2
As Erik drove back towards the church, he heard the sound of explosions in the distance, coming from the direction of the town. Apparently, the thing was on the loose again. He needed to get back to Todd and Vickie. Though he didn’t really know what he could do to save them if the thing showed up at the church.
Vickie and Todd were anxiously waiting for him.
“Where’s Mark” Vickie asked.
“He’s with Dovecrest. He’s ok. They’re both ok.”
“What a relief. It’s destroyed the library,” Vickie said, softly, so Todd couldn’t hear. “It’s all over the news.”
“How are they explaining it?”
“It depends. Some stations are still using the terrorist thing. Others are claiming a gas leak.”
“Daddy, are we gonna be ok?” Todd said. “Is that thing in the woods gonna get us?”
“We’re gonna be ok,” Erik said. “Dovecrest is going to help us.”
“We’ve gotta kill the rock,” Todd said.
“Yeah. We’ll do that.”
Todd nodded. “I’m gonna go back and check out the computer again.”
Erik watched him go, then turned to his wife.
“Erik, I’m scared,” he said.
“Yeah. I know.”
“I started having contractions today.”
“Is it…near time?”
“I don’t know. They’re not regular.”
“I need to get you and Todd to the city.”
“No,” she said. “I think it’s too risky. We’d have to go through town. I think we’re safer here.”
He nodded. She was right, at least for now. If the thing was, indeed, at the library, he’d have to go right past it to reach the main road. For now, they would be better to stay put.
3
Johnny Dovecrest lit a small lantern and led the Pastor into the cave. He knew the demon was nearby. He could feel it, could sense the presence. It was stronger than ever, and not the least bit shy about being seen. It was funny, he thought. In the old times it needed to stay hidden because people believed. No one believed in demons nowadays, even if they saw one with their own eyes.
He slid a rock out of the way and took a metal box from a recess in the stones.
“These are the ancient manuscripts of my people,” Dovecrest said. “They were written before the white man came to this land, and have been handed down through the generations.”
“Are they in manuscript form?” Mark asked.
“They have only been written down in the last 200 years. In the past my people believed in evil spirits. Today it is not so fashionable.”
“That’s something our cultures have in common.”
“Let’s bring this back to the church,” Dovecrest said. “Then we can try to make a plan.”
“The Bible says that Jesus cast out demons. And we can cast them out in his name.”
Dovecrest nodded and led him out of the cave. “That might drive out a demon. But it won’t kill it. Only the Great Spirit can do that. Besides, this is not just an ordinary demon. It is a creature of very great evil. A resident of hell.”
“Won’t driving it out send it back?”
“Sending it back is one thing. Keeping it back is another.”
As they approached Dovecrest’s cabin they heard an explosion. A fireball erupted from ahead, and flames erupted from the windows.
“Hide!” Dovecrest said.
They dove behind a boulder and watched as the demon emerged from what had been the back door of the cabin. It carried a man’s body in its left hand, holding him upright by the hair of his head. Dovecrest couldn’t recognize the poor wretch through the flames, but it was obvious that the man was in agony, literally burning up from the inside. The demon turned its victim and held him up to his face. Then, it spoke, in a raging, steaming voice that was almost human, but definitely not from this world.
“My name is Wrath!” it said. “Look at me and feel my flames. Feel the fury of hell!”
The man screamed and his head literally exploded in the demon’s hand, blowing apart like a firework in a blaze of red, yellow, and orange. Splinters of burned flesh, bone, and brain fell like shrapnel, and the now headless body fell to the ground. The demon stood holding a handful of hair and laughing.
The growth on its neck-what was left of the cult leader-was not laughing. His clouded eyes were contorted in pain as he endured his torture. Once again, Dovecrest locked eyes with the being that had once been human, and once again he saw the man begging, pleading to be set free. The man seemed to see hope in Dovecrest, and the Indian realized how important his task was-not just for lives but for souls.
The demon-Wrath, it had called itself-seemed to sense that something was happening with it’s deformed twin, and stopped laughing. It stood tall and looked out into the woods. Dovecrest and Mark remained still as the demon seemed to search into the trees, looking for a sign of life. Dovecrest could feel his heart beating hard within his chest. He was sure the demon could hear it if it tried. He counted the seconds. The monster was silent. Only the sound of cracking flames from his cabin broke the silence.
He looked at Mark and saw the internal battle going on within the pastor. He knew that Mark wanted to confront the thing with his God and, with a word, banish it back to where it had come from. He shook his head back and forth, very slowly, and mouthed the words “no, not yet. Not now.”
He could almost see the gears turning in the pastor’s mind. He felt the man’s faith, but he also knew that the time wasn’t right. It would be suicide.
He shook his head again. Mark looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded, bowed his head and his lips began to move in silent prayer.
Still, the demon did not stir. If the thing came any closer, or discovered them, the decision would be made for them. Dovecrest held his breath and waited, expecting to die at any moment.
Then, without any apparent reason, the demon made a deep, throaty noise and turned away. Dovecrest peeked around the boulder and saw it walking away. Its flames seemed to be cooling, from cherry red to orange, to yellow. The thing on its shoulder appeared to be just a ball of flesh from the back. It flopped up and down on the monster’s shoulders as if it were sleeping or dead.
Dovecrest tapped Mark on the shoulder and motioned for him to wait as the demon turned right and down Farmington Road. He motioned Mark to follow him as he kept the boulder between them and the monster, hoping against hope that it didn’t stop and look back.
“He answered my prayer,” Mark said. “And he would have defended me.”
Dovecrest didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Perhaps,” he said finally. “But it’s heading towards the church. Does your cell phone work?”
Mark nodded.
“Then call them and warn them. Tell Erik to meet us back at his house.”
“We should have fought.”
“Doesn’t your Bible teach that there is a time for everything?”
“Yes.”
“Then now is the time for us to join forces and gather strength. The white man and the Indian. The old and the new. We must join our spirits as one. Only then can the fight begin.”
