Rapture (30 page)

Another Hellhound entered the clearing. Behind it were more Lemure. Many more. As the remaining Astaroth descended, the surrounding rock shimmered and then finally flickered out of existence to be replaced by white walls.

He’d done it. He’d got them out of Hell.

Although where he’d taken them was anyone’s guess.

“Even my own familiar friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me”.

Sam looked around. Thankfully, they were alone in what appeared to be the crossing of the church building, right in the middle of the left and right transepts. It was daytime; pale light seeped in through the numerous stain-glassed windows. Many of the beautiful arched windows were broken, and before them was the stone altar, shattered and desecrated by blood. The pentagram that surrounded them still burnt with unholy fire, pervading the air with its sulphurous stench. Even as Sam watched, the flames spluttered and then went out completely.

They were definitely in a church, but whether it was the one that Joshua had in mind was undetermined. It seemed to match the image Josh had given him. Not that it mattered; the important thing was that they were no longer in Hell.

“Well?” he asked Joshua. The other boy looked thoroughly disorientated and his eyes were a little unfocused.

Joshua blinked slowly,gradually taking in his surroundings. “Yes,” he said eventually. “This is the place. It’s St Joseph’s. We’re in downtown L.A.” He grinned. “You did it.”

“No,” said Sam, returning the grin. “We did it.” Grace draped an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Well done, boys.”

Sam smiled at her gratefully.

“Now what?” Joshua asked no-one in particular.

“Well, for starters, we all need some new clothes. You especially, Sam,” said Grace, looking him up and down with a crooked smile.

She was right. The encounter with the Hellhound had served to rob him of most of his outfit. His shirt was just scraps of charred material while his pants looked like they were going to fall off him any second. They were still smoking. Joshua and Grace looked a little better although Sam knew that they would all need to change. Jonah had no doubt already sent word to the Antichrist that they had escaped. Everyone in California would probably be looking for three teenagers matching their description.

The Antichrist would be expecting them to travel overland from Las Vegas; he probably had no idea about Sam’s new abilities. Or did he? Would the demons they had encountered in Hell report to the Antichrist? Even if they did, they surely didn’t know where they had gone. Surely? Sam didn’t feel confident. Luck just might be on their side, but he doubted it. He certainly hadn’t had a great deal of it so far. It would be best to assume that the Antichrist knew they were in L.A, that way they would be prepared for any surprises.

“Joshua?” asked Sam. “Any ideas where we might get some clothes?”

“We can check out the Vestry. That’s where my uncle and the other priests got changed. There must be some clothes in there.”

“Good enough.”

Josh led them past the shattered altar. There were two doors on either side of it. Josh selected the left one and they found themselves in a small room containing a few free-standing wooden closets and some old benches. Sam checked the first of the closets and was rewarded with the sight of clothes hanging on racks. Not vestments either – these were the clothes the priests changed out of and in to after their services. Normal clothes. Sam silently gave his thanks.

He selected some that he thought might fit him at a push and went into a corner to change. Joshua and Grace were rummaging around in the other closets, trying to find suitable attire.

As Sam changed, he happened to glance over his shoulder. Grace was watching him and when their eyes met she quickly averted her gaze. “Sorry,” she said. Sam found himself blushing.

He finished changing and examined himself. Clearly the clothes he had liberated had once dressed a smaller man. Smaller with a much larger stomach. The shirt was much too tight across his shoulders, arms and chest but billowed out over his flat stomach. The pants were better, only showing an inch or so of ankle. Next to him, Joshua had had more success – his clothes fitted him almost perfectly. Sam eyed him up jealously.

Grace declared loudly that she had found some suitable clothes, telling the two boys that they weren’t to turn around under any circumstances. Sam confessed that he was tempted to sneak a peek as she had with him, but he wasn’t about to chance it. He’d seen how proficient she was at throwing rocks.

