Men and Their Demons

7/29/2019 Men and Their Demons

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Men and Their Demons

By

Alan Brooks

Illustrated by

Michael Mullally

Published and Printed by Alan Brooks

Copyright 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors

imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or

dead, is entirely coincidental.


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Dr. Martin sat there looking at me, waiting for me to talk. I'vetold this story a hundred times but it never gets any easier. It's anunusual story to be sure. I wouldn't have believed it if it hadn'tactually happened to me. Even still, the nagging thought that it all

might have been a dream almost drove me insane. But I know that it'strue. I've read the stories in the newspaper about what happened inChicago. They're all wrong about the details, but it's proof that I wasthere.

I sighed. Dr. Martin wasn't going to believe me either but whatelse did I have to do. I might as well tell it again.

Alright, I said, shifting forward to the edge of the sofa as Iprepared to tell my tale. It started three months ago in Georgia. Tomand I were at the office like usual when a new client came in with anunusual request.

***

Listen Mr. Miller, thats not exactly what we do here. I said.We investigate cheating spouses, insurance frauds, and corporate

espionage, things like that. Dealing with militant groups or drugsmugglers or whatever this is, thats a job for the police or the FBI.

I understand that but I told you I already went to the police.They refused to investigate it.

So do it yourself. Youre an investigative reporter. Thats whatyou do right?

I cant. No one can get near that compound. If I try to just walk

in there flashing my Chronicle ID. Im liable to get shot. But youyou were in the Marines, you hunt, you can get in close without beingseen.

And you think if they find me creeping around in the woodstheyre not going to shoot me?

I think $10,000 for a day's work makes it worth the risk.


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I looked at Tom. He shrugged noncommittally. The satellite image ofa small cluster of low buildings in a remote piece of woods filled thecomputer screen in front of him.

I tell you what Mr. Miller. Well go take a look. General

hunting season starts in two weeks. That will give us an excuse to getclose to the compound without looking too suspicious.

And an excuse to go heeled. Muttered Tom under his breath.But I wont promise anything. Im not picking a fight with

some nutty militia group. If Tom and I go there and dont like it weregetting out.

I understand. I couldnt ask for any more. Mr. Miller pulledout his checkbook. Is half now and half after ok?

Hang on to it for now. We may not get anything at all.All right. Thank you.Ill give you a call and let you know what happens.

The bell on the front door jingled as Mr. Miller left. I looked backover at Tom. He sat there, hands clasped behind his head grinning atme.

What? I asked.

Nothing. Nothing I just knew you couldnt say no.Well, thats nice hunting land down by the river there. We

probably wont be able to get anywhere near that place and even ifwe did, what are we going to find out just from looking at thecompound? At least maybe well see some deer and the trip wont bea total loss.

Well, going during the season is a good idea. We can camo up,

take rifles, and pretend to be lost poachers. If anything, a militiagroup finding us like that may be more likely to ask us to join thanshoot us.

We dont even know that this is a militia. Its an awfully smallclearing and really remote. Theres not even a road near it. Im goingwith drugs. This is a meth lab or coke refinery or something; in whichcase theyll just bury us in the woods and move.


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Well, smirked Tom. only one way to find out.

***

We paused in a small clearing, both sweating profusely underour camouflage. I pulled out my compass and checked the azimuth.Still on track. Another quarter mile and we'll be there. Tom took aswig from a canteen and shifted the sling of his rifle up further ontohis shoulder. I motioned for us to continue and he nodded, recappinghis canteen. I wiped the beads of sweat off of my forehead with asleeve and we started off again. It was unseasonably hot for early

November. There's usually a nice chill in the breeze by this time ofyear in southern Georgia, but today it seemed to be getting hotter andhotter as we went even as the sun was moving well west of noon.

We had spent the morning in our usual hunting routines.Showering in scent-killing soap, dressing in carefully scent andbrightener free camouflage clothes and cleaning and functionchecking our guns. Tom opted to take his M14, the last of the truebattle rifles. I selected a more common M4 carbine and a Sig P220pistol in a belt holster. Tom insisted on bringing the enormousRambo-style survival knife that he was so proud of. After a two hourdrive and another half hour looking for parking we finally headed outinto the woods, rifles slung, with our map and compass.

