Rapture (23 page)

When he got back to Jacob’s Ladder, many of the buildings were ablaze. The few people he saw were staggering about in shock, making no effort to put them out. Main Street was littered with empty cars, their occupants all taken by the Rapture, their clothes left empty on the car seats and sidewalk. His own clothes were smoking after being hit by several burning fragments but he simply ignored it, hardly registering the blistering pain.

Sam knew that the eight hundred odd residents of his town were mostly devout. He’d surreptitiously followed Aimi and Hikari to church on a number of occasions and he’d seen that the small church was almost overflowing with devotees. Standing room only. In fact, Father Rainey had spoken of building a new, bigger church, although Sam wondered why he was bothering. Hikari was even on the fund raising committee for it.

Despite an urge to help the few people he encountered, he didn’t have time. He raced to his house. It seemed to have been spared the worst. The earthquake had hardly touched it although something on the roof appeared to be smouldering. The front door was ajar and he stormed in, shouting wildly. There was no answer. He raced up the stairs, darting into each room, impossible hope pounding in his chest. All empty. Downstairs was the same. The dining room table was already set for the evening meal. In the kitchen, many of the cupboard doors were open, some of their contents lying smashed on the floor.

Of Hikari and Aimi there was no sign. They were gone. Gone forever.

With heavy steps, he returned upstairs and sat down on the floor of Aimi’s room. Her summer dress was still on the bed. She must have been sitting on it at the time. He touched them gently, reverently, smelling the perfume that still lingered.

He felt something trickle down his face and he wiped it away irritably. When he looked at the back of his hand, he found trails of red. He had never cried in his life; in fact, he could not cry with no tear ducts. But now, at last, he was. He was crying tears of blood. For her.

He sank to his knees, absolutely full of despair and sadness. For a long time, droplets of blood continued to fall into his lap.

Sometime later, he roused himself and went downstairs. He sat at the table staring despondently at the three settings, the feeling of loss so strong he thought he could taste it. He served himself the last meal Aimi had prepared and ate it in cold silence, more as something to do than from any feeling of hunger. She had made him his favourite food, but now it tasted of ash, almost as if the dust falling from the sky had got into the dish.

Later still, he found himself sitting on the couch in the lounge, not quite sure how he got there. He couldn’t remember moving. He sat there for what could have been hours, so still that someone entering the house at that time might have mistaken him for a statue.

Eventually, he shook himself like a dog removing excess water from its coat and stood. And then he began to scream. His scream was more of a roar, pouring out of him in a great torrent. Screaming for his loss, venting his pain. He kept going until he was completely out of breath and then he began again. After some time, he was spent and collapsed back onto the couch.

This was exactly what Aimi and Hikari wouldn’t want him to do. Wrapping himself in his grief and misery, while understandable, was hardly a positive step. He had to go on. To move on with his life and do what he had been tasked with. For their sakes.

He needed to do something. Anything to keep him busy and take his mind off the shattering events of the last few hours. Taking a bucket of water from the large rain barrel they used for watering the garden, he climbed up onto the roof. It didn’t take him long to extinguish all the embers from the hail of fire that were starting to smoulder.

Back in the house, he went upstairs and into his bedroom. On the only shelf in the room was his sword rack. His swords were nestled within it, waiting for him.

Strapping them on, he returned downstairs and left by the front door.

It was dark now and the street was deserted. The lights were still on but Sam didn’t think that would last long. Some of the less damaged shops had lights on, too, but Sam suspected that they were automated. The practical side of his nature told him that he’d have to check those shops out shortly for supplies but that was a job for another day.

Right now, he had something more important to do.

Providence Street had survived the earthquake more or less intact. The front veranda of Father Rainey’s house had collapsed though, making entry that way into the house almost impossible. Sam was forced to go around the back. Inside, the house was as empty as his own.

It looked like the priest and his nephew had both been taken by the Rapture. After pacing around the house for a while, Sam finally noticed that something was different: the lack of nausea. Normally, being this close to the church would make him sick to his stomach.

Curious, he left the house and walked up to the iron gates that marked the entrance to the church. Still nothing. Experimentally, already wincing in anticipation of the pain, he placed one foot in the grounds. He almost cried out with the surprising lack of … well, anything. There was absolutely no sensation.

He took another step. Nothing. Confident that the church grounds had suddenly lost their ability to hurt him, he started walking towards the front door.

Then a smooth voice that he recognized immediately stopped him cold in his tracks.

“We meet again, Samael.”

Sitting on the roof of the church was the demon he met many months earlier - the one that he’d promised himself he would kill.

“You’re looking well,” said the demon sarcastically, his eyes running over the scorched parts of Sam’s clothing.

“You won’t be looking so well if you came down here and faced me.”