Eventually, they got the all clear from Grace and turned around. She was dressed in a long sleeved shirt and suit pants. Both were too big for her diminutive frame but she had rolled up the sleeves and the legs to compensate.

“You need a hat,” she said to Sam, running her eyes over him critically. “And something to hide your swords in. They’re a dead giveaway.”

Sam agreed. The Antichrist’s agents would be looking for a horned boy with two swords. No point in making it easy for them.

The three of them went through all the closets. In the last closet they searched, Joshua found a Dodgers baseball cap which he threw to Sam. It also contained a bag with two baseball bats inside. Fortunately for them, at least one priest had been a baseball fan.

Sam put his swords and Joshua’s bat inside. The wakizashi fitted easily, but the katana poked out a little at the top. He shrugged; it would have to do. As an afterthought, he pulled out the katana again and unsheathed the sword. He tipped the sheath upside down and shook it. A tiny battered piece of white paper fluttered out.

“What’s that?” asked Grace.

Sam picked up the paper and unfolded it. “When we were in Black Ridge, their leader, Adam, gave me some details. He said that if we should ever make it to L.A, to look this guy up. They were in the Special Forces together. Adam’s been talking to him on the short wave radio. Last time they spoke, he and some other guys were fighting some sort of guerrilla war out here against the Antichrist. They could help us.”

Sam had almost forgotten about the tiny scrap of paper Adam had given them just before they left Black Ridge. Part of him never thought he would actually get to

L.A so he had put it firmly at the back of his mind. On the paper, in tiny but neat and legible script was a name and an address. He showed it to Josh.

“Know where this is?”

Joshua shook his head. “No idea. But I do know that there’s a book shop not far from here. There’s bound to be a map inside.”

“Fine,” He looked at the others. “Any other ideas?” No one answered. “Well, in that case, I think we go and see this guy. What have we got to lose?”

Outside it appeared to be around midday although it was hard to tell exactly as the cloud cover seemed to extinguish the light from the sky. The streets were almost completely deserted. Like Vegas, L.A had apparently become a city of the night. They avoided the few people they saw, trying hard not to appear too furtive.

It reminded Sam of Las Vegas in the sense that the streets had been kept relatively clear. There was only a loose smattering of ash on the ground, despite the fact that the stuff was still fluttering down in a light shower. A few cars were parked and others drove slowly down the unnaturally quiet streets. Also like Vegas, L.A had seemed to get off relatively lightly from the natural disasters immediately following the Rapture. Sam could see some fire- gutted shops, mostly boarded up, and the occasional heap of rubble that marked where a building had once stood.

They followed Joshua as he led them down various side streets. Eventually they came to the bookshop Joshua had remembered from his earlier trip to the city. It was boarded up.Setting his bat bag on the ground and casting wary glances behind them, Sam ripped the planks off the door. Inside, it was dark, the slotted blinds on the windows allowing only thin streams of light to enter. There had been a fire; half the shop was blackened with soot, books lying in charred heaps. They found the map section after about ten minutes of careful searching. Fortunately, it hadn’t been amongst the burnt sections and Joshua found a map guide to L.A.

“What’s the address?” he asked.

Sam took out the piece of paper from his pocket and examined it. “75 Kohler,” he said.

Joshua searched through the book and found the map he wanted. “Found it,” he said, smiling. “Luck is with us today. It’s within walking distance. Probably half an hour to an hour.” Sam looked at the map. Joshua was right; they weren’t far away at all.

Sam nodded. “Good. Let’s get going.” They rounded up Grace who seemed absorbed by some book she’d found in the fantasy section of the bookshop. Sam poked his head out the door. When he confirmed it was all clear, he led the others out of the shop.

They walked in silence, unwilling to draw attention to themselves in such an eerily quiet place. Sam could see that Joshua and Grace were finding the stifling heat unpleasant, but they didn’t complain. Anything was better than Hell.