I held up a fist and Tom and I both stopped. Another signal andwe both crouched slowly. Tom hand-signaled that he was going tomove off to my right and that we should move forward slowly. We

separated and moved slowly towards the tree-line. I swung my riflearound off my shoulder, slid my pistol holster around to my back, anddropped down to crawl the last 20 yards or so. The thick blanket ofdead leaves on the ground crinkled underneath me as I edged forwarduntil I had a good view of the compound. Two big unharvestedcornfields set in the middle of a ring of buildings, the corn rotting on


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its dried stalks. A long low concrete structure on the right, a largeshed on the left and the roof of a house over the tops of thecornstalks. I caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of my eyeand knew that Tom was in place too.

This is always the boring part. Hours of walking culminating inhours of laying there watching the wind blow. I hadn't been there tenminutes when I heard voices. I stiffened and waited. A few figuresappeared to my left as they rounded the corner of the corn field. Theywere dressed in a patchwork of various camouflage uniforms andNASCAR hats. There were four of them. Each carried a gold-platedAK-47 on a sling, one sucked on a cigarette, and another spit tobaccojuice with every step. They stopped twenty yards away from me andone produced a silver flask from a cargo pocket and took a long swig.He passed it to one of the others who took a drink and then handed itback, wiping his mouth with a hairy forearm.

They moved on walking past me and Tom and back around theother end of the cornfields. Silence once again. I watched the windnow send a ripple across the corn, dusty with decay, and could hearthe papery scratching of the leaves and then, over the sound of the

wind, the unmistakable metallic clacking of rifle bolts being cycled. Icould almost feel my kidneys contract as they dumped their supply ofadrenaline directly into my blood stream. My pupils dilated and Icould suddenly feel my heartbeat in my ears.

I caught a glimpse of a flash through the stalks and a branch onthe bush I was hiding under shattered, pelting me with splinters anddust. I tucked my face into my arm as I sneezed uncontrollably.

Somewhere in the muffled distance I heard Tom's M14 open up witha rapid burst. Figures were visible now in the corn and I becameaware of bullets hitting the brush over and around me. I racked thecharging handle on my rifle and flipped the safety off. I started liningup the shapes and squeezing the trigger. Again and again and again Ifired until my magazine ran dry.

We had to get out of there. I rolled over and up, yelling for Tom,


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dropping the empty mag, and slapping a new one in as I zigzaggedaway in a hunched-over run. My retreat was cut short by a dozen ofthe strangely uniformed men, all armed with the flashy gold-platedAK-47s. I tucked and rolled, landing hard on the roots of a tree as the

automatic weapons tilled the dirt behind where I had just been. Irolled up and ran again, moved laterally towards where Tom shouldbe, firing quickly as I went. A root caught the edge of my boot and Isaw Tom as I fell. He was sitting with his back was up against a treeand his rifle was pointed right at me. I hit the ground hard andflattened out, ending up on my back just in time to see Tom fire aburst over my head.

I looked behind me and saw one of the armed men fall face firstinto a shrub. I tried to thank Tom, and realized that the fall hadknocked the breath out of me. Tom quickly stood and hoisted me upby the collar.

Let's go. He turned to head back the way we had come.I nodded and started to follow as I finally figured out how to

breathe again and ran right into the back of him as he stoppedsuddenly. He dove backwards shoving me to the ground and he

landed on top of me taking my air away once more. I was aware thata grenade went off somewhere and then Tom was back up, pulling mealong with him until I managed to find my breath and legs again.

We were running in the only direction we could, back towardsthe compound. The trees around us were being punched to pieces bygunfire from behind. We broke the tree-line at a dead sprint andveered along the cornfields towards the ramshackle tool shed. I fired

an unaimed burst to my right at another group of guards and saw onefall. Tom fired wildly off to our left at something I couldn't see; thenwe hit the aluminum doors of the shed with our shoulders and thethin hasp holding the padlock ripped free and we fell through. I couldbarely hear Tom shout something over the gunfire as we landedinside the shed.

