Rapture (5 page)

While he waited for the beans to heat, he moved silently to the edge of the depression and gazed down at the airport. Jacob’s Ladder airport was a small domestic airport, catering to the skiers, mountain bikers and other outdoor enthusiasts who once frequented the area. A small terminal, silent and grey, sat to the left of the runway.

Two small planes were standing on the runway, doors open but seemingly abandoned. Judging by their coating of ash, they had not moved for some time. He could just make out the tail of another plane down the far end of the runway. It looked like it attempted to take off but had failed and crashed into the safety barrier. Sam couldn’t be sure, but from this distance, it appeared to be blackened with fire.

The image reminded him of the events following the massive volcanic eruptions in Iceland and Chile some years earlier. Flights around the world had been disrupted because of the dangers of flying in ash clouds. It seemed that these planes had been affected in a similar way. Perhaps the two on the runway had simply refused to start? Maybe a pilot had managed to get the third going which then choked just before take-off, hurtling the doomed plane into the crash barrier …

There were no signs of life anywhere; no movement at all other than the gentle flutter of dust. There weren’t any bodies visible either but this wasn’t surprising – the demons were thorough. Either that, or the bodies were shrouded in ash.

Sam shrugged and turned back to his cooker. The beans were hot but he scooped them into his mouth with his fingers, oblivious to the heat. Ash had fallen into the mix but he didn’t care and ate every last morsel. He licked the juice from the bottom of the pot, still hungry but unwilling to deplete his already sparse supplies. There was more buried in the Devil’s Garden but that food would have to sustain him during his trek over the Rockies.

He took out his water bottle and had a swig. Hardly satisfying, but enough to moisten his tongue. Using a cloth to wipe out the pot – water was too precious to waste on cleaning – Sam put everything carefully back into his pack. He settled it comfortably around his shoulders, did a quick weapon check and then strode over the edge of the crater towards the terminal.

From one of his few visits to the place, he recalled that the airport contained vending machines. Vending machines meant snacks. He wasn’t hopeful – they’d probably been cleared out like most of the shops and houses in Jacob’s Ladder – but it was worth a shot. As he trudged towards it, he reflected that the Astaroth had done him a favour, albeit a small one and mistakenly given. It had moved him closer to his initial goal of Devil’s Garden – only by a couple of miles , but a couple of miles was better than nothing.

Perhaps he could subdue an Astaroth and harness it, using it to transport himself over the Rockies? Flying would be preferable to walking. Instantly Sam realized his stupidity. If last night was anything to go by, he doubted whether he’d be able to defeat an Astaroth in combat, let alone subdue it to an extent that he could ride it.

Not for the first time did he question his refusal to drive on this journey. Hikari had never taught him to drive and the need never arose; not once in his almost eighteen years had he left Jacob’s Ladder or its surrounds. But he was sure he could learn. How hard could it be? Pretty much all the other teenagers in Jacob’s Ladder were doing it. Or had been doing it. He’d even gone so far as to try out one of the abandoned cars parked on the side of Main Street. The owner had clearly been taken by the Rapture – their clothes were still gathered in a pile on the driver’s side and the keys were still in the ignition. The controls seemed simple enough and he’d got the hang of it pretty quickly. Put it into drive, go forward; reverse, go backwards. The handbrake had flummoxed him for a while but he had eventually worked it out.

A car and the ability to drive it would make the journey to Los Angeles that much quicker – and easier. He’d sat and thought about it for a while, idly playing with the keys, and realized that while it seemed like a good idea at first, the plan was deeply flawed. Many roads between Jacob’s Ladder and Los Angeles would no doubt be blocked by traffic – cars like this one that had been emptied of their occupants by the Rapture. Then there was gas to consider. The sole gas station in Jacob’s Ladder had been sucked dry by those fleeing the town following the Rapture, and Sam suspected that most gas stations across the country would be in a similar state.

So driving was out. Flying an Astaroth - out too. Resigned to his present course of action, Sam continued walking towards the terminal.

