tomorrow? What would you do?”

“First of all, that’s not going to happen.” I was getting testy. “And, I would be fine. It isn’t an ideal scenario, but I would figure it out.”

“I believe you would.” He said thoughtfully. “But you’re right. Chances are that your group will be together for a long time.”

“Hmmm.” I couldn’t determine where he was going with that. But, I didn’t like it.

We passed the rest of the shift watching the limited night traffic and people in the camps around us. There were a few visits from our neighbors, mostly looking to barter or for news. We skirted discussing Demon infestations with them, instead putting a human spin on events in Danville. It wouldn't do to be ignored as an outright quack if the object was to prevent innocent people from stumbling into Danville. So the Demon touched became a gang that wore trench coats and the Demons themselves became some vague chemical weapon that smelled of sulfur and was to be avoided at all costs.

In return we were warned off of going south on I57, it was shut down at the Tuscola checkpoint indefinitely. Apparently a wave of unprecedented violence in the southern end of the state was just too much.

As the sun came up, Chris stumbled blearily back to the camp. He clearly had more fun than I did, I hadn’t even realized he was gone. In a bizarre ritual of absolution, going back to our high school years, he presented me with a pair of sunglasses. They were cheap pink plastic, put they worked well enough. It’s good to be queen!
***************

We were herded off the Interstate upon approach to the Rantoul checkpoint. In fact, the whole road was blocked off. This wasn’t good…

We were directed to yet another giant overflowing parking lot. Having learned from our last experience though, we chose to drive on towards downtown Rantoul. We could be stuck in one of those parking lots for days once our names got on a list.

We drove past old vacant fast food restaurants and gas stations until we hit a residential area. Clearly it used to be a well to do area, but its proximity to the Interstate had caused the owners to vacate. We pushed on a little further, knowing that between this area and the old downtown was a decent residential area where we could get our bearings.

Pulling over to the side of a shaded tree lined street we decided that we were probably going to have to risk driving the back roads to Paxton. It was only about fifteen miles. We shifted our weapons about within the car, Jeff took the wheel and we made two piles of possible projectiles in case we had to throw things.

As we pulled out of the other side of the ghost town that was once Rantoul, Former Home of Chanute Air Force Base, we saw signs directing us to the New Illiniwek Retreat area. We could only imagine what that meant…

There was an open barricade set up on the road just outside of Rantoul with a group of three people in folding lawn chairs sitting next to it. We slowed down for the barricade and Jeff lowered his window to talk to one of them. They said that they weren’t there to keep anyone from passing. Just to monitor things and help travelers out. That was nice to see. When they heard about the closing of the Interstate they invited us to follow them back to the Retreat. Figuring it was probably pirates; that meant that a pirate presence could be expected on this road, RT 45.

Hunkering down didn’t sound like a bad idea to me. I was curious about this Retreat anyway. We pulled off to the side as the lawn chair people uncovered a hidden ATV pulling a wagon.

Chris didn’t like the idea of stopping again, especially since we were so close. Jason didn’t seem to care one way or the other. I thought this Retreat might prove to be a future resource and Jeff said that we shouldn’t get reckless just because we were close. The truth is, we were all scared of the trip down Rt45. Getting some information before we got underway couldn’t be a bad idea.

We pulled onto a paved road to the left, going towards some railroad tracks. Then just before we reached the tracks it turned into a gravel road, we crossed the tracks and then followed a dirt path through an overgrown field across a road and through another tended cornfield that became a vegetable garden in the middle. It was very impressive really.

As we came out the other side and across another road we saw some old pole barns, a farmhouse and a large campground in the back yard. We slowly bumped along into the front yard, an area set aside for visitors. The folding chair people asked us to wait there for a moment. A greeter would come out to speak with us shortly. There were signs all around proclaiming that All were welcome here, please show courtesy and respect to Everyone on the premises, if you need something please ask-thieves will no longer be welcome, the chairs under the large blue tarp are for the elderly only.

A tall very tanned woman walked out of the farmhouse towards us. She looked like she was in her forties and she had a calm competent air about her. I liked her immediately.

“The watcher’s told me a little about you and what’s going on. Are you all right? Anyone hurt, anyone hungry?” She asked, genuine concern on her face. Seeing that we weren’t in immediate danger of expiring on the spot she handed us small cloth bundles.

“These are tobacco offerings and sage bundles. It is polite to present the tobacco to the residents here if you ask them for help with anything and you’ll want to mindfully cleanse yourself and your area with the sage smoke once you get settled.” With that, she pulled out a hand rolled smoke that became the first in an amazing chain of them. Her name was Jill and we should park the car off to the side and follow her in.

Ok, I was a little leery of leaving the car parked where we couldn’t see it. So were the guys, but the overall sense of safety here outweighed our doubts.

Jill took us around to the back side of the house, past several other campers waving and smiling at us, past a large empty arena area with a pavilion in the center, past the old people tarp and to an empty patch of land recently vacated by previous campers.

“This is a great spot, I’m a little jealous.” She said, “You have a nice tree and some bushes behind you. Take care that you don’t trample them down. We are in the process of expanding the green area around us, and the smallest sapling or bush is critical. You’ll be able to observe the flow of events from here before you join in. And you should observe first. We have some customs here that we observe that outsiders don’t always get right away.”

“I should probably tell you that we consider ourselves to be part of the Illiniwek tribe of Native Americans. Most of us and probably most of you have ancestral roots within other tribes throughout the country. However, in order to live in the good and traditional way of Native Americans everywhere, we have had to evolve our sense of the word Tribe. The Illiniwek were actually a group of tribes that shared language and customs, and that is true once again. We have had visits from descendents of the old Illiniwek periodically and they have given us their approval I am proud to say.” She paused to light up her sage bundle, “I am just going to purify your area here, watch what I am doing so that you can do the same later.”

The guys and I looked at each other. They seemed as mystified as I did, but willing to keep an open mind.

“Listen, after you get your tents up come back up to the main house. You can stay here as long as you need to, but we would like to figure out what you may be able to do for us in return. Every person here is a drain on the system in some way, so contributions of time, knowledge or items are helpful.” She said turning on her efficient heel and walking off. “I’ll see you in about an hour then.”

I guess we had a schedule! That’s ok, it only took us about 20 minutes to set up. We felt a little overwhelmed; I don’t think any of us had camping in mind when we first started following the folding chair people. But we acclimated to the idea surprisingly quickly. Besides, I had a feeling that when we got ready to leave that these people could tell us how to do it safely.

As we pounded the tent spikes into the ground, a very fit looking gentleman with long dark hair casually walked by, dropping tobacco onto the ground and mumbling something. He nodded his head at us with an almost sheepish grin on his face. I got the distinct impression that he was taking care of something for us that we were too oblivious to see.

“Do you think they would care if you put down one of your circles here?” I asked Jeff.

“Oh, I’m putting one down somewhere. It just might be in the tents instead of out in the open. That’s something we should ask about when we go see Jill again.” He answered, dropping down onto a blanket on the ground in front of our tent. We all joined him a moment later and savored the afternoon sunshine for a few minutes.The air was stirred by a gentle breeze that smelled of dirt, green and tobacco. It was a comforting combination that put us all in a positive mood, allowing the fear and stress to melt off of us. The light murmur of people around us wasn’t intrusive, even when a band of laughing children ran past us.

Ch.3 Athena's Iniquitous Gift

2008-11-26T14:28:00.000-08:00

Chapter 3

"You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you." - Eric Hoffer

Chris and I looked at each other dumbfounded. I pulled out my gun, crouched low and moved to the outside edge of the building, before it met the sidewalk. Chris went to check on Jason before he moved up behind me. The sound of scratching chalk could be heard just barely over the wail of sirens a few blocks away.

The sound of my heart pounding made it impossible to hear anything. I kept telling myself that I had to just pull the trigger- ask questions later. Anyone who is running down the street after us now, or comes around that corner does NOT have our best interest in mind. Right?

I felt Chris breath on my cheek as he knelt to whisper in my ear. He brushed his lips lightly on my face.

Startled, I looked up at him. He looked scared and worried and as if he had come to a decision.
Then he stepped away from me and out onto the sidewalk. A silent ‘No Chris, we’ll get out of this too.’ died on my lips as he took off running to the left. I felt like I had been punched in the gut, and tears misted my eyes.

I blinked them back and covered him as far as I could see him, straining to hear the sounds of Trench Coats. I was promptly rewarded with the heavy pattering of shoes slapping cement, coming from the right side. Maybe they had seen Chris step out and were following him, they might run right past us. Then I felt guilty for my hope.

I put my back to the wall, willing myself to bleed into the shadows. I had my breath held and was trying to make my heart beat more quietly when the running men crested the alley. They didn’t even slow to look.

The footsteps receded and I tried to listen for sounds of a confrontation. Then I heard shouts, they sounded like they were about two blocks away. I shut my eyes, blood rushing through my brain mercifully drowning out the sounds of fighting.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up at Jeff. He helped me to my feet and brought me into a large circle. He had already put Jason and our bags into it. I noticed Chris had left his bag with ours.