I scrambled for cover in the dark feeling my way over a shovel


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and a small push lawnmower as I wedged myself into the corner andwaited for the inevitable hail of bullets. Then... silence.

***

I listened hard. There was something outside, but my ears werestill ringing from the gunfire and the grenade. I strained to make itout. It sounded like children. Faint splashing and distant high-pitchedshouting. It sounded like a swimming pool.

You ok? I jumped at Tom's whispered question. I hadn'trealized how quiet it was in the shed until just then.

Uh, I did a quick mental check for pain. I think so.I heard Tom reloading and I took advantage of the momentarylull to do the same with my last magazine. My ears were ringing andI couldn't see a thing.

Tom?Yeah.Can you see?Not a thing.

I put a hand on the wall behind me as I tentatively tried to stand.My hand found plastic. I thought this shed was aluminum? I stoodslowly, keeping my rifle ready. I stepped forward and the barrel ofmy M4 hit a wall. I reached out and felt. More plastic. I heard Tomstand up and he pushed against the other wall. A sliver of light brokethrough. Tom pushed harder and the light widened. I could see thedoor now and the chain on the outside fastening it shut.

The light dimmed as Tom's head moved in the way and hepeered out.

Holy shit! He said quietly.What?Uh, come look for yourself.I moved to the crack and put my eye up to it. I pulled back


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suddenly and then looked again. A well manicured green lawn edgedby a wooden privacy fence led up to a small brick house. A neatly-kept rock garden filled a corner of the yard and a white cast metalpatio chair and table rested under the large oak tree in the center. I

looked at where Tom was in the dark even though I couldn't see him.Let's find a way out. I said.Way ahead of you, came Tom's voice from low on the other

side of the shed. I heard a thunk and then a sawing sound and acurve of light began to silhouette Tom as he cut a hole in the wallwith his knife. A furious minute of sawing later and there was a holebig enough to crawl through. We did and stood up again once we gotout. I blinked at the sun shining in my eyes over the trees.

Tom slung his rifle and we looked around. The roofs of otherhouses were visible over the fence and a bird chirped somewherenearby. I shivered in the cool breeze and realized how sweaty I was.We walked in silence to the fence and stood on tiptoe to peer over.Suburbia was spread out before us in all its bucolic splendor. Anabove ground pool, a kid's dirt bike leaned up against the back of onehouse, and a trampoline draped in a safety net with foam-padded

poles behind another.Tom and I looked at each other with expressions of disbelief.

Where were we and how did we get here? A clatter from the shedbrought us out of our thoughts and back to reality.

There they are! Someone shouted from inside the shed and aburst of gunfire ripped through the plastic wall. I was prone, firingsteadily into the shed and Tom was on a knee next to me doing the

same. We both ran dry and I immediately dropped my rifle and pulledmy pistol.The bird had stopped chirping and the world was silent. I looked

at Tom. He tossed down his rifle and looked back at me.We've got to get out of here. I said. Right now there's an

army of cops swarming this way and I don't want to try to explainthis.


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I re-holstered my pistol and pulled my blouse down over it. Tomand I hopped the fence and started moving. We crossed the street andwent through two more yards and came out on a golf course. I couldhear the sirens in the distance now wailing louder as they moved

closer. We ran faster.Just past the water hazard at the 16

thhole we came upon a hotel.

We stopped running, wiped the sweat off our faces and calmlywalked in. The gift shop was next to the front desk and we greetedthe desk clerk warmly. He looked suspicious, but smiled and returnedthe greeting. An I heart Chicago t-shirt for me and a Windy Cityt-shirt for Tom and a pair of shorts and flip-flops each plus a roll of

duct tape and we checked out. A quick trip to the lobby bathroom andwe were as good as tourists, me with my pistol carefully taped to mycrotch I wasn't about to be caught unarmed by any more of thosegoons. Chicago of all places? How did we end up here?