Closer inspection revealed that the building was heavily fire damaged. One whole wing had collapsed, presumably as a result of the numerous earthquakes directly following the Rapture. As he got closer to the glass and corrugatediron structure, something moved behind one of the sooty glass windows. It was a fleeting glimpse but Sam was sure it must be human. The image of a dirt-smeared and terrified face burned into his retinas.

Cautiously, he moved towards the entrance. The doors had been smashed off their hinges and Sam spied traces of Lemure prints in the ash. He put one hand on the reassuring hilt of his wakizashi and edged into the building. It appeared deserted. He crept over towards the window where he thought he saw the face. Fresh footprints in the dust and ash traced a path towards the far end of the terminal.

He bent down to examine the tracks more closely. Definitely human - he could tell from the tread marks of soles. Lemure, from his experience, didn’t wear shoes.

A door slammed. The noise startled him; he was standing and the wakizashi was half cleared of its sheath before he even realized it. He waited, frozen in a fighting stance with the wakizashi still drawn, but the terminal remained eerily silent. Over the last few weeks, he had become accustomed to the lack of sound with the departure of many humans and most wildlife, but the terminal seemed even more unnaturally quiet.

He crept forward, his eyes trying to take in everything at once. Part of his conscious mind registered the existence of two vending machines, and although they appeared empty, he noted them mentally for later investigation.

Nothing emerged. No humans. No demons. Still no sound. Taking cautious strides, he picked up the pace. The footprints led to a heavy door set behind the check-in counter. Long, deep scratches that he immediately recognized as the work of Lemure claws scarred the door. He paused, bent down and placed his ear against it. Even then, though the door was clearly thick and stoutly built, he thought he could hear some shuffling and whispering issuing from behind it. His hearing, like his vision, had always been acute.

He knocked, hesitantly at first, and then progressively more firm. There was no answer but he could hear movement. Someone was standing on the other side of the door.

He stopped knocking. Silence, then a hesitant voice.

“Go away.”

“I’m human,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.” It was probably pointless but he had to try.

“Go away,” said the voice again, more firmly this time.

“I have some food,” he said. It was true – he did have some food – but not really enough to share. A part of him, a selfish part that was probably his demonic side, wanted to leave them to their fate. There was another piece of him, however, that Hikari and Aimi had nurtured over the years, that told him that this was not the right thing to do.

He heard whispering behind the door again. There was a scrape as a series of bolts were being drawn and then the door opened a crack. An eye and part of a dirty face peered out at him.

“What sort of food?”

The person - Sam couldn’t be sure whether it was male or female – was clearly terrified. Only the thought of food had made them take this desperate move.

Sam shrugged. “Beans, mostly. Here, I’ll show you.”

The eye watched him closely as he drew the katana out of its sheath. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he laid the sword gently on the ground and took off his backpack, unsnapping the clasps and tilting the pack towards the door so the contents could be seen.

The door opened a fraction wider. “I can’t see,” said the voice. “Put the pack down and step away.”

It made sense. It was very gloomy in the terminal and the inside of Sam’s pack was probably even gloomier. He could see clearly but the human probably couldn’t. Sam knew it was probably a bad move, but he did as he was asked.

As soon as he was a few metres away, the door opened wide enough for a gaunt, dirty human to emerge. It was male, probably no older than Sam and vaguely recognisable as one of the teenage boys from town. The boy darted out, grabbed the pack with one grubby hand, and was about to carry his prize back into the room when Sam moved.

Understandably, the teenager had clearly underestimated Sam’s speed - the innate demonic reflexes honed by years of training. No human could possibly match them …

Sam grasped the pack and there was a brief tussle for possession before the human boy capitulated, aware that he couldn’t compete with such strength. He let go and attempted to scurry back through the door. Before the boy could slam it shut, Sam scooped up his katana with his free hand and wedged his foot into the opening. The heavy door crashed into Sam’s toes but he hardly noticed the impact.