Jeff gently turned my chin so I was looking up at him. His look of kind concern put me over the edge and tears coursed freely down my cheeks.

“Ok,” he said gently, brushing them off with his thumbs. “You are going to have to wait to do that. I still need you and so do your two guys. Chris is fast, I expect him to come tearing around the corner any minute now. Stay focused for us just a little while longer okay?”

I nodded and he moved his hand to my shoulder reassuringly. I snuffled and tried to reset myself. He might be right, Chris ran track in high school after all. He was in better shape than most people our age.

The sounds of a fight intensified and I tried to steel myself for the worst.

Jeff was doing something with his hands, and then I could feel a Whoosh of air and a bright light flashed in the middle of the circle. My ears popped with a change in pressure.

Everything but the sirens had fallen eerily silent. Then I could hear the running feet again, coming right for us.

“It’s up. Remember, don’t step outside the circle. Keep an eye on Jason too.” Jeff said facing the entrance to the alley.

Three Trench Coats rounded the corner into our alley, and came to a halt just inches from the circle. They appeared to be sizing us up, and then one of them nodded with an evil smile crossing his lips. The other two stood behind him watching us as the one with the charming smile sat down crossing his legs.

Smiley gazed at Jeff as he began a low voiced chant that seemed to make the ground quake. I ducked down, thinking that the cinder block walls above us would crash in at any moment.

“You have to make a decision. You can stay and probably die fighting for Jason. Or you can run and I’ll keep them busy. They are more interested in me right now anyway, and to be honest, I stand a better chance of saving Jason than you do. I have about one minute left on this circle before they bring it down.” Jeff called out loudly, sweat running down his neck.

“I’m staying with Jason and you.” I didn’t add, “Where would I go?”

I situated myself between the Trench coats and Jason, and prepared myself as best I could mentally. I had eleven shots left. I had another full clip in my bag, but I was under no illusions about being able to reload quickly enough to make a difference.

Jeff was pulling on some wicked looking gloves. They appeared to be heavy leather with a very intimidating set of brass knuckles set into them. I had to look away when I realized they had bits of gore embedded in the tines over the knuckles.

I felt another popping sensation beginning to build in my ears. The standing Trench Coats took a step back from us as Smiley began to get up off the ground. They all backed away from us, as if waiting for something to explode.

“This will be loud and very bright. Close your eyes so you don’t lose your night vision. You’ll know when you can open them again.” Jeff said softly behind me.

I did as I was told, felt my ears pop as a loud roaring sound like a jet engine revved up. The backs of my eyelids lit up and my eyes watered. Then it was quiet. I snapped my eyes open just in time to see a black Vega plow into the three Trench Coats.

“Oy, come on, get in.” Chris yelled at us, grinning crazily.

I spun around grabbing our bags; Jeff already had Jason over his shoulder.

I could hear movement out on the street, but I was too terrified to look. Just move Lucy, keep moving, I told myself over and over.

As I came out of the alley, Jeff had Jason loaded in and was pushing the seat back. He stood up as a Trench Coat hurtled into him. I finished tossing the bags in just as the other two got up off the ground, moving rapidly towards me. Chris yelled at me to just get in the fookin’ car.

Of course, I shot the two Trench Coats on my side of the car instead. I shot them a lot, and they slowed down. I looked over at Jeff, who was diving into the front passenger seat. I slid in behind Chris.

“Go, go, go…” I yelled, feet coming off the pavement just as the door swung shut.

Chris floored it, nicking one of the Trench Coats I had just put many holes in. He spun around with a sickening crunch that I couldn’t really hear. His knees just looked as if they had been smashed and twisted and my brain supplied the appropriate sound effects. The other two Coats were still down. I don’t know what Jeff had done, but he had done it better than my Beretta apparently. The two I shot were still attempting to give chase.

Jeff directed our careening car all over an industrial area and into what looked like a red light district. There were other vehicles on the street and people, mostly desperate looking women walking around. Jeff told us to pull over to the side.

“Look, I need to get some help here. I need to find a guy by the name of Phineas, with long black dreads and blue eyes. I’ll be right back. Don’t lower your window for anyone but Phineas or me. Lucy, keep your gun where people outside the car can see it.” Jeff said in what I was finding to be his usual staccato burst.

I watched him walk away, keeping my gun raised to window level. More than one person looked like they might approach once Jeff was gone, but were deterred by the sight of the gun.
*************
“I’m so glad you came back.” I said lamely, squeezing Chris’ shoulder. “You could have told me what you were doing, you know.”

“No time. Besides, would you have let me go?” Chris asked with an arched brow.

I didn’t answer and he nodded to himself. I leaned over to check on Jason. He was still breathing, but still out cold.

“Chris, I am really worried about Jason. He needs medical help. This has gotten out of hand.” I said, as if I had been waiting to voice the obvious.

“Well, we can’t leave Jeff here. We don’t know where to find a functioning hospital. And, you know as well as I that there is more wrong with Jason than a hospital is likely to fix.” Chris answered me, watching the people around us closely.

None of them were wearing trench coats.
***********
About fifteen long minutes later, Jeff came trotting up to the car.

“Well, we can’t stay here.” He said, as if that was ever really a good option. “I am going to take you back to my place. But if Jason wakes up, you are going to have to knock him back out.” Jeff said, looking me in the eye.

“Look, I appreciate your help with everything. I really do, but I am not causing any more damage to Jason.” I said, returning Jeff’s steady gaze.

“Okay.” He answered simply. He took his hand off the door handle and said, “You are on Oak St. Gilbert is the next one over. Follow the signs to get you out to the Interstate. You may be stuck at the exit lot for a while, they had some trouble earlier.”

Then he took a step away from the car.

“Wait, Jeff!” Chris called, leaning over. “Look, Jason needs help. If you say knocking him out is best then we’ll do it. But you are the only one who seems to know what has happened here. We need your help.” I could have knocked Chris out right about then. But, to a certain extent he was right.

Jeff let himself back in with a slight smirk for my benefit. He motioned for Chris to pull out and begin driving.

We went a few blocks before turning into another alley. I kept an eye on Jason, but I still had no intention of knocking him back out.

Jeff got out of the car when we stopped in front of a set of black painted wooden double doors at a service entrance to one of the old buildings. The buildings here looked like they used to house industrial businesses. Most were all boarded up in the back.

Jeff unlocked the doors and swung them wide. I was surprised to see a brick design in the floor and plastic tables with closed umbrellas and chairs turned upside down on them. There were faded fake ivy plants in hanging baskets all around.

Jeff moved some of the tables out of the way, motioning us to pull in. Slowly Chris got the Beast maneuvered into place. As we climbed out, Jeff closed the doors, sliding a heavy bar into place. The inside of the walls were covered in writing, similar to the hotel walls, without the creepiness. We seemed to be in some sort of courtyard.

Jeff walked up to a glass door with plywood on the inside and opened it. He pulled Jason out of the back seat with some help from Chris and we all went inside. It was pitch black, but Jeff had one of those shake lights so we could follow him forward on a tile floor. When we hit carpeting he took a left and then went up some stairs.

Inside a large room Jeff lit some candles and it looked like we were in an office. It had two large metal desks and a couch and table. We settled Jason on the couch.

“This is an old night club.” Jeff announced. “It has emergency lighting wired directly into a few solar cells on the roof. I keep the lights covered, but I’ll pull the coverings off while I give you the tour. It doesn’t get much brighter in here during the day because everything is boarded up, so try to get a good feel for the place. Jason can stay on the couch because it’s in a circle. If he is anything other than the Jason you know and love, he won’t be able to leave it.”

After that cryptic statement, we followed Jeff back down the stairs and waited while he pulled ropes attached to cloth coverings for the emergency lights. They were actually pretty bright and we could see an enormous cavern of a room. There was a horseshoe shaped bar in the middle and pool tables on the side with the office. As we crossed to the other side we saw a set of stairs going up, a large dance floor with a stage and a seating area. We turned and went up the stairs pausing at the mezzanine level before continuing to the 3rd level. It had its own bar, small dance floor and pool table. The place was huge! Towards the back on the 3rd level were two dressing rooms for bands; they both had ratty old couches and chairs, mirrors and tables.

“You can sleep in these rooms if you need to. They aren’t much, but they were good enough for Dr. Hook and Edgar Winter back in the day.” Jeff gestured to the couches. I wasn’t sure if I recognized the names he was tossing out.

He took us across the aisle to the 3rd floor dance floor. On the backside it had a large door with a padlock on it. Jeff took it off, it hadn’t been latched. Inside, when he turned his flashlight on it, we could see a very large service elevator.

“This thing doesn’t take any electricity. It’s all about counterweights.” He said stepping in and grabbing a rope to the side. The thing lurched a bit and he tried another rope, this time the car moved smoothly downward to the 1st floor. He pushed open the door and we stepped out.

“I turned the water service on out at the road. City workers don’t have time to come out and check these old buildings unless there is some sort of emergency, so no one has come to shut me down yet. There are bathrooms below my office and over there,” he said pointing below the mezzanine. “I recommend using the ones below the office.”