I used the front desk phone to call a cab from the list of numbersdisplayed on a stand next to it and asked for a ride to O'Hare whichhad to be nearby because I had seen a plane taking off when we wererunning across the golf course. We waited out front and Tom smokeda cigarette until the cab arrived. The driver (Ibrahim, if his cabbielicense was to be believed) asked us in broken English where ourluggage was and seemed confused when we didn't have any.

We drove for some time and Tom and I talked quietly huncheddown in the backseat.

It's got to be some secret government research project. SaidTom.

Teleportation? I asked, with a raised eyebrow.How else do you explain it?I thought. I don't know. What we need to do now though is get

the hell home. I said.You get out here. Said Ibrahim, our cab-driver, over his

shoulder.


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We looked up and saw the flashing lights of a dozen police carssurrounding the house that we had our firefight behind not an hourprior. An officer was walking up to the cab.

No! The Airport! I shouted at the cabby.

You get out here, he repeated.Dammit, Tom swore.Yes, said Ibrahim calmly and staring straight ahead, Damn it

to hell.An explosion rocked the street and the officer in front of the car

hit the ground. A brick from the house hit the windshield and Iblinked. When I looked through the spider-webbed cracks of thewindshield again I could see an enormous beast strolling through thecrater of the house. Gunfire rang out as the officers recovered fromthe blast. The creature was walking directly towards us, apparentlyoblivious to the bullets pelting it.

It flipped a patrol car over onto the officer hiding behind it andthen stepped onto and over it on its way to us. Compared to the car itlooked to be ten feet tall. I could see it's face, fractaled through theglass; a maw of teeth like a shark and two rams horns curving from

the sides of its head mounted on a muscle bound body of ruddysinew.

Fourteen fifty you owe me, said Ibrahim, apparently obliviousto the danger.

Tom and I were moving, getting out of the car. I slammed mydoor shut and ripped open the drivers door. Ibrahim rolled his headtowards me and I looked directly into his eyes and saw them

sparkling gold but lifeless. I pulled him out and tossed him away.Tom and I jumped in and I threw the car in reverse. The tiressquealed at the point of incipient spin and I cranked the wheel aroundhard until the car was facing away, then muscled it back in line andhit the gas.


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Tom was hanging on to the dash and door for dear life and Iglanced into the rearview mirror in time to see the creature spread apair of bat-like wings and launch into the air. I pressed harder on thegas then slammed the break before sliding through a turn onto Grand

Avenue and then rocketing onto the freeway that led to the airport.

***

Tom pretended to read the paper and tried to look unconcernedbut I could see the shake in his hands as he held it. His shorts werestill damp from the little trouble we had getting the taxicab into the

retention pond and we hadn't spoken since then. Airport security hadbeen nerve-wracking what with me having a gun taped to my junkand us, presumably, being wanted fugitives. Fortunately the guydoing the pat-down was former Air Force and I commiserated withhim about the good ol' days before he gave me a half-assed search.

Tom and I found seats in a corner near our terminal and talkedquietly.

What the hell was that thing? Tom asked, pretending to read

the New York Times.I'll be honest Tom, it looked like a demon to me.There's no such thing as demons. Tom scoffed. We've been

through some shit together and we've seen the worst that mankind hasto offer, but I've never seen a demon. It's not possible. There has to bea rational explanation.

Tom, I'm with you but I don't know how else to explain it. That

thing was bulletproof and supernaturally strong. How else do wereconcile the fact that, one minute we're in the woods in Georgia andthe next we're in Chicago. That's teleportation, there's no two waysabout it.

Ok. Government teleportation experiment hidden in the woods,we stumble in and here we are.


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Those soldiers weren't feds. Those weren't any uniforms I'veever seen. And who uses gold-plated AKs, seriously?

Ok, so it was a fringe project. Tom flipped to the comics pageof the paper.

There was a demon Tom. As sure as I'm sitting here there wasan honest-to-god demon that blew up that house and killed thosecops. You saw it same as I did.

