They journeyed on.
It was inevitable that they passed through deserted towns with still intact churches. Sam tried to avoid them when he could but often circumstances dictated otherwise. Grace was often too weak to find other more suitable places to rest.
After a while, Sam tried to look on these churches as opportunities as well as potential threats. Some — water permitting — he tried to purify and destroy. On other occasions, he used them to test his summoning abilities, calling Yeth to him while Grace slept. His Hellhound never failed to appear. As long as the twenty four hour restriction period was not breached, Yeth was free to answer his summons.
Sam found himself waiting more and more impatiently every time he called to the Hellhound, eager to be reunited, starting to resent the times they spent apart. He was beginning to view Yeth not only as a tool to be used in his battle against the demons, but as a friend and companion. He thought he detected contented happiness radiating from the great beast as well. Over the course of several weeks, their bond continued to grow. Sam found himself consciously seeking out churches deliberately in order to summon his friend, and he stopped destroying them altogether.
Often, they would train together in the light of the blood red moon, learning each other’s strategies, anticipating each other’s moves. They began to work as a unit. When attacked by other demons, Sam would wait for Yeth to breathe on them before he commenced his own attack. He learnt that Yeth’s eyes were vulnerable to attack and took pains to defend this sensitive area.
Yeth certainly evened the odds — even against Astaroth and Horned demons. Sam would often let the Hellhound battle these larger demons while he kept the Lemure and their taloned hands away from his friend.
One night, standing before a church, awaiting Yeth’s arrival, Sam realized something amazing. He was happy — well, at least as happy as he’d been since the Rapture. He no longer felt so isolated, so alone. Yeth filled the bitter void that had been a part of him since Aimi and Hikari had gone up in the Rapture.
When his Hellhound appeared that night, Sam had embraced the creature, saying nothing. Yeth had let him do it, too, knowing instinctively that this was what Sam needed. This had raised some questions in Sam’s mind. Were all demons like this? Did they all have to be evil or with the right influence, could they be a power for good? For the first time, Sam felt the slightest of doubts about his campaign to rid the world of all demons. If Yeth could be like this, couldn’t others? Perhaps all they needed was a chance. Yeth was unusual though, having had guidance and friendship from Sam since his ‘birth’.
Grace still spoke very little, and their relationship felt strained. One night, sheltered under the lee of a cliff face, tending a small, pathetic fire, he allowed his frustration to boil over. He’d finally got Grace back, taken extraordinary risks to rescue her from Hell — all he asked for was perhaps a little gratitude. It was more than that though. He wasn’t the best conversationalist. He knew that — had always known that. Aimi had sometimes berated him for not being terribly verbose but he had been alone for so long. Even though he was more than happy with silence usually, now that he had Grace, all he wanted was a little companionship, a little conversation. While so many things had changed, a simple thing like genuine human interaction and consideration was enough to remind him of the reasons why he fought and struggled.
“Is my company really that bad?” he said eventually, watching Grace stare into the fire without blinking for long minutes.
“What?” she said, appearing to raise herself from some intense memory. She looked up.
“Why won’t you talk to me? What’s wrong?”
She looked at him for a long moment before answering. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, whispering the words. At first Sam thought she hadn’t understood the question. “What do you think is wrong? Have you got any idea what I’ve been through?”
“Some,” said Sam, feeling a little defensive. He had, after all, been to Hell a couple of times. He knew what it was like.
She smiled without humor and shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. Why did you leave me for so long, Sam? Why did you leave me there in that dreadful place to suffer?”
“I didn’t…I couldn’t,” he stammered. He took a breath, collecting his thoughts. “I didn’t want to leave you there but I had no choice. Even if I’d gone back, how could I have found you?”
“Did you even try?” she asked and Sam flinched under the accusation.
He shook his head. “I couldn’t. Do you know how many souls are in Hell? Millions, possibly billions. How was I meant to find you amongst all those other people? Hell is essentially limitless as well. I didn’t even know where to start looking. It was only when I had Yeth that I could.”
“But you could’ve started looking, couldn’t you? That’s what friends do. I was a friend to you. Kept those succubi off your back so you were free to take on the Antichrist. I sacrificed myself for you and in return, you let me burn in Hell.” Her voice was level but tears were started to streak down her face. “Every second I spent there was torture. They never let up. Sometimes they would leave me for what seemed like hours but that was almost worse. I knew they were coming back and that waiting was the worst part. The only thing that kept me going was thinking you would come for me. Rescue me. I clung to that but as the weeks past, I gave up hope. I realized that you weren’t coming, didn’t care about me and eventually I resigned myself to that. When you did show, I thought it was another trick. A part of me still does. I keep expecting some of your demon pals to show up and drag me back down there.”
“I won’t let them, Grace. You’re safe with me.”
“Just like I was before?” she sneered. “Spare me your promises.”
“I’m…sorry,” he managed, knowing that his words, as usual, were inadequate.
She tilted her head. “Are you Sam? Are you really?”
He didn’t know what to say. They lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. Eventually, without a backward glance, Sam stalked out into the night.
They hardly exchanged words after that. Then, one morning, she awoke with a fever. Intuitively, Sam knew that it was bad.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Grace shook her head weakly. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “Nothing good.” She lifted her t-shirt to show him. Dark swollen lumps were clearly visible in her armpits. Not only that, but similar signs were apparent on her neck. Red, inflamed flea bites covered her torso.
Grace watched his face. Sam had never had much of a poker face. Clearly, she could see his concern.
“They’re on my groin, too,” she said. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“You’ll be fine,” he said, trying to conceal the dread he felt in his heart, knowing that she wasn’t going to be fine at all. If Grace didn’t get help, she was going to die.
“I think I know what this is,” she said. “I saw a documentary once where people died with the same symptoms. You see, I know how you get this disease. You get it from fleas — fleas that live on rats. The same rats we’ve been eating.”
Sam waited, completely mute, dreading what she would say next.
“It’s a disease we haven’t really seen since the Middle Ages,” she continued. “They called it the bubonic plague. It’s commonly called the black plague.”
Sam was lost for words. Of course he’d heard of the black plague and knew it was deadly. But didn’t modern medicine eradicate it?
“Is there a cure?” he managed to ask.
Grace smiled, her mouth quivering. “Sure is. An antibiotic will sort it out in no time at all. We’ll just roll up to our local drug store and buy some over the counter.” She tried to laugh but suddenly spluttered and coughed. She covered her mouth with her hand. When she moved it away, it was speckled with blood.
“We’ll find one,” said Sam, trying to sound confident. All he had to do was find a drug store then. Easier said than done.
A day later and she was worse. She complained of chills and started bleeding out of her ears. She suffered from terrible muscle cramps. He did what he could for her but knew she was dying. After all she’d been through, after what he’d been through to save her, it seemed it wouldn’t be enough. He cursed the unfairness of it all.
Another day passed. Her fever worsened. Her lips, nose, fingers and toes started to turn black. Even Sam knew what this was — the onset of gangrene. She didn’t have long. She couldn’t travel any longer and he made her as comfortable as he could on a makeshift mattress in the backroom of a service station. He thought about calling