No one was tired enough to sleep, so we followed Jeff back to his office. Jeff had a damp bar towel that he was using to try to wake Jason. We tried shaking him, yelling at him and sprinkling water on his face. Nothing seemed to be working.

“Ok. This is not normal. Agreed?” Jeff asked us, we nodded.

“I am going to try something different. Don’t interrupt me once I get started, don’t step into the circle with him unless I say to and if you don’t think you can follow those rules you may want to leave the room for a while.” He said looking right at me.

“What!? I am going to sit right over here until you are done.” I said, sitting behind the desk.

Chris leaned against the wall opposite me. Jeff sat down on the table across from the couch. He took his coat off, pulling a Bible from an inner pocket. This was a seriously muscular man. He wore a wife beater tank top and cargo pants. There were scars of varying types on his arms and shoulders and an eight-pointed compass tattooed on his right shoulder. He wasn’t what you would call conventionally good looking. He was attractive in an ‘I‘m glad you don’t want to rip my head off’ relieved sort of way. The scar running through his right eyebrow and broken nose added to his dangerous looks.

He began to chant in Latin. One hand on his Bible, one hand on a cross he wore around his neck. I seriously doubted he was a minister or priest, but he seemed very assured.
******************

Jason’s eyes began to tremble as if he was deep in a REM state. His whole body went rigid and he sat bolt upright on the couch, as if pulled by invisible threads.

“You!” he exclaimed in a raspy voice. He was looking right at Jeff.

“Nobody say anyone else’s name right now.” Jeff called out to us. Then looking at Jason, “ You don’t belong here do you? Why don’t you just go back home?”

Jason turned to look at Chris and me and then looked back at Jeff. He didn’t respond.

“Do you or do you not belong here? Is this person your willing host?” Jeff asked again.

Jason shuddered at the questions, as if ducking a blow. He twisted on the couch to look at me.

“Answer the question. Do you have a valid claim on this person?” Jeff asked, louder this time.

“Lucy, this guy is nuts. Get me out of here.” Jason pleaded with me. But his eyes had a creepy vacancy to them. I resisted the temptation to answer him; I was feeling very out of my element.

A look of frustrated rage I’ve never seen before flitted across Jason’s features.

“Answer the question Demon! Do you have a valid claim on this man?” Jeff yelled loudly. “You must leave now if you do not have a valid claim. Leave now, Demon…”

Jason began to tremble and thrash on the couch. I caught a whiff of sulfur in the air and the olfactory memory made my heart pound.

“You don’t have the strength to keep this one do you? Your connection is weakening as we speak. Find an easier victim. Oh, that’s right. You burned them all up in the fire last night didn’t you? You didn’t even reap the benefits of that sacrifice did you? Who did? Who did you do it for? Were you punished for letting us escape?” Jeff asked in rapid succession. “You didn’t even get to keep her did you?”

That last statement seemed to have an effect on Jason. His trembling intensified and he slumped forward screaming, “That Bitch! That Bitch! I should have ripped your head off you whore of an abomination…”

He went quiet except for a loud rattling exhalation.“Did either of you hear him use a name for the Demon?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah, I think it started with a B. Bath something.” I replied.

“Bath! Bath! You lost! You are weak and you lost to a few low order humans! Go home, Bath. Get out, Bath!” Jeff yelled again, loudly. His right hand was palm out towards Jason; his left was on the Bible. I kept expecting him to call upon his faith or God’s name for extra oomph, but he never did.

Jason tilted over on the couch and nearly rolled off. He didn’t respond to Jeff.

“I think it’s done. The Demon never had a really good tie to Jason. I think Jason is just sleeping now. Lets give him a little time, possession takes a lot out of a person.” Jeff said getting up and heading for the office door.

Demons and Possessions. That was just too much for me. I stepped over to the couch and started to shake Jason awake.

“You probably don’t want to do that. Unless you want another express flight across the room.” Jeff said over his shoulder, “And if you’re going to be stupid, I ain’t gonna save you this time.”

Down the stairs he went. Chris looked at me incredulously. He sighed and sat on the coffee table across from me. Jason opened his eyes and mumbled something incoherently.

I suddenly felt a little scared, remembering the glowing black eyes of the “Demon”. I shivered and pulled Jason onto my lap, stroking his hair.
***********
The smell of cooking meat wafted up into the office about twenty minutes later. It was apparently just the thing to bring Jason around.

We sat at a large round table next to the bar and ate canned corned beef hash mixed with fried eggs. We all had our fingers and toes, and we could remember our names. I’d call that a win.

It turns out that Jeff had a life before we came along. Before everything went bad in the world, Jeff was your average every day blue-collar automotive factory worker. He was happily married with two kids. His wife got an opportunity for a good job about two hours away and took it. Then she took the kids and everything they owned. They got divorced three months after she started the new job. She got remarried and Jeff found God again.

He lost his job, like so many others, when the trucking industry took a dive. With no raw materials coming in and not much finished product going out- there simply wasn’t enough work for people.

Jeff became part of the horde of homeless that every larger city contends with now. While staying at the Catholic Church, he learned a few things about good and evil. He saw a lot of violence on a daily basis, most of it borne out of desperation. And he began to see a pattern.

Quiet unassuming people began to do perfectly awful things. Things like skinning animals alive, reproducing crucifixions and explosive beatings. They always wore trench coats for some reason. And they would gather together as if communicating telepathically. They almost seemed like a flock of watchful crows.

As time went on, it was clear to Jeff that this had to be the work of the Devil. He began to read everything he could find on exorcisms and other methods of dealing with the Devil and his minions. What he found in his research differed greatly from what actually worked in real life, and many of his Catholic friends died horribly, still clinging to useless conventions. It was faith that banished the Demons, not the trappings of a church. Crosses, holy water, wooden stakes- none of it did anything without unswerving faith.

Last night was a major turning point in Jeff’s battle for the Good. A sacrifice of that magnitude signaled that something much bigger was on the horizon. Jeff wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he didn’t want to be around for the next chapter in Danville history. This town was lost as far as he was concerned.

When noon rolled around we decided to start taking shifts keeping watch. We couldn’t be sure that the Interstate was going to be open today and we didn’t want to risk getting caught waiting for it. If we absolutely had to we could take non-interstate roads tomorrow, but the stories coming in about those were very disturbing.

Jeff had built and arranged blinds on the roof, so that Chris and Jason could sit in them undetected by people on the ground or the taller building across the street. It afforded us a great view of all of the movement immediately around the nightclub.

Jeff joined me in my room on the third floor, sitting on the coffee table across from me on the couch. I found myself checking the floor for another circle, and wouldn’t you know there was one!

“What’s on your mind Jeff?” I asked, the long tense hours giving my sunny disposition an edge.

“What exactly are you?” he asked me simply.

Again with the shocked silence! My inner confusion must have shown.

“Look, you should be dead already.” Jeff explained, adding to my confusion. “That Demon should have had you under his control and used you up by now. He knew your name, and that didn’t even faze you. You hurt him somehow. That’s why he threw you back.”

“I don’t know.” And I really didn’t. “I am as baffled as you are about that. I remember what you are describing and you are right. I felt myself going under, and then It screamed and I screamed and I was sailing back across the room. I don’t understand it either.”

“I’ve never seen anyone survive an encounter of that sort. Jason isn’t the only person to be brought back from a minor possession, but no one has been in the claws of a Demon and lived to my knowledge.” Jeff said quietly, studying me.

Feeling overly scrutinized, I leaned forward to shift my legs up onto the couch. Jeff reached out to catch my hands, holding them still, looking into my eyes. I returned his gaze, my heart beating wildly.

He reached up and brushed my hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ears. I froze, unsure of his intentions and unsure of my own self-control. On the one hand I couldn’t deny that I felt safer with him around. But on the other, this was a violent man. If he decided I was the enemy, he could put down some serious damage.

“I, um, you should take this chance to get some rest.” He seemed to gather himself not meeting my eyes anymore. He left the room, shutting the door behind him. I felt a strange sense of loss, as if an important moment had passed and I didn’t appreciate it. I shut my eyes, mulling over our discussion.

A few minutes later, Jason came into the room. He said that Jeff had decided to take his shift. Jason’s color had improved, but he had a haunted look in his eyes. He laid down on the other couch; I don’t think either of us slept much.

Emergency services were very busy all through the day and night. We heard a lot of gunfire and at least one sizeable explosion. In the morning we decided to get back on the road, taking Jeff with us. We were pretty crowded in the Vega, but we couldn’t leave him behind. Even though he had suddenly gone all nervous around me, I was still oddly comforted by his presence. I even volunteered to sit in the back with him. We didn’t say much.The Interstate was open, but the checkpoints were overloaded. People were fleeing Danville in droves. I wondered how many of them were really just people and how many were Demon Touched like Jason, spreading out like a virus.

Maybe it was just Danville.

