The Incubus, Succubus and Son of Perdition Box Set: The Len du Randt Bundle (69 page)

 

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The drive to the supermarket was a
quiet one. Andrew wondered how he had misunderstood the basic message of
Christianity all the years growing up as a devout follower. Trevor wondered how
his own thoughts had so easily been infiltrated and swayed; while René still
basked in the afterglow of ‘being touched by Gaia.’

Trevor could recall the countless hours that he and
Norman debated about the Bible and Christianity as a whole. Sometimes he had
the upper hand, and sometimes Norman would send him home thinking; but not once
had he ever felt like converting. Until now, that is.

His mind raced, and he would have given his right arm
to hear what Norman would say about the whole affair. He knew that the feeling
would blow over soon—it always did when he felt this way—but he also felt
vulnerable for as long as the doubt lingered.

They finally arrived at the superstore, and the three
of them split up to pick up their own individual groceries. Occasionally, when
passing each other in the isles, they would greet one another as strangers
would—with a nod and a smile—before moving past each other without saying a
word. They would then laugh as they sprinted toward the next article on the
shelves that they wanted. Eventually, the sprinting resulted in racing, each
trying to finish before the others. Andrew won, followed shortly by René, and
then Trevor.

‘What’s that?’ René asked, pointing to what at first
appeared to be a fancy metal detector.

‘That’s a Shield line,’ the cashier said as she scanned
René’s articles.

‘A Shield line?’ Trevor asked from behind René. ‘What’s
that?’

The cashier stopped scanning and gawked at Trevor with
an,
are you stupid or just stone aged
expression on her face. ‘The
Shield line is our fastest queue in the supermarket,’ the cashier said. ‘It
works with the new
Shield of Victor
technology.’

‘The Shield of Victor?’

The cashier sighed. ‘Don’t you guys
ever
watch
T.V?’

‘Some,’ Trevor said, unsure of how to answer the
question. He had heard the term before on GMN, but wasn’t sure what it was
exactly.

‘It’s been on the television all week now,’ she said.

‘That explains it,’ René said. ‘We’ve been working
night shift this entire week.’

‘Well, watch the documentary at eight tonight. It
should teach you more about the Shield and what it could do for you.’

The three left with their groceries and a chill ran
down Trevor’s spine as he stole another glance at the Shield line.

 

 

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Mary liked their new friends.
Kassim and Nasreen had become like family to them and their two daughters were
a blessing to Mary, who treated the young ones as her own. Things were
beginning to settle in the Freedman household, and even though it would be
different from now on, she still embraced their new future.

Kassim had assured them that they would only stay until
construction on the new city had begun, but neither Malcolm nor Mary wanted
them to go.

Ameena—Kassim’s youngest daughter—entered the kitchen,
carrying dinner dishes that she had collected throughout the house.

‘Thank you, sweetie,’ Mary said as she took the dishes
from the 16-year-old. It was hard to believe that she and her sister, though so
young, were once involved in drug and gang related activities. The alien
attacks left them paralysed with fear, and they quickly repented and asked
their God for forgiveness.
It was a good thing
, Mary thought,
that
they weren’t victims in the attacks
. She silently thanked Adonai that He
gave them another chance to turn their lives around.

‘Let’s get this in—’

Mary dropped the dishes, and they crashed onto the
floor, splintering into hundreds of sharp objects, each shattering in its own
direction.

Nasreen jumped back with a shriek, holding her hand to
her mouth, and Malcolm came running into the kitchen. ‘What happened?’ he
asked, and then he froze.

Mary didn’t say anything. She just pointed to the
basin.

Malcolm slowly stepped forward, making sure that he
didn’t step on any of the broken shards. A thick red liquid was pouring from
the taps. It looked like red milk, thickening occasionally, causing the liquid
to glob and spatter. Malcolm reached out and touched the liquid. He rubbed it
gently between his thumb and forefinger. It felt oily. The tiny hairs at the
back of his neck rose when he realized what it was. It was blood, and there was
a
lot
of it.

 

 

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What the Hell is going on?

Malcolm yelled into his cell phone as he twisted the heads of the bathtub taps.
The red liquid spurted out of the openings, confirming Malcolm’s suspicions. He
ran to the toilet and lifted the lid. The water that used to be in there was
now a thick brew of blood. He found the same liquid in a vase that used to
contain water.
Everything
that was water—or should be—had changed to
blood, even the water in the fridge and the ice cubes in the freezer.

‘So this is happening at your place too?’ he stopped
and listened intently to the speaker on the other end of the line. ‘It’s those
two...parasites! I tell you!’

He closed the door to ensure that no one heard the rest
of the conversation.

‘Yes, they should be taken care of once and for all.’

Malcolm’s facial expression grew grim. ‘Benny the
Fist?’ he confirmed. ‘Personally? Does he know what happened to the people that
tried to harm them before?’

The person on the other end confirmed.

‘All right, do whatever it takes; just take care of it,
now!

Malcolm slammed the cell phone down hard on the table
and stared vacantly at the window for a moment.
Benny the Fist
, he
thought.
When he personally goes out for a hit, it must be serious.

His thoughts were distracted by the distant rumble of
thunder. Rain was coming.

 

 

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‘Yes?’

Pause.

‘How much?’

Pause.

