Devil's Kiss

The Beast's hate and anger finally overcame its fear, and it moved toward Sam, huge bare feet shuffling through the undergrowth.

Sam clawed the .45 from the holster, jacked back the hammer, and shot the creature twice in the chest, the heavy slugs slamming the creature back, blowing holes the size of quarters. It shook itself, screaming in pain, then charged. Sam leveled the automatic and squeezed the trigger twice, shooting the Beast in the face, the slugs going into its open mouth, clipping off a fang, then traveling up into its tiny brain, blowing out the back of its head. The Beast flipped off its feet and fell backward, slumping against a thick tree trunk. It quivered, its bowels relaxing, then was dead.

Sam's chest was heaving as he got to his feet, standing over the dead Beast. He was almost numb with shock. He had never seen anything like this.

Suddenly, he remembered there were two of them, at least. Surely the other Beast would come to avenge the death of its friend or mate. Sam ejected the half empty clip, put it in a pouch, and pushed in a full clip, jacking in round, leaving the weapon on full cock. He waited.

Some .. . thing was stumbling toward him, through the dark timber, its breathing harsh. Whatever it was, it moved closer.

Sam lifted the .45, steadying the butt with the palm of his left hand, finger on the trigger. Sweat ran into his eyes. His finger tightened, taking up slack on the trigger as the thing moved nearer. Sam almost screamed as the bushes parted and the creature stepped out into the small clearing.

Lucas Monroe.

Sam lowered the .45, easing the hammer down with his thumb. 'Lucas! My Lord, Lucas—what happened to—' His words stuck in his throat as clouds moved past the moon, giving light to the scene on the ground. The Godly, the dead Godless, and the bloody old man.

Lucas's left arm was ripped and blood-stained. His face and bare chest were claw-marked, dark and shiny- black in the moonlight.

'Oh, Sam, Sam—I tried to stop them.' His words were strangely harsh. 'Foolish of me, I know. I'm too old; don't have the strength. Sam, there's too many of them. You young fool! Get away, get out!'

Sam stepped toward the Methodist minister. 'Come on, Lucas. We've got to get you to a doctor.'

'NO!' he backed away from Sam, shaking his bloody head. 'Too late, Sam. It's too late. For me, maybe not for you. Don't touch me.' His words were painful to hear. 'Kill me, Sam. For the love of God—kill me. Use your weapon. That's all I ask.'

Sam took another step toward him. Lucas held up his hand, and Sam heeded the warning. 'Stay away, Sam. I'm warning you, son—don't you understand? You've got to kill me before I—become one of —Them!' he cut his eyes to the dead stinking Beast.

Sam heard movement behind him; a quiet rustling of the leaves. The second Beast was stalking him through the timber. With the pistol hanging by his side, Sam gently eased the hammer back to full cock.

'Tell me about the Beasts, Lucas.'

'Sam, I—don't have much time. It's—working in me right now. Son, I don't have much longer in this form. Please, when the time comes, give me the dignity of dying a whole man—a human being. Give me that much.'

The Beast moved closer to Sam, slipping stealthily behind him. The stench grew stronger. Sam wondered if Lucas knew the Beast was stalking him? If the minister—what was left of him—was stalling? He decided not.

'I've got to know about them, Lucas.'

'Have Wade show you Duhon's journal, Sam. It's among those he got from Father Dubois. That will tell you all you need to know. For the love of God, Sam, you're a merciful man—kill me!'

The Beast behind Sam stopped moving. 'They've bitten you, Lucas. They're rabid? Is that it?'

Lucas shook his head. His face seemed swollen, seeming to change with each second.

The Beast behind Sam took a cautious step, then was silent in the timber. Waiting to pounce.

'No, Sam. Not in the way an ordinary animal is rabid. These are the Beasts mentioned on the tablet.' He moaned, almost a snarl.

Sam had to know more, although he hated to put Lucas through this. 'I don't understand, Lucas—but I'm trying. How did the Beasts get here?'