“Ooh, I’m scared,” said the demon, pretending to be fearful. “You really are quite angry, aren’t you?”

“I’ll show you just how angry I can be if you give me an opportunity.”

The demon laughed. “Yes. I like that anger. Keep hold of it; it will come in useful later on.”

“What do you want?” demanded Sam.

“Just paying a courtesy call,” said the demon, smiling. “Wanted to see how you liked what we’ve done with the place. And when I mean the place, I mean the Earth.”

Sam pinched his lips shut, refusing to be antagonized by this creature. “What have you done here?”

“You mean the church? Bit different since last time you were here, isn’t it? It’s simple, really. We’ve brought hell to Earth and as such, these grounds are no long holy. Go on. Have a look for yourself. I know you want to.”

Sam glared at him suspiciously, sensing a trick. But he did really want to go inside. The last time, in spite of the pain and suffering it had caused, had been an experience like no other. He was intensely curious.

Keeping a wary eye on the demon perched above him, he walked up the stairs. The doors, as usual, were ajar. Inside, nothing seemed to be amiss at first. He walked down the row of pews, wary and alert for the first signs of danger or something out of place.

At the foot of the altar lay the statue of Christ. Whether it had fallen during the earthquake or been smashed by inhuman hands, Sam didn’t know. The result was the same - it had been shattered into a thousand different pieces. Sam remembered how the statue had looked at him years earlier and was filled with sadness. As he got closer, he realized that there was something staining the altar. It looked like blood. He got closer; yes, it was definitely blood. He could smell the metallic tang in the air

He turned to find the demon just a handful of feet away from him, smiling. Enmity surged through him. “What have you done here?” he roared and charged at the creature.

The demon smiled and simply disappeared a fraction of a second before Sam could reach him, reappearing several more feet away.

“You would be wise to stop doing that,” said the demon as Sam charged towards him again.

This time, just before Sam could grab him, some force slammed into him, throwing him off his feet and backwards into the wall of the church. Pews exploded around him as he slammed into the ground. He lay prone on the flagstones, stunned.

Eventually, with a groan, he sat up. The demon was sitting cross-legged on one of the nearby pews. “I warned you,” he said, still smirking.

Sam glared at him and got gingerly to his feet. Nothing appeared broken although experience had taught him that his bones were unusually tough and despite his rigorous combat training, he had never once broken a bone. He looked behind him. The church wall was shattered where he had impacted with it. A human would have been crushed by such an impact.

He really couldn’t work this demon out. It was clearly a very powerful creature; probably one of the Princes of Hell. Obviously, it could kill him if it wanted. Why hadn’t it?

“Just kill me and get it over with,” he said.

The demon laughed. “Why would I want to do that? Plans are afoot. There is much you are required to do before your time is up. There are things I need you to do for me.”

“For you?” said Sam, aghast. “I’ll never do anything for you.”

“Not consciously, no,” the demon concurred. “But it’s the things you’ll do of your own free will that I’m interested in.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. This demon confused him, and he suspected it was deliberate. He changed the subject. “What have you done to the altar?”

For a second, the handsome features of the demon flickered, to be replaced by something so horrible that Sam’s mind refused to acknowledge it. It was so quick that Sam thought he was seeing things, as the shock of the Rapture and Tribulation took their toll on him.

The demon considered Sam for a moment without speaking, almost as if he was reassessing the teenager that stood before him. Something in his manner changed and he suddenly became less flippant, less charming.

“We’ve done here what is being done to every church in the world. We purged it, with blood as you can see. The altar and the cross were the chief symbols of the power that used to dominate here. We destroyed their ability to influence the petty humans you love so much.”

Understanding came to Sam in a sudden rush. “You sacrificed someone?” he whispered in horror.

“Don’t worry, it was no-one you knew. Well, no-one you knew very well, at least. You really should go home and rest now. There’s a few surprises in store for you. You’re going to need your strength over the next few nights.”

Sam felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and he covered his face with his hands in despair. The demons had killed someone on the altar, just to ensure that any survivors couldn’t use this place as a refuge. Fury grew within him again. Suddenly, he didn’t care what this demon could do to him, didn’t care that his powers were much greater than his. All he wanted to do was put his blades between the creature’s ribs.

He took his hands away from his face but he was too late; the demon had gone, and he was alone in the desecrated church.

Numb, he stumbled outside. The rooftop was empty. For the first time, he noticed that the cross on the church steeple had fallen down. He searched around the grounds and found the heavy iron object broken on the ground. Normally, he could feel the holiness of objects such as this one radiating their purity. Now, he just felt nothing. The broken cross was now nothing more than two pieces of metal.

Suddenly, he wanted to be gone from this place. It was no longer a beacon for good. The demons had taken that away, just like they had taken away any chance of salvation.

With one last glum look backwards, he made his way slowly out of the church yard.