‘Double that and we have a deal.’

Pause.

‘When do you want it done?’

Pause.

‘I understand.’

Benny replaced the handset and used the remote control
of his stereo to turn up the volume of the opera music flowing from the
speakers to its maximum capacity. He listened to the music in the dark, the
only source of light being the occasional flash of lightning. He waved his
remote through the air as if he was the conductor of this orchestra. The music
reached its pinnacle, and ended with the loud explosion of cymbals clashing
together in perfect sync with the clap of thunder outside. Benny slumped back
into his chair, breathing heavily. Mentally, he was ready for the task that lay
ahead. He had heard about these two men that were ruffling some feathers in the
Holy City, and what they had allegedly done to an elite military unit. He wanted
to prepare ahead for this project. He didn’t like to take any unnecessary
risks, and wasn’t planning on starting now.

 

 

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Benny locked the front door to his
house. He switched off all the lights when he left at night, except for the
porch light. The rain was pounding the Earth hard, and he was going to get
soaked no matter how fast he ran. He considered his options: take the heavy
suitcase that contained his equipment and make a dash for the car, or get the
car first, bring it in as close as possible, and then hop out and get the case.

He decided to go for the second option.

The rain had an ominous essence about it, but Benny
couldn’t put his finger on exactly what about it made him feel uneasy.
Something about it just didn’t feel right. He removed his glove and stuck out
his hand. The rain was surprisingly warm against his skin, but it was only when
he pulled his hand back from the drizzle that he
knew
that something was
amiss.

His hand was a different colour; almost black in the
weak light. He rubbed his fingers together and noticed that his hand had been
covered by a strange, oily substance. He raised his fingers to his nose and
gently sniffed. The smell was rotten, like a decomposing carcass, and he
instantly realized what the liquid was that most of his arm had been covered
in.

He looked around the porch to where he could see some
of the rain spatter in the dim light, and sure enough, there were traces of
blood everywhere. He looked at his car and hesitated. He had never abandoned a
call before, and had no intention of doing so now. He flipped open his cell
phone and selected an entry from his contacts.

‘It’s me,’ he said when the contact at the other end
picked up. ‘Have you seen it?’

The other party confirmed.

‘I’m going to try and do it tonight; if not, you’ll
hear from me first thing tomorrow morning. Either way, I want
triple
the
price we agreed upon. Is that understood?’

There was some hesitation from the other end, and then
confirmation.

Benny snapped his phone shut and sealed it inside his
jacket pocket. He looked at the spatter one more time, and then dashed for his
car. It didn’t feel like he was running in rain, more like lukewarm soup. He
was about halfway to his car when his foot slipped on a wet patch of grass and he
slammed down, face first into the blood-drenched Earth. Benny cursed and
smashed his fist down on the ground. He got up, but as he was about to take the
next step, he went down again. Benny screamed. He stood up again, and this time
made sure that he got his footing right before moving forward. ‘If you two are
responsible for this,’ he shouted, ‘I’ll kill you in the worst possible way!’

He was answered with a flash of lightning and the
instant rumble of thunder.

‘Oh,’ he growled through clenched teeth, ‘you’re going
to pay indeed.’

 

 

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The inside of his car was a welcome
shelter from the rain. He didn’t worry about the leather interior being ruined
anymore. The payoff would ensure him a new car of the same superb quality. What
did annoy him was the slippery nature of his keys. It slipped as he was about
to stick it into the ignition, and he let out a loud curse again. They had
better pay him for this mess, or he would eliminate them all.

He finally started the car and slowly turned it toward
his porch. He wanted to use the windshield wipers, but realized that it
wouldn’t be such a great idea, especially with the oily nature of the blood.

When he almost reached the porch, the car sputtered and
jerked, then died with a hiss. He tried the ignition again, but the only
response he received was an effortless whine. He popped the hood and swore
again as he got out into the downpour. Benny lifted the bonnet, and although
there was very little that he could see, he generally knew where to locate certain
features of the engine. He opened the water tank and confirmed his suspicions.
Blood.

Benny screamed again and then scrambled back to the
porch where he slammed his fist against his front door.
How is this
possible?
He unlocked the door and entered the dark house, fumbling in the
dark for the light switch. When he found it, he started up the stairs toward
the main bathroom. His shoes made a sickening ripping sound as it tore from the
carpet with each step that he made, and he kicked them off as he removed his
clothing. The blood dried quickly and almost instantly changed from oily to
sticky. He needed a shower, badly.

‘You’ll both pay,’ he growled again as he turned the
shower taps. A gurgling sound made him step back instinctively, and then a
sense of fear and disbelief gripped him as the red liquid spurted from the
shower head. He turned off the shower and tried the bathtub, but again, water
wasn’t the content that left the taps. ‘
Why?
’ he screamed and smashed
the medicine cabinet with his fist. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

He desperately searched the house for any traces of
water, but when he found none, he finally admitted defeat and fell down to the
floor in a foetal position, crying like a little boy who was being harshly
beaten by an abusive father.

 

 

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A continent away, both Trevor and
René were glued in front of the television with their Macaroni and Cheese
dinners. They were expectantly waiting for the documentary about the ‘Shield of
Victor,’ and both were equally curious to find out exactly what it was.
Finally, a voice boomed over the speakers:

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