Ch.2 Athena's Iniquitous Gift

2008-11-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

Chapter 2

“Tattoo’s can be a window into someone’s soul or a shield against those who can’t see past the surface”-Tattoist saying

We pulled up in front of a gigantic red brick edifice. The understated sign above the old style doors said The Waalford. Clearly this was a very old hotel that had seen much better days. The term ‘Grand’ was probably used a lot in its heyday. As we circled the block, a large bald man watched us closely.

The minivan contained- I kid you not- George and Irene and their children George Jr and Ashley. Family unit type 1-A. They maneuvered into a parking garage about two blocks away from the Waalford. The lot was expensive, but manned. There were at least a dozen other functional looking vehicles parked in it so it was a pretty safe bet.

As we approached the Waalford we instinctively decided it would be best to walk on the opposite side of the street from the big bald guy. He was busily drawing something in chalk on the sidewalk and muttering to himself. He looked up from time to time as if on the verge of saying something.

When we got to the doors I was struck by the massive size of this building. Why on Earth would Danville ever need a hotel of this magnitude? Could it ever have been that prosperous?
As we filtered in the bald man hollered after us something to the effect of “don’t do it, you don’t want to do that”. I was glad when the doors shut.

That is, until I got a good look around. Talk about shabby! This place still had the same marble flooring and flocked velvet wallpaper it had started out with! Only now the floor was discolored, cracked and patched with quikcrete and the wallpaper had burn holes and was peeling from water damage. In some areas it looked like it had a mold or fungus. It had a large, non functional chandelier in the foyer.

There did appear to be an ample supply of lamps and some furniture that I wouldn’t be sitting on. George Jr & Ashley ran over and flopped on the greasy burgundy couch. I cringed.

An efficient looking woman appeared behind the desk and motioned us over. She took our ID’s and copied them and then informed us about the RULES! We could indeed rent rooms for the night. However, because this hotel catered to the elderly poor, our key cards would not give us access to anything above the 3rd floor. We were expected to be quiet and respectful of the other residents and guests at all times. We were also expected to be back in our rooms by mid night. The front desk would shut down and there would be no one to buzz us up after midnight. There would be NO REFUNDS if we got locked out of our rooms because we were late getting back! Any problems?

Well, what choice did we have at this point? There were other hotels closer to the Interstate, but I imagined that they were booked by the block when bombings occurred. Luckily, this hotel was cheap! So we forked over the cash and headed up.

The rooms echoed the tired décor of the rest of the hotel. But the beds appeared clean, with gold colored bedspreads. The kind with tassels on the corners. The bathrooms were a different story, covered with mineral deposits on the fixtures and rust stains. That’s what they made flip flops for isn’t it?

George and Irene were actually 1 floor above us because they needed a larger suite with the kids. To be honest, I was relieved. Sometimes traveling in too big of a group just made you slow. Dropping off some of our snacks later was going to be the extent of my responsibility for them.
Our 2nd floor windows were fairly utilitarian, but I didn’t feel cheated because a view of downtown Danville was hardly an inspiring sight. I pulled the blinds tighter and flopped down on my bed.

“We should probably just keep our heads down here. We can find out when the roads will open up again tomorrow. What do you want to do about supper?” Jason asked, looking at me, of course.

I cracked my right eye at him. Chris had joined in the expectant staring so I sighed as I sat back up.

“Well, I suppose we should go find a café or restaurant. We don’t want to use our supplies when we have others available.” I said. “Lets ask at the front desk.”

Chris picked up the phone experimentally. It was of an older style that only called in-house. It rang through to the front desk.

After some conversation that seemed to involve a lot of cutting Chris off, he determined that we were a short walk from an old diner. We packed everything that we couldn’t live without on us and took off.
*************

“Watch that bald guy there.” Chris muttered under his breath as we walked out the door. He had his hand on my elbow and was steadily tugging me behind him so I couldn’t have watched anything but his backside. Ok, I exaggerate.

Jason took up a flanking position next to me. I was pretty effectively boxed in unless I just stopped walking and let my bodyguards keep going. Block the chick with the gun, smaaart…

What I could see, when I stopped my sarcastic conversation with myself, was the bald guy standing on the corner we were walking towards. He was facing the corner across the street where a group of four young men were standing. Trench coats hung like uniforms on all of them, isn’t that odd…

The bald guy knelt down on one knee, facing away from us. The group on the corner appeared to get agitated, looking nervously from Baldy to us approaching. We slowed our walk. I reached into my jacket pocket; hand on the nine.

“Chris, we are going to walk right through this.” Jason intoned quietly. “Stay close to the building and try not to make eye contact.”

Which is exactly what we did. Baldy stayed on one knee, not even sparing a glance at us. The group on the corner went eerily still, following us with their collective gaze. It was altogether unsettling, like something from a Star Trek episode. Other than the trench coats, I couldn’t see any easily discernible connection between Baldy and the Foursome.

Once we had crossed the next street and turned towards the purported location of the diner we all let out a heavy breath.

“You saw that right? I mean, the oddity and all?” Chris blurted.

“Is that bald guy in trouble? Should we stay close enough to help or look menacing or something?” I asked Jason.

“I don’t think We want any part of what is going on with Them.” Jason chuckled out. We equaling puny humans, Them equaling too weird for puny humans. He kept moving forward and we followed, looking over our shoulders periodically.
************

The diner was exactly as imagined. No frills, expensive and slow. Venison stew was the main dish to be had although the pigeon was cheaper. None of us were going for cheap. We shared a pot of coffee with actual cream and sugar for dessert. All in all it was a decent meal. The staff acted like they hadn’t seen a woman in twenty years and it was nice for my ego. I found myself brushing my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ears in the mirrored wall as we left the diner an hour later. I didn’t look half bad today, hmm.

I was feeling fairly fuzzy and warm as we ambled back towards our hotel. I actually reached for Chris and Jason’s hands as we walked. They looked at each other over my head, smirking. But they humored me. I got to enjoy it for all of a minute and a half.

We all seemed to realize at once that there were quite a few people in trench coats around us. And the people in trench coats had noticed us. We quickened our pace.

It was becoming habit for Chris to take the lead and Jason to stay on the outside of me. Jason again murmured our instructions to stay close to buildings and keep eye contact to a minimum.

I heard running steps behind us, but they sounded like they stopped at the corner we had just crossed from. As if we were being tailed, but not under direct attack.

I imagined this must have been what it was like to be near a race riot and be the wrong race. It was terrifying. My heart pounded and my breathing sounded too loud to me. Along with a silent prayer to please just let us make it to the next corner, I replayed in my mind over and over what I would do if we were set upon. Who would I shoot first, would the guys allow me to bring up the rear as they guided us to the hotel?

The prayer turned into please just let us make this turn onto our street. Still no overt aggression, just the sense of gathering trench coats.

As we turned onto the Waalford’s street we could see Baldy still manning his chalk drawings. He looked right at us, as if expecting us. We tensed and slowed. He seemed to be studying us, weighing us against the other trench coats. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and he beckoned us forward. The Foursome from earlier took exception to this and looked like they might intervene. They started across the road towards us on an intercept course. I brought my gun out and stepped up level with Chris. Jason let out a sharp breath and colorful adjective.
Chris allowed me to lead and Jason moved up next to me. I could hear Chris change direction and walk backwards behind us, one hand on the belt of my jacket so he could feel when we slowed or stopped.

Curiously, all of the worry and fear seemed to drain out. Everything took on a sense of clarity around me and slowed. I glanced at Baldy and gave him a ½ nod, effectively conveying to him that we were NOT in need of his assistance and he should remain where he was. Which telegraphed over to the approaching Foursome, just stepping off the curb. I snapped my gaze over to the guy I knew in my gut was leading this ill-conceived group of thuglings and sighted my gun directly in on his chest. Then, to my surprise, I called out:

“You’re first, Jackass!” in a clear, calm but forceful voice that I didn’t recognize. Apparently, neither did Jason or Chris because they both gave a start. I didn’t care; I was too busy calculating when I would have to start shooting in order to get them all before they got to us.

And then, would I have enough bullets left to cover us for the run to the doors of the Waalford…

The surprises just kept rolling in! The leader of the Foursome stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at us quizzically, almost in disbelief. Then they all backtracked to their corner again.

We kept moving at faster clip now towards Baldy. Keeping my eye on the Foursome and the handful of other trench coats we could see up & down the road now, we stopped on Baldy’s corner, standing on his chalk drawing.

“You’d better come with us. I don’t think you are going to be safe out here anymore.” I said, again in that calm voice. Where was that coming from?

“No. You had better leave this area now. Nobody is safe here.” He argued. Not successfully.

“Come on mate! We don’t ‘ave time to argue. Juust come into da ‘otel an we can talk there.” Chris put in, helpfully. “You don’t ‘ave to stay all night, just until whot ever’s ‘appening out here is duune.”

Chris’s accent was in full cockney swing. It’s a wonder Baldy understood him.

“You don’t understand, look, I’m telling you. You don’t want to stay in that hotel. You’re not going to be any safer in there than you are out here. The best thing is for all of you to get out of this area right now.” Baldy intoned emphatically.

