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.
He spent the rest of the night wandering the streets aimlessly, unwilling to go home to an empty house just yet. Here and there, he saw someone who had not been taken by the Rapture. They looked confused and lost and all but ignored him. He did the same, too wrapped up in his own misery to consider the needs of others.
The clouds were still rolling angrily above him, a solid unbroken mass. Ash fell relentlessly as did the occasional larger burning fragment. Dawn came and went, with not one opportunity for the sun to break through. Everything about him was grey, as if the Tribulation had sucked all colour out of the world.
He was walking along one of the streets around midday when a dishevelled woman ran towards him. She seemed oblivious to the swords that jutted from Sam’s hip and shoulder.
“Have you seen them?” she asked, her eyes wide and constantly moving.
“Seen who?” asked Sam calmly.
“My husband and my children.” She grabbed him by the arm and looked him in the eye. Something in his eyes
— possibly the blackness — seemed to unsettle her and she
quickly took her hands off him as if she’d been stung.
“What are you?”
“Someone like yourself,” he replied. “Lost and alone.”
Madness seemed to reassert itself suddenly. “Have you seen them?” she asked again.
He shook his head sadly. “No. Sorry, ma’am.”
“They were right here with me,” she sobbed. “My little boy was in my arms but I couldn’t stop him. He just went and there was nothing I could do. Please tell me how to get them back.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sam. “I don’t know how.”
She screamed and suddenly launched herself at him. He grabbed her arms as she flailed about helplessly. Eventually, she became exhausted and stopped struggling, and Sam released her hands. She looked at him strangely for a moment and then wandered off down the street. Sam saw her approach one of the other few people on the street and begin questioning them.
Saddened beyond measure, he turned away.
In the afternoon, he began investigating the shops along Main Street. He’d never been into many of them before despite the fact that they were not far from his own house. Under different circumstances, he would have looked forward to it.
The camping and outdoor supply stores that catered to the needs of tourists were his obvious targets. One had already burnt down. Another one nearby had been severely damaged by the earthquake, making it a highly risky proposition. It looked like it was about to fall down any second. The third one he checked out was reasonably intact. Inside was a different story. Much of the equipment had fallen off the shelves, creating a jumbled pile of assorted goods on the floor.
He tensed when he heard the tell-tale scrape of a boot against the floor. Two men emerged from behind a shelf. One carried a baseball bat, the other a high-calibre hunting rifle.
“What do you want here?” asked the larger of the two.
“I just need some supplies,” said Sam.
“Well, you can’t have them,” said the bigger man. “They’re ours.”
Sam nodded. “You own the store then?”
The men turned and grinned at each other. The big man looked back at Sam, still grinning. “Nope, but with the recent developments around here, I’d say that whoever had the biggest gun got the biggest share of everything.” He tapped his rifle meaningfully.
“I don’t need much,” said Sam reasonably. “Just a few tins of food. Maybe a gas cooker and a pack.”
“You don’t listen very well, do you, young fella?” growled the big man. “I said all this stuff belongs to us. Go and find your own store.”
Trying desperately to control his temper, Sam said in a low voice, “This is the last camping store standing.”
“Well, that’s just bad luck for you. Get,” he said, lowering his rifle and pointing it in Sam’s direction.
“Look,” he said, “I can see a cooker right here.”
He bent down, reaching for the portable gas device. There was a great roar in his ears and then it felt like a giant had punched him. Suddenly he was sprawled on his back, lying amongst the jumble of camping supplies. His chest hurt.
“Now, why did you have to go and do that for, Jed,” Sam heard the other man say through the ringing in his ears. “You didn’t have to kill him.”
“Yes, I did,” Jed replied vehemently. “He was trying to take our stuff.”
Sam touched the point on his chest where it hurt, feeling the hole in his hoodie where the bullet had passed through. He lifted his fingers up to his eyes, expecting blood, but his fingers were clean. There was no wound, just a dull ache where the bullet had bounced off.
Though he was surprised, Sam realized he should have expected this. Hikari and he had conducted various experiments using non-iron weapons. Sure, he could be hit by them and even bruised, but he couldn’t be cut or pierced. Knives, axes and other blades simply bounced off him. If it wasn’t iron, it couldn’t kill him. They’d never tried it with a high-powered rifle though, Hikari being too nervous to risk the chance that he might be wrong. Sam hadn’t been that keen to test the theory either. He was glad he hadn’t; that rifle had the kick of a mule. It wasn’t something that he was keen to experience again in a hurry. Lately, everyone seemed to be having a turn at kicking him around.
For the second time in a few hours, he groaned and sat up.
The expressions on the faces of the two men were comical. Sam had never seen two men more surprised in his entire life. Sam could understand their confusion. By rights, a rifle of the calibre held in the hands of the bigger man should’ve punched a hole clean through him and probably through the wall of the shop as well. Especially at close range. Any other man — even one wearing a bullet proof vest — would be dead.
“But … but,” stammered Jed, “You were dead.”
Both men could clearly see that all Sam was wearing was a light hooded sweatshirt. Pale skin gleamed