I know, I just... it can't be.I'm right there with you but when all other possibilities have

been exhausted the answer you're left with is probably the right oneno matter how improbable, and I saw a demon.

Ok, fine. It was a demon. So what do we do?I thought for a minute. We get home. That's the first thing.

Then... I don't know.The TV screen near us caught my eye and Tom followed my

gaze. The picture on the news showed the neighborhood that we hadbeen in earlier that afternoon. The camera focused on a crater wherethe house had been and several destroyed police cars. The closedcaptioning said that the police were not releasing details about the

explosion, but that it might have been a terrorist attack. We watchedfor a minute more and then Tom spoke again.

What if this thing is chasing us because we found it? What ifit's still trying to kill us when we get home? I'm not saving your assagain. Tom put down the pretense of the newspaper with a loudcrunch. A few other passengers glanced up from their laptops as Tomraised his voice.

Listen, I whispered, glancing around and watching themquickly lose interest and go back to their emails and e-books. I'mjust as confused as you are but I don't see how...

Tom picked up his paper again, opened it, and shook it straight.Three times now. That's all I'm saying.

Three?Those two in Iraq, the booby trap in Hit City and that ambush


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in Al Qa'im, and then today at the compound... I'm just saying.Look Tom, this is not my fault.I know, I just...Look, let's just get home and then we can figure this out.

Tom noisily flipped the page of his paper and we lapsed intosilence.

***

Finally we were allowed to board. It's a good thing that there's aChicago to Atlanta flight about every few hours. We got on and sat

down. Me in first class and Tom in coach since those were the onlyseats available and I had won the rock-paper-scissors contest. Thedark tarmac stretched out from my window in a staccato series of redand blue lights.

After the obligatory safety briefing by an overly-cheerfulwoman with Steve Tyler lips on the video screens, the flightattendants settled in and we taxied and took off. Drinks were servedonce we reached cruising altitude and I ordered a stiff whiskey on the

rocks. I sipped at my drink and wondered how Tom was faring. Hehated flying. He said that he was always sure that every flight he tookwould be his last. In seeming answer the plane jerked to one sidethrowing drinks everywhere and a horrible wrenching sound followedby a falsetto scream pierced through the drone of the engines.

I quickly unbuckled my belt and crawled over the corpulentCEO cocooned in a blanket next to me. I raced down the isle, shoving

a flight attendant out of the way, hurtling the beverage cart, andbursting through the curtains that separated the nobility from theunwashed masses. One of the back hatches was gone and I could feelthe air being sucked through the gaping hole in the plane. The demonhad Tom by the throat in its large clawed hand. Its thick tail slammedback and forth in the confined space and the blood of bludgeoned


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passengers spurted and was slung onto the walls and the ceiling of theplane.

The creature roared with an unearthly vibrato that seemed tomatch the shudder of the aircraft as the pilots, no doubt, panicked and

put the plane into a sudden dive. The oxygen masks deployed but noone seemed to notice. They were still frozen in terror from the sightof a demon ripping open the plane and climbing in. Tom wasgrasping at the demon's hand and managed to clear his airwaymomentarily. He let out a horrific war cry right in the demon's faceand struggled to get free. The demon froze.

In one violent movement it swallowed Tom whole, hitting itshead on the ceiling as it sucked him down. I heard myself scream, along bloodthirsty animalistic roar as I ripped the gun from my crotch.I was running towards the creature, firing as I went. The bulletsseemed to just stop on the skin of the hellspawn. Click click click. Mygun was empty. I was on top of the monster, an arm around its neckand my teeth buried where its jugular should be.

The demon screamed and ripped through the ceiling of the planeas it launched itself, and me, out into the sky. We fell, I don't know

how long. I lost my grip at some point, or it finally threw me loose,and I fell.