The Foursome watched our exchange with interest. It was unnerving and I was ready to move. The Trench Coats seemed to be just waiting for us to follow Baldy’s advice, maybe so they could pick us off.

“We are going to go into the Waalford now.” Jason said quietly. “You may join us if you wish, but we will not be coming back out to check on you once we get safely inside.”

With that, Jason took a few steps towards the door, one hand lightly on my shoulder as I turned to keep my gun on the Foursome. Chris again was walking backwards. Jason swore softly to himself when we reached the door, panic spiked icily up my spine.

“It’s locked. Chris, look for a buzzer, but don’t let on that anything is wrong.” Jason murmured under his breath.

Chris looked for a moment and found a call button. He pressed it and we waited. It was only a matter of time before the trench coat brigade figured out that we were locked out. I wished Baldy would just join us; I didn’t like to think what might happen to him out here by himself.

A scratchy voice cut loudly across the tension, making us jump. “Registration name please.” A pause, then louder still, “Name of the registered resident please.”

Jason called out, “Millson, 3 overnight guests. Room 208.”

There was a buzz and a click as the door lock opened. Jason shouldered it open and ushered us inside, pushing my gun down and into my pocket as I passed him.

We looked around the lobby to report what was going on outside. But the lobby was empty. We waited a minute for the voice on the intercom to come back, but she didn’t. Jason stepped over to the front desk and rang the service bell.

A different buzzing sounded and a door at the end of the desk opened. The same dour woman came through, looking frazzled.

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to tell you about the front door. When the nut jobs outside start up like that we lock it. Only residents and people they put on the list for the day can come in. You should probably stay in for the night.” She blustered, half turning to leave again, “Will there be anything else?”

“Uh, no. Thanks.” We muttered. She was gone before we finished.

We just stood there, a little stunned for a second. Jason turned and headed for the stairs and we followed. I was suddenly too exhausted to talk.

When we got back in our room we checked our booby traps and hairs to make sure nothing was disturbed. Everything appeared okay. We took a moment to congratulate ourselves on getting through yet another harrowing experience, the guys revealing a newfound respect for me. I shrugged the compliment off, mostly because I couldn’t be sure how backhanded it was. The guys were funny about things like that. Maybe they were really as surprised as I was at my behavior with the gun, or maybe they were saying that they didn’t think I had it in me to take care of myself.

Or, maybe I was just too tired to be thinking that hard about a compliment. I flopped back down on my bed, kicking off my shoes unsuccessfully. Chris flopped down on the other bed, and I swear began snoring before his head hit the pillow.

Jason turned the TV on low, finding one station. It was local and had some coverage of the interstate bombing earlier. He sat down at the foot of my bed and took my shoes off. While watching the TV, he lightly rubbed my feet until I slipped off sleep.
************

I woke up sweltering. The blanket I was laying on had been flipped over me, and Jason was lying on the bed next to me, one arm thrown over my waist. I slowly moved his arm off, and pushed the blanket over onto Jason. I got up and headed for the bathroom. I passed Chris, sprawled diagonally across his bed. His arms and legs flung out all crazy. Mercifully, he had stopped snoring.

It had to be close to mid-night. The light filtering from behind the blinds had changed and my internal clock told me I had only been out for about five hours.

I splashed some water on my face and brushed my teeth, examining myself in the mirror. My brown hair had gotten ridiculously long. It was shot through with shiny silver hairs that I started getting when I was fifteen. It made me look older and tired. Maybe I could get some Henna when we went through Champaign. Shiny reddish hairs had to be better than this.

I used to be pretty. Right after high school. I never had to make plans for the weekend because there was always someone planning to take me out. At one point, every surface in my bedroom was covered with floral bouquets because a quiet competition had started amongst my regular dates.

Pretty takes time and effort, though. And sometimes lots of product. I know, men always say they like natural beauty. But let me tell you, that Natural Look doesn’t come naturally! Natural women have extra hairs in inopportune places; they have skin discolorations, freckles and wrinkles. Their hair is wild and crazy without being tamed down with massive applications of heat and styling products. Without regular visits to the gym, some women even have pockets of fat!

True Natural Beauty is an acquired taste. And sometimes smell.

These days I don’t refer to myself as pretty so much as clean and fit. That’s as good as I think I can get at the moment, and frankly, it’s a lot less time consuming.

As I stepped out of the bathroom to rummage for my flip-flops, I caught a whiff of a strong noxious smell. Now, this is not an uncommon occurrence when with Jason and Chris. However, this smell was acrid in a poisonous way and was stronger near the door. It was like the sulfur smell from the well in Veedersburg, but much much stronger.

I cracked the door, caught sight of a yellowish cloud in the hall and closed it quickly.

“Guys, get up now!” I snapped out. “Get our stuff together and get ready to go out the window.”

“What… what are you….?” They both mumbled sleepily at me.

“Listen. To. Me.” I intoned clearly and slowly for them. “I think we are under a chemical attack, there is a cloud of gas in the hallway. I don’t think we can stay here.”

Jason sat upright, flinging the blanket off him. He padded over to the door, looking out the keyhole and wrinkling his nose.

“She’s right. We gotta go.” He stepped into the bathroom and began running water.

I was so glad that the expert had weighed in. Now, surely, we could leave.

But no, we couldn’t take action until my thought had been double confirmed by the other expert…

Chris walked right past the bathroom and opened the damned door. I was so appalled all I could do was reach forward and slam it shut again. Chris just turned and looked blankly at me.

“Uh, right. Lets go.”

“Don’t do that again,” Jason said calmly as he laid a wet towel across the bottom of the door. He handed us damp washrags and he kept a damp hand towel for himself. “Breathe through these if we hit any more gas clouds.”

He went over to the window trying to figure out how to unlatch it. Chris walked over and tried to help. It appeared to be stuck. On closer inspection, it looked as though the track the window was supposed to slide in had a coating of super glue over it.

As I threw our loose belongings into my duffel bag, Chris grabbed a chair and took a swing at the window. It bowed out, but didn’t break.

He tried again. It didn’t break. Jason tried it, with no luck as well. We all looked at each other, remembering what Baldy had said earlier.

“If we hold our breath maybe we can get down the hall.” I suggested.

“I think that is our best bet at this point. I don’t want to wait for whatever is next here. I’ll run down the hall first and make sure it’s clear for you guys. Then we’ll all go together.” Jason took some deep breaths, and then covered his mouth with his towel.

We flung the door open and then closed it. Chris watched out the peephole, I had my ear to the door listening to the thump thumping of Jason’s footsteps. They stopped abruptly.

“What’s hap-“ “Shhh, I can’t hear-”

A strangled sound came from the corridor. I looked up and Chris’s eyes were big as saucers.

“Come on. We’re leaving now!” I shouldered my bag; Chris grabbed his and Jason’s. I had my gun out when we opened the door.

The cloud seemed to have dissipated somewhat. I could see Jason leaning against the wall ahead of us, oddly still.

“Jason!” I called out loudly. My ears started to ring suddenly and I felt like all my energy got exhaled out when I called his name.

Jason, Jason, Jason came a strange echoing back to me as Jason slumped down the wall.

He was gasping for air when we got to him and pulling himself back up to his feet. He looked bewildered, I am sure mirroring my expression.

“What happened?” I started to ask.

“Lets move!” Chris said, heading for the door to the stairwell.

The door was locked. A sick feeling began in the pit of my stomach. This had all of the earmarks of a terrorist act we had read about in the papers a few months ago.

I noticed strange writing all over the walls around us, I didn't remember seeing it earlier. It wasn’t any language I was familiar with, but it had an Asian feel to it. As I watched, the writing seemed to writhe and change. I jumped backed, knocking into Chris who had also noticed it.

Feeling creeped out, we started pressing the buzzer repeatedly. Jason seemed to be dragging, not quite with it. Had we inhaled some sort of hallucinogenic?

A sharp scratchy voice came over the intercom. “Please return to your room. We are experiencing technical difficulties. You will receive a call when everything is cleared up.” It almost sounded recorded.

“Wait, we need help up here. We need you to unlock this door and evacuate the building.” Chris responded, pressing the buzzer again.

“Please return to you room sir.” was the answer.

“There is a cloud of gas up here. We are being poisoned. Open this door now.” I said loudly, banging on the door.

“We are aware of the situation Miss. Please return to your room.” was the reply. The sick feeling cranked up a notch.

“We should return to our rooms.” Jason said weakly behind us.

Chris and I both gaped at him for a moment, before looking at each other.

Chris pulled out his short pry bar and went to work on the door. I took aim at the buzzer box and fired. The lock actually clicked back and forth a few times, and Chris managed to catch it on the open cycle. He yanked the door open, and I pulled a lethargic Jason through it.

We fairly tumbled down the stairs. I spared a thought for people on the upper floors, but decided that the best way for me to help them would be to survive long enough to get help from outside.

I fired again at the 1st floor buzzer box. It didn’t work out as neatly as the one upstairs did, and the shot was deafening in the stairwell. I hoped other residents heard it and were alarmed. Again Chris went to work with his pry bar. It took a lot of effort and swearing, but eventually enough force was applied to the latch area to work everything but the bolt loose. His bar bit into the metal around it enough to give it some wiggle room.