'Sam, they've always been here. I believe they've been here since God expelled Lucifer from Heaven. I know they've been here since the first Sixth Day.'

'The FIRST Sixth Day!' the words exploded from Sam's mouth.

'Listen to me, Sam. Listen to me very carefully. I've only time to say this once, then for the love of God, you've got to kill me—for your own safety.

'I can't really explain them; I don't believe any mortal can. They are part human; part animal— all evil. I heard you calling out for me; it enraged them. They have to be killed. Wiped from the face of this earth! Oh, Sam, nobody knows how many times God tried to make man in His own image—or woman. We don't even know what His image is! The Beasts breed, with anything, Sam—anything! keeping their species alive. Sometimes, Duhon found out, as did Dubois, they capture humans and breed with them. But they can sleep for years, Sam, with only a chosen Sentry awake on guard. They can do that because they answer to Satan. I don't have to explain that to you!

'They're God's failures, son. The devil took them, made them his own. Don't ask me how—I can't answer that. I'm just a man. Or was.' He snarled, the sound coming from his mouth chilling Sam.

'I don't have much time, son. Sam, the Bible doesn't make reference to God's mistakes— naturally. Who was around to record them? Confirm them?' Lucas began to slobber, his jaws growing thicker, the saliva, a stinking drool, began dripping from his mouth and thickening lips. The transformation of this gentle man was horrible to witness.

'They're cunning, Sam. They survived the Flood and everything else God did in His attempt to destroy the evil on this earth. He failed there, too. I don't know why, or how, but He did. You know God rules the Heavens and Satan rules the Earth.' He growled. 'The Beasts belong to Satan—they answer only to him.' Lucas screamed; a roar, the slobber spraying from his lips.

'Only a moment more, Sam, then you have to do it. I'll be brief. No! Don't come any closer.' His voice had deepened, the words slurring, hard to understand. 'Be very careful, for there are many more towns like Whitfield around the nation, around the world. The Beasts can lie dormant for hundreds of years. Yeti? Sasquash? I agree with Michael—yes. Probably, but of a higher intellect than these foul things.' He snarled, his face changing into a horror of man/beast. 'I'm all out of time, Sam. God . . . bless . . . you.'

The Beast behind Sam charged, just as Lucas roared, the once-human moving toward Sam, his mouth open, fanged teeth snapping. Sam shot what was once Lucas. Shot him in the chest, then between the eyes. He spun, dropped to one knee, leveled the .45, and shot the charging Beast coming up behind him, emptying the .45 into the creature. The Beast was slammed backward. It stumbled, fell, and began its death quiver, dying at Sam's feet.

In the midst of all the carnage, the stink, with the knowledge that all he had heard and seen this day and night was true; knowing he had killed his friend, a man of God, and wondering why He had not protected Lucas, Sam's mind could take no more. Automatically, survival taking over, Sam could not remember changing clips in the .45. He looked at Lucas. All trace of the man who was was gone. The minister was a Beast. A small silver cross lay on the matted hair of its chest.

Sam sank to his knees and wept.

He wept until his chest ached from exhaustion. The clouds that had kept the night dark blew away, and the moon shone with all its brilliance. When Sam opened his eyes, red-rimmed, and wiped them free of the last tear, he looked at the shining image of the cross on the ground, just to his left. The moon, hitting the branches of a tall tree, formed a cross on the cool earth of the forest. A shining silver-white rood on God's earth.

Sam did not see the Beasts watching him from the cover of the timber. Wanting to attack, but fearful of the light of the moon and the power of the cross their Master hated, and had warned them of.

Sam rose to his feet, the .45 in his hand. He put the big automatic in leather, then drew his knife. Careful not to let any blood from the Beasts touch his skin, Sam hacked the heads from the Beasts with his Bowie. Using his shirt, he fashioned a crude bag for the dripping heads. He left Lucas—or what was once Lucas—lying on the ground.

Looking at what was left of Lucas, Sam said, 'God, this was a good man. A true and loyal servant of Yours. He deserved much better than this. Take him—take him home.'