***

An old man sat staring at me, very still. I stared back. He smiled.A rotten toothless grin underneath his thin, stringy hair. I smiled back,

weakly.Yer awake, he said, still smiling.I think so, I mustered.By God's grace ya are, he said, making the sign of the cross.Uh... yeah. Where am I exactly? The memories of the flight

came flooding back to me but I wasn't sure if they were real or a


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dream.Yer at Morgan's place. That's me, Morgan Exurbia He said,

proudly thrusting a thumb into his bony chest. and this my cabin.I looked around, first at the enormous deer head mounted on the

rough-hewn wood wall above mine, then at the antiquated hand-crafted furniture that filled the room. Morgan was still smiling.

What happened? I asked, still confused. I could feel my legsand arms and, other than being achy all over, I felt fine.

Ya fell from heaven ya did, said Morgan.The plane, I said, thinking out loud, Tom. The demon.Demon? Morgan asked raising a bushy eyebrow.I realized that I sounded crazy even to this yokel. Nothing, I

said, I'm thirsty.There were a plane crashed, Morgan said, Few miles from

here. That where you come from?I guess. Can I get a glass of water please?Morgan ignored my question. What happened on that there

plane?Um... It crashed. I guess I'm lucky to be alive.

What happened 'afore it crashed? He pressed, leaning towardsme in his chair.

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.Try me.I thought for a minute. These hill folk are pretty superstitious, he

might actually believe me. For what that's worth.I sighed. It's a long story.

I told him everything; about the compound in Georgia, about thesoldiers, about ending up in Chicago, the demon, the plane, Tom, andhow I got to his cabin. He listened in rapt attention until I finished.

After a minute of silence with him staring at me and me staringawkwardly back he spoke.

You read the Bible?Uh, yeah. I guess. Some.


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You know what my last name means?No. No I don't. I said getting a little annoyed with him.Exousia. It's Greek. It means power or authority. It's also the

name of a choir of angels. The warrior angels. The Exousia are the

only choir of angels that didn't lose any of their kind to Lucifer whenhe fell.

Ok. I said, not quite sure where this was going.Me and mine's been chosen for thousands of years to be the

callers of the Exousia. You sure 'bout what you saw?Yes, I said, suddenly confident.Then I gots to do it.He stood up and shambled over to the dresser. He picked up a

plastic rifle case that was leaning against the wall next to the dresserand laid it down on top. He flipped the latches and opened it. I foundthe will to move and jumped from the bed (realizing in the processthat I was bare-assed naked). I looked for a weapon of opportunityand my hand found a broom handle. I swung it around and foundmyself facing a man with a horn.

Morgan had lifted a long gray ram's horn from the padded case.

It's called a shofe'r, he explained, Calls the angels of God tobattle.

I watched him incredulously as he put the horn to his lips andblew. A long blast, three broken blasts, a staccato of short bursts, andone long loud final earsplitting blast.

The silence afterwards was almost as painful as the cacophonyof the horn. Then a rumble. I had never been in an earthquake before,

but this is what I imagined it would be like. The walls shook and thenvanished. Morgan and I (naked as I was) were now standing on theside of a hill in the woods. Surrounding us were fourteen figures inlong flowing crimson robes and white-plumes silver helms. Each wasclad in ornately carved silver armor that glinted and glistened withhints of rose from the fiery sunset and armed with matching shieldsand Kris-style swords.


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I stood in awe. Forgetting my nakedness and staring at theseamazing creatures. The largest one, obviously denoted as the leaderwith a blood-red cross on it's breastplate, spoke.

For what purpose have you summoned the Exousia, Morgan

son of Cowel? The angel asked. Morgan was bowing on one knee.This here fella' needs to fight a demon, he said and everyone

looked at me.I was reminded suddenly of how naked I was and tried to act

casual only to discover that hands are awkward things to have whenyou don't have pockets. They were all still staring at me expectantly.

Speak, man, and tell us your need, the angel said.I couldn't speak. I hadn't been to church since I was a young

child. I had written off the Christian stories as mythology many yearsago and yet, just yesterday, I was fighting a demon on an airplane;and today, here I was, talking to an angel face to face. Tom was dead.I hadn't really put it into words yet. I still expected him to show up,laughing next to me and smoking his cigarette telling me what anexcellent joke he had played on me. But I knew it wasn't true.