Over the sounds of wrenching metal I could begin to hear hysterical screams coming from above us. Sweat poured down Chris’s brow. Jason just seemed dazed, like he had been hit over the head. I looked him over quickly, but I couldn’t see any bleeding.

Finally the door popped open. We went through and were greeted by the grisly sight of the dour front desk lady laid on the floor in a pool of blood. She was naked, with the strange writing carved into her doughy flesh. Her wrists had been cut and she had bled out. She was laid out in the form of a crucifixion inside an intricately drawn circle on the floor.

We cautiously looked around before heading towards the front door. There were about five other circles on the ground and the lingering sulfur smell from upstairs. There was no shortage of creepy writing on the walls around us. Jason just got more and more sluggish, and I was tugging on him by the time we got to the door.

Locked again! Chris leaped behind the front desk to look for the button to open it. Then he headed for the door at the end. It was locked as well.

He came back and took a swing at the front door with his pry bar. It bounced back ineffectually a few times. Then he grabbed a chair, let out a yell and swung. Again it bowed out, but didn’t break.

But this time I noticed a flare of writing illuminated on the glass, similar to what was written on the walls.

“Do it again Chris, but watch the glass this time.” I said.

He did and sure enough the writing fluoresced again. I brought my gun up, and was about to shoot when Baldy appeared outside the door. He was bleeding from a cut over his brow, and something viscous was dripping from his hands. He dropped to the ground when he saw my gun.
He raised his hands up as if to say don’t shoot, and then he indicated we should back up from the door a bit.

He had his chunk of chalk in hand and began to write something we couldn’t see on the door. We moved in closer to see what he was doing, but he frantically motioned us back.

Without realizing it, Chris and I both held our breath. Jason was slumped against me and beginning to mutter.

Suddenly, Jason stiffened and turned to face the far corner of the room, towards a circle on the floor in front of the front desk. The sulfur smell was growing stronger and a cloud was forming within the circle.

Panicked, I looked over my shoulder at Baldy. He was writing furiously in chalk that wasn’t showing up on the glass. I was having racing thoughts about all of the horror movies and books I’d ever read. I just couldn’t latch onto to anything pertaining to this.

I decided to crouch down, close to the door. I pulled Chris down with me and tried to get Jason to do the same. Jason was locked in place though, completely ignoring me. His eyes were glazed over and he was facing the troublesome circle in the back.

A very tall humanoid shape was forming in the sulfury cloud. I say humanoid because humans don’t get that tall, and something was wrong about it. I couldn’t put my finger on it…

As it coalesced before my eyes I realized it was staring at us. Specifically at Jason. I don’t know how to describe it; it was beautiful in a terrible dark way. It was black and leathery and shiny, with claws on its hands and horns on its head. Its eyes had a golden predatory glow to them.
It flicked its gaze at me and I felt it like a kick to the gut, the air whooshing out of me. It swung its gaze onto Jason, its pupils dilating to block out the golden glow.

“Jason.” It hissed. Its voice hurt my ears.

Jason dropped his hand to my shoulder, gripping it painfully.

“Bhaathim.” Jason said in a harsh unnatural tone.

Chris stood up and took a step back from Jason. I tried to do the same, but was held firmly in place.

“Jason, let me up.” I whimpered at him.

The thing in the circle took a step out and towards us. Fixing me with its terrifying gaze. I began to struggle.

“She will belong to me now.” It said, in inhuman tones. Reaching between its legs to fondle a previously invisible organ.

Ohhh no, that’s not an option. My brain was rapid fire informing me of the obvious.

Then I was flying through the air, towards the creature. My shoulder was on fire where Jason had been gripping it. I had time to realize that the landing was going to hurt before I crumpled like a pop can in a heap on the floor.

The creature reached an impossibly long claw down and yanked me up by my jacket, nose to nose with it. I felt a tug on my consciousness. It felt curiously like getting pulled under water by your feet at a swimming pool. Then I felt something dark and sticky wrap itself around my mind. It began to squeeze in a painful way and black spots formed in front of my eyes, a hissing static was all I could hear.

I don’t know how long it actually lasted, but just when I felt like something inside was going to break- a piercing shrieking noise cut through my head. Matched by a piercing shriek of my own.

I was again flying across the room, in the general direction I had come from. I must have landed on Chris because we were both in a heap on the floor. Chris got to his feet, shoving me out the now miraculously open door.

The cooler air outside smacked into me, snapping me out of my momentary daze. I looked around and saw that Baldy, Chris and Jason were with me in a chalk circle on the sidewalk just outside the door. Across the street, trench coated people silently watched us, periodically looking up at the upper floors of the Waalford.

I followed their gaze and saw to my growing horror that flames and smoke were spouting from open windows. I took a step away from the building to get some distance and was promptly yanked back by Baldy.

“Don’t step outside the circle. We will make a run for it when Emergency Services show up.” Baldy said in a not unkind voice. He saw my intent to argue, “Look Lady! You may ride all over these guys- but you ain’t drivin’ me. Just stay in the circle, we’ll get out of here just as soon as we catch a break.”

I was shocked and aghast! I couldn’t even think snarky thoughts. So a meek ‘OK’ was what Baldy got.

A closer inspection showed me that Jason was out cold. I looked over at Baldy accusingly, but he was otherwise occupied watching the Trench Coats across the street.

“Jason attacked me when Jeff over here got the door open.” Chris murmured in my ear, gesturing towards Baldy. “Jeff had to knock him out. I don’t know how he did it, but he’s a lot stronger than he looks. Something is seriously wrong with Jason; he tossed you like a beanbag across the room. I think I would have been in trouble if Jeff hadn't helped us all out the door.”

I rubbed my sore shoulder, wincing, remembering.

“Lets just hope he doesn’t come to anytime soon.” I said.

“You got that right.” Baldy, I mean Jeff said vehemently. “ I can’t keep this circle up and keep a Demon Touched under control. Here, you better take this. I can trust you to use it on him can’t I?”

He handed me a stun baton. Wow. I’ve never actually used one before; I wonder how bad it hurts…

“Hey! Missy. Eyes on the Demon Touched.” Jeff barked at me, and winked. Yes, I said winked.

“She’s got a mean streak doesn’t she?” he asked Chris, who nodded vigorously. I actually blushed like it was a compliment. WTF?

But, I kept a watchful eye on Jason, slumped against Chris’s legs. Had I heard right- Demon Touched- come on! We would be discussing this again later.

Chris had bags hanging from him and his pry bar out. I felt for my gun, it was gone. Damn, I must’ve lost it inside.

And there it was, held out to me by Jeff. He never took his eyes off the Trench Coats. Jeff had a tattoo on the back of his head. It was a cross with a stylized fish around it with wings; it said Eternal Warrior under it. He had another one across the back of his right hand, it seemed to say Doulos, but it was difficult to read.

A stunned numbness was creeping over me. The events of the last 24 hours were just too unbelievable. I knew at some point in the future the magnitude of the trouble we were in would sink in- and I would surely fall apart. But for now, thankfully, I just couldn't summon the emotions to begin blubbering and ranting.

I could hear sirens in the distance. Finally!

The Trench Coats seemed to take that as a cue. They began to swarm towards us. The malicious intent rolled off of them in terrifying waves.

“Stay in the circle, avoid eye contact and no matter what they say- do not leave the circle until I say to. Are we clear?” Jeff asked.

“Clear.” Chris & I both answered together. Things had gotten so strange it was no longer difficult to suspend the disbelief. In fact, to make it easier on myself, I switched my gaze to Jason and did my best to ignore the oncoming mob.

I knew when they had reached the perimeter of the chalk circle because I could feel it. It felt like a sudden strong gust of wind when you have all of your windows up in a moving vehicle. It had a buffeting effect on us, and we all sort of staggered.

In spite of my resolve, I looked up. The Trench Coats all had glowing gold eyes and a perpetual snarl plastered on their features. Some of them were pleading for help in very human voices; some were obviously threatening us in an inhuman harsh language. They seemed to hit an invisible barrier and then slide off to the side. They kept going down the empty road away from us.

I was beginning to shake when Jeff made a snapping motion with his hands. He reached down and threw Jason over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Now. Follow me, be quiet.” Was all Jeff said. He headed for a dark line of shadows on the other side of the street. Just as we gathered ourselves to cross at the next corner, stepping into a pool of light, a fire truck rounded the corner behind us.

Jeff crouched down, watching the roads as if waiting for another vehicle. We saw another truck go flying through the intersection one block up, behind the Waalford. Jeff stood up, re shouldering Jason and rapidly crossed the road heading for more shadows.

We were another ½ block away when the 2nd truck pulled in behind the first. Jeff moved like a machine while Chris and I struggled to keep up. All the while, we looked over our shoulders, expecting an ambush of Trench Coats at any moment.

Suddenly, Jeff stepped into a blocked off alleyway. He put Jason on the ground, propped against the building and frantically pulled out his chalk. He began kicking and sweeping debris from the ground.