He pushed the door open, sending the boy sprawling back into a windowless, dimly lit room. It was a storage room by the look of it – racks and shelves were piled with bags and other assorted travel items. A small kerosene lantern cast flickering, uncertain light over the scene. It was more than enough for Sam to see clearly. Behind a makeshift wall of luggage, three figures huddled together, casting fearful glances in Sam’s direction.

The boy scampered to his feet, leapt the mountain of luggage and joined the other terrified figures.

“Please don’t hurt us,” said one of them – a woman. Probably the boy’s mother. Other than the boy, she was the biggest of the four. The other two were clearly children. One of them started to sob.

Sam said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak. These people would’ve taken his food and left him to starve. He felt anger well up inside him like smouldering embers that had just been rekindled.

“I know you,” said the boy, a look of recognition sweeping over his face. He stood more upright and moved away from his mother.

Sam nodded, but still said nothing.

“You’re that freak,” the boy said. “The one that lives with Aimi and that little Japanese man on Main Street.”

Sam recognized him then. He was a senior at high school. The same age as him. He’d met him before, even saved his life – not that the boy ever thanked him. Sam racked his memory for the boy’s name.

“So, you remember me then, do you, Jake?” he asked in a low voice.

Jake’s eyes widened fractionally. His eyes flickered to the katana still in Sam’s hand and then to the wakizashi tucked in his waist. Sam could guess what was going through the other boy’s mind. He had just called a well-armed intruder a freak. Not only that, but he was unarmed himself with his mother and two younger siblings to protect. Given the past relationship the two boys had had, it was not a good move. Not a good move at all.

Jake attempted a nervous smile which came out more as a grimace and not even close to the reassuring gesture he’d intended.

“I do remember you,” said Jake, his voice a hoarse whisper. “But … but, aren’t you one of them? You’re a demon.” The boy was almost pleading with him, like he wanted Sam to disagree with him and tell him it wasn’t so.

Sam smiled. Some of the teenage boys in the town had always had their suspicions. He expected this. He’d been treated this way all his life. Distrust, hatred – it was all the same to him now. He wondered why he even bothered to help those who renounced him, but then the faces of Hikari and Aimi – especially Aimi – flashed into his mind and he knew why. He did it for their sake, for the sake of those he loved.

“Only half,” he replied, pulling down his hood to show them his horns.

The mother gasped, gathering the two small children closer to her bosom. Jake seemed to shrink within himself and unconsciously shuffled closer to his family.

“What are you going to do with us?”asked the mother. She was trying to put on a brave face, but Sam could tell she was almost paralysed with fear. Like Jake and the children, she was terribly thin. Her clothes were ripped and torn in places and her hair and the bits of skin that Sam could see were covered in filth. They had obviously been here some time.

Not a bad choice, he mused. The room was relatively secure – it seemed to have resisted the attacks of the Lemure so far – and he could see large half-filled water containers and piles of vending machine wrappers in one corner.

“I’m going to help you,” said Sam, “and give you the food you would’ve taken if I’d let you.”

He dropped his pack, put down his katana again and pulled out five cans of beans – nearly half his remaining supply – and stacked them neatly in front of him. He still had his stash in Devil’s Garden but was unsure how long that would last. This was meant to be his reserve and was probably the difference between crossing the Rockies in reasonable condition and starvation. But – and he had to keep telling himself this – it was the right thing to do.

The four humans eyed the food greedily. As soon as he turned his back, they would pounce on it like hungry jackals.

Sam secured his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He picked up the katana with the toe of his shoe, flicked it into the air, caught it and sheathed it all in one movement. It was part theatrics and part warning, but he could see from their wide eyes that it had made the required impact.

No-one moved, no-one talked. For a moment, Sam had a vision of how this scene would look in a painting: the huddled, pathetic figures in the corner confronted by the tall, menacing demon warrior in dim, flickering light. Then a wave of sorrow passed over him. His anger was completely gone, washed away by this new emotion. These people were harmless and desperate, lack of belief their only sin. The woman’s husband was gone and her family had lost their father. They had hardly any food, little water and lived under the constant nightly threat of being taken by demons. No wonder they tried to steal his food.