I had spent the last day reacting to the situations as they

happened and not really thinking about the implications. I knewtactics. I was a crack shot with rifle, pistol, or shotgun. I had years ofexperience in a variety of extraordinary situations and yet nothinghad prepared me for this. I fancied myself a rational man, notbelieving in fairy-tales or superstitions, but here I was talking toangels. What could I do?

I told the angel my story and he listened carefully.

You must banish the demon from the earth back to Hell, hesaid.Isn't that what you're here for? I asked.We will help you, he answered, but you must be the one to

destroy him and send him back.Why me? I asked, I don't know the first thing about fighting

demons.


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You have all the knowledge you need, the angel answeredsimply.

But that's just it. I don't know what I need. Bullets are useless, Ican't hurt it.

You have all the knowledge you need, the angel repeated,You lack only the will.

I don't lack the will. I want to kill it, but I don't know how, Ipleaded with him.

We will help you, the angel replied.I looked at Morgan. He looked up from where he was kneeling

and I finally got a good look at his face. His mullet threw me off atfirst, but now I recognized him.

Mr. Miller?! I exclaimed.He hung his head as the angels all turned to look at him.You're the one who hired me! I exclaimed. You said your

name was Miller and you were an investigative reporter. Who areyou?

Forgive me, Morgan/Miller replied, dropping the hillbillyaccent. but my hands were tied. I am a watcher, and as such I cannot

interfere directly in human events. I could not tell you what awaitedyou at the compound. I wasn't even one-hundred percent sure myself.I had to let you find out for yourself.

You asshole! I yelled. Tom is dead because of you!He seemed to sink lower. I know. He raised his eyes like a

shamed dog. For that I am sorry.Fat lot of help you are, I muttered, Thanks a lot Morgan, or

Miller, or whatever your name is! You've killed my best friend andsummoned the most useless choir of angels ever! I Kicked a rockwith my bare toe and turned to walk away.

We will wait for you, the angel said to my back.I walked off into the woods.


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***

I sat on the end of a rock, protruding out from a sharp cliff faceand overlooking a large lake. Naked, I sat. I could feel the coldness of

the stone on my bare skin. I crossed my arms and sighed. Tom wasdead. How did this happen? Angels. Demons. Heaven. Hell. Bullshit,all of it.

I pinched myself and then looked around to make sure nobodysaw. Not a dream. Banishing demons? How the hell was I supposedto do that? I had been to war. I had seen the enemy. He was human.What was I supposed to do when he wasn't? I missed Tom, and I

wanted to avenge him. I wanted to make that demon bastard pay. Iheld on to the rage for a moment, and then let it go.It was getting dark and I had no shelter or clothes. It would get

cold soon. I decided to lay down there on the cold rock, naked andalone, and sleep. As I curled up in the fetal position to sleep the skyseemed to get brighter. I lifted my head and realized that the light wasin the east. It was morning. I was cold and my muscles were stiff andsore. Probably as much from sleeping on a rock as from falling out

of a plane while wrestling a demon.I remembered my days in the Marines; sleeping on the ground,

cold and exhausted. I had pushed through then. Against incredibleodds I had succeeded and survived time and time again. I could do itnow too. In the night my mind had assimilated the new information.There were angels. There were demons. Fighting this demon wouldn'tbring Tom back, but maybe ridding the world of this beast would

make it a better place for everyone. I could do it.I looked up and there was the angel with the red cross on his

chest.What is your decision? He asked.I'm going to do it, I said, Or I'll die trying. I'm going to kill

the demon that killed Tom.


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The angel bowed his head.You cannot kill him with vengeance or wrath in your heart, he

said.What?

You cannot kill him with vengeance or wrath in your heart, herepeated.

I heard you the first time, I rolled my eyes. How will I killhim then?

You will know when the time is right.Ok. Who makes all these rules? I got roped into this whole

thing without any say in the matter, I have to be the one to do this,and apparently you're not allowed to be at all helpful. Is this God'sthing to just make up arbitrary rules and try to get people to play bythem? Is this some kind of sick game? I was getting angry again.