“I don’t think we are going to make it this time. You have to keep them off me until I get the circle up.” He said in a quiet voice, not looking at us. He knelt down and began to draw.

Ch.1 Athena's Iniquitous Gift

2008-11-24T12:24:00.000-08:00

Chapter 1
"We were talking about the space between us all and the people who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion. Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late when they pass away." -George Harrison

To this day I marvel at my continued relationship with Jason. Of course, I lost my rose colored glasses when he dumped me to take an out of town girl to the homecoming dance in high school. We managed to stay friends after a suitable period of punishment that bordered on psychotic stalking on my part. I like to think that I have gained a little perspective, as I've grown older.

Jason had a nickname in high school- “Bondoman”. I helped him sand and paint the Vega, even when we weren't speaking. It's still the same black color, although the worst panels have been replaced. He still keeps a tub of Bondo around just in case.

Chris is our neighbor and cohort. Chris is another high school sweetie, part of the Jason punishment regimen of sophomore year. And another great guy that I was way too hard on. Chris's family is from England and he still has just a touch of the accent. He uses it to full advantage when we go out. The Chris Morris charm is quite legendary.

Jason and I moved to Indiana shortly after high school was over. We both needed a fresh start away from the people who knew us best. He immediately went to work for a garage in a little town called Veedersburg and I worked as a florist and bartender. We did okay most of the time, except when he was 'In Luv'. He had this thing for lunatic women. It seems like there was a crazed jealous woman in the background for years- and it wasn't me.

Chris joined us about 3 months after we moved to Veedersburg. Though the three of us never hung out together in school, we found that we had a great dynamic at parties on the few visits Jason & I took home. Timid with girls in school, Chris had blossomed into a regular ladies man when adulthood began to settle in. He had kind blue eyes, a quick smile and he was always ready with a joke. He still is.

The world has gotten pretty crazy lately. News reports talk about rioting in the major cities and the National Guard has been called up for the last year. I guess we are lucky to be between large urban areas. Being mechanically inclined, we have been pretty much off the grid ever since the energy crisis hit critical mass. We have a well that supplies our little corner of four duplex rentals and recently we installed two windmills for power. They aren't huge, but they are certainly more reliable than the power company. Everyone has solar cell generators, but once they go down its difficult to get them fixed. Chris was taking classes at the community college and learned a little something about the solar tech, just enough to really do some damage I think.

The owners of the duplexes have delivered a notice. They will not be renewing our leases next month. Or anyone else's. I think that they have realized that we are better off in the duplexes than they are in their large house in town. So they'll move in when we leave. I am sorely tempted to take all of our improvements with us. But we can't fit them all in the Vega, and gas mileage has become a life or death issue. No, we'll be traveling light. Besides, they have kids. I just can't punish the kids because their parent’s have a sense of self-preservation.

The feeling of impending doom has cast a pall over everyone we know. The religious experts say it is time for the End of Days. The government promises us that everything will be just fine, but the time for us to Band Together for the Greater Good is Now!! Basically, we are on our own. The government has no money to help anyone, and money has lost a lot of its intrinsic value. My mom (Supreme Authority of All Things Important) prefers to ignore things until they go away, which has been fairly effective for her. She lives outside of Paxton with her new husband (thank Gawd!) and they have every gadget imaginable. They are in better shape than most.

Chris, Jason and I are going to make the trip back to Paxton before they close the roads altogether. Chris's family went back to the UK before the really bad troubles started. Jason's are living in a Mennonite compound, and aren't going to be excited to see all of us.
My family will be thrilled to have us and probably won't want us to leave. Oh Joy!
*************
I took a moment to study Jason’s profile as we pulled away from the duplexes. He was beginning to develop crow’s feet around his eyes, but he still has this unruly mop of dark brown hair. I looked away as he raised his spit can to his lips. I never could get past the chewing, herbal or otherwise. I was in a special kind of Hell when Chris decided to chew as well for about a month. Fortunately, Chris wouldn’t let a silly thing like a habit get in the way of picking up women. Since most women are repulsed by spit cans and chewing in general- the Chew had to go.

Jason turned to look at me and smiled, letting it get all the way up into his eyes. Now, how’s a girl gonna resist that?! He has the softest deep brown eyes that turn hazel every now and then. They were brown and faintly excited today. It was infectious.

Chris leaned forward from the back seat and pointed ahead.

“Look up there, are we too late d’ya think?” Chris gestured, a worried tone in his voice.

“No, they started that a few days ago. Somehow they are tracking the number of vehicles on the main roads between checkpoints.” Jason assured us.

The National Guard has been stationed at on & off ramps along Interstate highways for about a year now. For a while it was to prevent random acts of terrorism through bombs and ramming. Then it also became an issue of stewardship of resources. People were no longer allowed to just drive around by themselves in an empty car. It was considered wasteful (and it really was). Now you had to have a driver and at least one navigator. Emergency services were strained to the limit; it is in everyone’s best interest to have an extra pair of eyes watching for giant gaping potholes and craters.

A nice side effect of the energy crises and the new driving rules is the surge of single person alternatively powered vehicles to be found. Obviously, motorcycles are more common than actual cars these days. Especially on road/off road varieties. Wind Sails, which are sort of like large skateboards with a sail attached, are also fairly common. They usually have a small motor in case the wind isn’t cooperating. They can get moving at a pretty good clip (45-60mph) and are highly maneuverable. Herds of bicyclists are seen from time to time, but rarely singly because of the dangers associated with travel these days. Large trucks are only seen in armed, escorted convoys. Indeed, a string of about 20 trucks were pulled over at the entrance, waiting to begin the journey to the next checkpoint.
****************
It took about 2 hours to make it through the next two check points. We didn’t have to stop for a single wreck and the National Guard must have just patched the major holes up. Up ahead though, in Danville, I could see trouble brewing.

Danville is the regional armpit. No one wants to have to stop out here. With a large population of ex-cons, some from the local prison & some shipped down from Chicago, Danville is not known to be friendly or accommodating. It was economically depressed before everything went to Hell.

Chris was snoozing in the back, but he woke up when he felt us slow down. We didn’t say a word, but we all could feel the rising tension.

Jason pulled us over to the exit line, leaving a nice margin of distance between the next car and us. Chris turned around to watch the car behind us. He’d tell us if they looked like they were too close. It was a little red minivan and they had been sort of ‘buddy driving’ with us since the last checkpoint. They stopped two car lengths behind us and we all let out a quiet sigh of relief. Chris continued to watch out the back. Jason and I watched ahead, crouched sort of low in our seats. If someone had a bomb, this is about where it will be detonated.

The object of these bombings was to railroad trucks into getting off on only the ramps that the pirates wanted them to, or to force the convoys to stay on the interstate. The best way to do that, obviously, is to blow up all of the other exit and entrance ramps. Piracy is punishable by immediate death now, and I am not talking about illegally procuring music and videos.

The line suddenly started moving, lurching forward faster than anticipated. This couldn’t be a good sign…

A Guardsman came in to view, frantically motioning us forward and to the right. The van behind us closed the distance. We were being herded towards a large parking lot a distance away from the exit. As we passed the Guardsman we saw him kneel down and begin to sight in his M-16, towards something coming up from the rear.

Pulling up near the parking lot, we found that it was full. Another Guardsman told us to stop where we were. He spoke on his radio and then approached the car.

Jason lowered his window.

“You’ll have to go to the residential street on the far side of this lot. Pull over along the curb anywhere there is a space.” He said pointing in the direction we needed to go.

“What’s happening?” Jason asked him.

“It looks like someone is trying to take out a convoy coming up from Veedersburg. Move along now, we need to keep this road clear.” He stepped back and motioned at the minivan behind us.

We turned off at the correct road and pulled over, followed by the minivan. We sat and waited for about a minute when a woman got out of the van behind us and walked up to Jason’s window.
I got my 9mm into a functional but not overtly threatening position. I also cracked my door so that all I had to do was lean on it to get it open. What was this woman thinking?

She put both her hands up as she approached. Jason opened his door and swung his legs out.
She stopped about 6 ft away and asked loudly if we knew what was going on. Jason told her what we knew.

Apparently deciding she wasn’t a threat Jason got out of the car. Her van emptied as well, producing an adult male and two children. They all looked tired.

It turns out this family was traveling from Cincinnati. They had been the victims of arson and were trying to get to relatives in St Louis. They had been through this sort of checkpoint madness just outside of Indy. Unfortunately, criminals have taken to eyeballing groups like this for robbery. While the family stopped for gas before getting back on the highway, several men had taken all of the food and many of their belongings. Understandably, they were less than thrilled about having to go through this ordeal again.

We talked about the situation for about 5 minutes, speculating. Suddenly there was a loud boom coming from the direction of the highway. The kids scrambled back to the van. Chris and the woman ran for the corner of the road as Jason & I jumped in the Vega. We backed out to the corner, with the minivan next to us. No one could turn on or off at this corner with us parked there, and that was the way we wanted it. Jason and the man stayed at the wheel of their respective vehicles. Chris & the woman strained to see something around the corner. I lowered my window and squirmed out, sitting in it so I could see over the car and hear Jason & Chris if necessary.