Cars passed by, some of the occupants casting glances their way. Once, they saw a police car but thankfully, it turned down another street before it got close to them. Sam knew they would never pass serious scrutiny. For one, they didn’t possess the tattoo that marked them as followers of the Antichrist.

They came to Kohler Street without incident. It was lined with almost identical industrial shops, businesses and warehouses. 75 had ‘Cash and Carry’ written on a sign outside. It looked little different to the ones adjacent to it, but Sam supposed that was the point. Whoever was inside didn’t exactly want to advertise their presence. The front door itself was one solid sheet of iron with a tiny covered slot at eye level. Whoever these resistant fighters were, they had chosen their location carefully. The iron would certainly deter demon attack. Sam wasn’t about to touch the door either.

Joshua knocked. There was absolute silence. After a few moments, Sam’s sensitive ears picked up some movement from inside. The slot in the door slid open and two suspicious eyes glared out.

“What?” the voice demanded.

“We’re here to see … um …”

“Dan,” provided Sam helpfully. “Adam sent us.”

“What he said,” Joshua said.

The eyes looked around carefully, scanning the three teenagers and the landscape behind them. “Wrists.”

“What?” asked Joshua, plainly confused.

“Show me your wrists, stupid. Have you got the mark?”

Sam and Grace held up their wrists so the person at the door could see. Joshua held up his bandaged wrist.

“Undo that bandage,” demanded the voice.

Hesitantly, wincing with pain, Joshua did as he was told. Underneath was a wound that was scored deep into the flesh of his wrist. It was heavily scabbed.

The voice looked at it for a moment and then bobbed its head. Sam was aware that he’d been holding his breath. The slot slammed shut. After another moment, they heard the sound of heavy bolts being drawn and the door opened. Sam breathed with relief.

There was a figure standing in heavy shadow within the shop. “Get in, quick.”

They piled in. No sooner had they done so when the door was slammed shut again and the bolts drawn.

They found themselves facing three soldiers dressed in fatigues. All were armed with heavy machine-guns, currently pointed in their direction.

“Down on the floor,” ordered the man who’d let them in. “Casey, search them.”

They did as they were told while their bodies were searched by one of the soldiers.

“This is all they’ve got, Captain,” said the soldier - presumably Casey - holding up the bat bag.

“Ok, fine. Put them in the holding cell until the Colonel gets back.”

They were hauled to their feet and marched out the back of the shop into a large warehouse. The place was a beehive of activity with a great many people; some sleeping behind a partially curtained off alcove, some cleaning weapons, others working at long tables. Most were in uniform. There were a number of vehicles inside, at least two jeeps, several Humvees and what looked like an armoured personnel carrier and a light tank. The three soldiers took them to the rear of the building where there was a makeshift holding-cell consisting of bars welded into a cage structure.

Casey held the door open and gestured with his rifle. “Get in.”

“Can I talk to Dan please?” asked Sam, as all three of them shuffled into the cramped compartment. “It’s important.”

“Lots of stuff is important. You three aren’t. The Colonel might come and talk to you when he gets back. Might.”

The guards left them. Inside the cage were some dirty mattresses, rolled up into one corner.

“Well, that didn’t go precisely as we’d planned,” said Joshua.

“At least we’re here,” said Sam. “And it looks like they’re organized. It could be a lot worse.”

“Certainly could,” agreed Grace. She eyed up the mattresses. “I don’t know about you fellas, but I’m going to try and get some sleep. It looks like we could be in for a bit of a wait.”

Hours later, Sam heard the roller doors opening. He couldn’t see much through the press of bodies and activity that seemed to whirl around the newcomers, but from the glimpse he caught of the outside, it was dark. Joshua and Grace, asleep on mattresses, woke with a start, disturbed by the sudden increase in noise. Sam himself hadn’t slept – since being in Hell, he had felt refreshed. Even the injury caused by the Hellhound was healing rapidly. In another day or so he knew, it would be gone.