Another loud boom went off and now we could hear the chatter of gunfire. Chris & the woman couldn’t see anything and they came back to their vehicles.

“Irene says that we should try to get a room for the night right now. The ramps are going to be closed for the night most likely, and everyone in these holding lots will be herded into camps for questioning. We have the chance to avoid that if we leave now. She knows of an old senior community that has rooms for the night. What do you think?” Chris asked breathlessly.

The woman, Irene, motioned for us to follow her as the van pulled ahead of us. I looked expectantly at Jason. He shrugged his shoulder and moved forward a bit to indicate we were following. With disaster sirens blaring, we followed the minivan down mostly deserted streets.

Athena's Iniquitous Gift

2008-11-24T11:51:00.000-08:00

Athena's Iniquitous Gift

An Urban Fantasy Novel

What started as a serial novel to stretch my suffering creative muscles, has turned into a full blown novel. A planned trilogy of novels in fact.

I am just getting a feel for blogger.com, so please bear with me. If you have any constructive criticism, please send it! I must warn you in advance that covert aggression masquerading as 'help' will be ignored.

Speaking of aggression, here is a blistering review of this novel in progress: http://webfictionguide.com/urban-fantasy/athenas-iniquitous-gift/ you have to scroll down a bit to see it when you get there. Click on the Reviewer's name if you find you want to know more about her and her preferred reading.

Update 10/6/09- I'm back! The summer performing season has ended and I will be working on the novel again. After re-reading the first chapters (oooh, a bit schlocky) I will start with some editing. Patience from my hoards of followers is much appreciated...

This blog and more info about the author are also available at http://www.bebo.com/BenazirC

and http://www.myspace.com/bellyfusion

The time is 2-3 years in the future, the place is a small midwestern community....

Prologue

Tuareg- 'abandoned by God', Arabic term for ancient Berbers

Timbuktu, Africa

Ikken & Izri shade their eyes as they approach Timbuktu. While happy to arrive safely at their destination, they are concerned about the absence of contact with anyone from the once grand trade city.

No children can be heard playing in the dusty streets as they ride in towards the market. No people roam from home to home. While depressed economically, the inhabitants of Timbuktu are usually a lively bunch.

The walls outside of three homes are scrawled with the words 'we have no gold' and 'no gold here'. The brothers can smell smoke and burnt flesh. Rounding a corner onto the market space the brothers find the citizens. Numerous bodies are hanged and piled onto fire pits. A melted pile of cell phones and computer equipment is near the body of the English historian who took up residence several years ago.

As the brothers head away from the cursed town, Izri asks if Ikken recalls the film crew of a few years ago. Ikken responds, “yes, they were looking for ancient gold. Remember Izri, they never found it here. After they interviewed the historian we took them to Morocco to look for coins minted from the gold...”

“We dance reverently upon Mother Earth, taking small soft steps”- a female Lakota traditional dancer describing the differences between male and female dancing styles.

Hastings MI Pow Wow

“The great Iroquois Nation instituted the 7th Generation vote, giving a voice to people seven generations in the future. In this way, the Iroquois make very ecologically sound decisions, because their great grandchildren are directly represented...”

The Anishnabe food wagon is serving up Fry Bread to a large crowd of spectators. The Pow Wow committee found a great advertising agency to promote this teaching Pow Wow to the public. Ads on TV and the local radio station were placed leading to a larger than normal ratio of spectators to participants.

The crowd has a largely tourist bent and they ask the proprietor some hard questions:
“Do the Indians think that this is the end of the world?” “Will you pray for me?” “Are you going to rise up in revolt and take your land back?”

All this the proprietor takes in with her customary easy smile. Pointing to the bottle of honey and great barrels of iced soda and water, she reassures them that she prays for everyone. Peace is the solution required by her ancestors and a revolt at the end of the world would be pretty useless now wouldn't it?

The participants begin to quiet down and approach the outside of the large circular arena. The elderly have a tarp to sit under, and some of the families are under their own tarps. The recorded drum music stops and the announcer calls for the Honor Guard to approach the Eastern Entrance. The Drums are to please take their seats under the central arbor. The spectators are encouraged to sit around the edge of the arena to observe the Grand Entrance of the Veterans. Everyone is asked to stand to honor those represented in the arena. Many spectators roll their eyes sighing impatiently- they are ready to see some dancing, not fat old men parading around.

One by one, the honor guard are asked to place their staffs facing the Eastern entrance. Some of the spectators, looking for more action, step away from the circle to shop with vendors.
A young girl runs directly through the circle, trying to get to her brother on the other side. The participants, mostly Native American, wear patient smiles. The spectators, however, seem quite agitated by the child's lack of supervision.

The ceremony honoring the Vet's continues, with a dance allowing the participants to honor them in the arena. Some of the spectators begin clapping and cheering, which is generally tolerated even though it isn't the norm. Everyone is just a little relieved to have the spectators and participants on the same page.

When the dance is over, the announcer asks everyone to continue standing. Many people have decided to sit down anyway at this point. In fact, some resentful grumbling can be heard.

A second dance begins, for veterans and servicemen of any nationality. The participants have remained standing the entire time, quietly showing their respect for those in the arena. The elderly and infirm have taken periodic breaks to sit down, but also have remained standing for the most part. The spectators are beginning to feel a little put out. This isn't what they came for; this isn't the way it was advertised on TV. They didn't come here to be beat over the head with sentimental patriotism.

When the announcer asks everyone to remain standing a bit longer, several groups of spectators begin to pack their belongings up. They are exasperated with all of the standing and waiting. How can they be expected to keep their kids under control for this long under a hot sun? They begin to head for the parking lot.

The announcer asks the veterans to please turn around and face the audience. As the veterans turn out, they find they are facing a relatively empty circle. The elderly are under their tarp and the dancers are gathered at the Eastern entrance. The few families under their tarps clap and hoot in appreciation, and the veterans are dignified in their humble acceptance.

An odd undercurrent of resentment has broken out. Several of the participant women bring out bundles of sage to burn. The participants are happy to take part in this cleansing ritual. The women also go into the arena and out to the vending areas.

Some of the spectators are wary of the burning sage, even snatching their children away from the bundles. One boy, certainly old enough to know better, swats a bundle of sage out of an elderly woman's hand.

A group of men from different tribes begin to converge on the Elder woman and boy. The boy's mother shoots him a disparaging look and turns her back, heading for the car. The boy is suitably cowed by the approach of the men and moves to follow his mom.

The Elder woman mumbles a prayer and sprinkles some tobacco where the boy had been standing. She indicates that the men should accompany her back to the announcer's tent.
The announcer calls for a happy opening song from the Lead Drum. A small group, mostly youth, enters the arena. Artfully representing butterflies and birds of prey, the dancers are blissfully unaware of the tension outside the arena. A tight knot of Elders has convened in the announcer’s tent.

“What a fine welcoming dance!” the announcer intones, “I regret to inform everyone that it has been decided to close this Pow Wow to the public. Refunds will be given on your way out. If you are not a registered participant or the guest of a registered participant we must ask you to leave. Again, I repeat, this Pow Wow is now closed to the public. We will take a short pause before we resume dancing.”

Two couples approach the announcer’s tent, loudly asking who is in charge of this event. One man is apparently an attorney, and is looking for a possible lawsuit. As the announcer calmly tries to explain that the participants have always reserved to right to make these events private, the attorney loudly talks over him about false advertising and ticket sales.

At this moment, when the attorney is at his loudest, a rumbles issues forth from the Earth. It lasts for about 3 seconds, and there is a loud feedback shriek from the PA system. Everyone is quiet for a moment.

The attorney starts in again- and again the Earth rumbles loudly, seeming to gather strength. Leaves and loose branches fall from trees. Several of the women begin to head for the arena, motioning to the Drums to begin a song. They sprinkle tobacco on the ground and burn their sage sticks. As they dance, the rumblings quiet down. Their steps are small and careful upon Mother Earth with whom they have a special bond.

The Dreaming-'more real than reality itself, and existing forever in parallel time'

Family Apartment in Melbourne Australia

On the TV an announcer is talking about the continuing violence in Morocco. The unrest is fueled by tribal rhetoric claiming that the citizens of Morocco have stolen the heritage of the First People of Africa. Bandits have been raiding coin dealers in search of coins minted from gold originating in Timbuktu.

A young girl, next to the TV looks out the window of her 5th floor apartment. The city is reminiscent of a war zone, and she wants to know when she can play outside again.
“For God's sake, get her away from the window! We don't need anyone to know there are still people in this building.” her father snaps.

A shudder rocks the room and more cracks appear in the ceiling. Glass is heard breaking down the hall within the apartment. A new explosion booms in the distance.

Being law-abiding citizens, this family is at a defensive disadvantage. Afraid to face the armed and criminally opportunistic mob in the street, this family has decided to wait out the destructive quakes and flooding.

A knock is heard at the door. The family falls into an uneasy silence.