It is not your place to question the order of things, the angelcalmly replied. I can tell you that this demon is yours and yoursalone to fight and you must not fail when the time comes.

And when will that be?Soon.

***

Morgan/Miller and I ate breakfast over an open fire that morningwith the shining angels watching. The smoky sausage gravy andbiscuits sat precariously in my stomach.

Alright, I said to all of them, but directing my gaze to the

leader of the angels. what do we do?The angel answered quietly. We must go back to the compound

where you found the demon. That is the gateway to Hell that he usedto come to Earth.

Why doesn't God just banish him back? I asked. Why do Ihave to fight him? Why can't you do it?


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It is your planet. He answered. You do not have to doanything. Killing the demon will not bring your friend Tom back andit will not 'please God'. God has given you this place and you may dowhat you wish with it. If you want to let the demon gain power and

assimilate more followers then that is your choice.The angel's face darkened and his brow furrowed. He

unsheathed his sword and the others followed his lead. But, if youwill lead us into battle, we will help you defeat the fallen one.

I thought about it. This wasn't my fight. I didn't bring this demonhere. I didn't even believe in demons until yesterday, but I had anopportunity. An opportunity to send this beast back to hell where itbelonged. Iraq hadn't been my fight either, but I did that. Iconsciously steeled myself, my fingers curling into fists and myupper lip drawing back in a snarl as I tapped into the bloodlust andfury hidden within me.

Then we kill the demon. I said.The angel nodded.I looked down and found myself clad in the crimson robes and

silver armor of an Exousia. In a smooth motion I pulled my sword

from its sheath and marveled at the razor-sharp waves of the blade. Ilooked up again and Morgan and the angels were gone. I wasstanding at the edge of the compound where Tom and I had firstencountered the demon's human army. I stood there, looking at thecorn field and feeling the heat. For the first time I smelled the sulfurand could see the miragic waves of heat rising from the fields.

I knew what I had to do. I saw the guards running through the

corn towards me and I raised my shield. The bullets bounced away asI walked forward into the hail of lead. Angels appeared on all sides ofme and swiped down the guards like reapers to the grain as I walkedforward unopposed.

I saw the house before me and the demon standing on the porchwaiting for me.

The demon roared. It's rows of razor-sharp teeth flinging strings


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of saliva as it shook it's massive head. Mine was clear as I movedfaster towards it and broke into a run.

The demon leaped off the porch at me as I leaped up to meet it.We collided in mid-air. I felt the ferocious claws tear the silver

pauldron off of my left shoulder as we twisted in the air and then, amoment later, the warm sticky blood flow freely down my arm. Iswung my sword towards it and struck a glancing blow across thecreature's naturally armored chest. It screamed in pain. An ear-shattering howl that rattled my bones and my resolve. At once I wasfilled with horror and fear. I rolled over and back up to my feet. Theangels had formed a circle around me and the demon. It was alreadysteady and on its feet moving towards me.

I pushed my sword out defensively, off balance, and the demontook my thrust in stride. It's teeth hit my shield as I fell again and Icould feel the metal being scraped away as its jaws slammed shuthoping to find my flesh. I rolled over again, the demon on top of meand came up on a knee. My shield caught the demon under its chinand its jaws snapped shut inches from my face. I thrust my sword intoits belly and with a powerful flap of its wings the demon flew

backwards. It crashed through the circle of angels (knocking severalto the ground) and landed several yards behind them.

I stood up and slashed the air with my sword, slinging thebubbling demon blood off of it and onto the ground. I thought aboutTom and I felt the rage inside. My vision tightened and I was onlyaware of myself and the demon in front of me. I could feel the fire inmy shoulder, muted like a dim memory. The demon looked at its

wound and then back at me. It roared and launched straight up intothe air. It arced up a hundred feet and then suddenly turned and dovestraight down at me maw open and claws outstretched. Fear replacedmy righteous anger. I could see the angels in my peripheral vision.They stood with their wings wrapped around them, their swordspoint-down in front of them, and their heads bowed. The demon wasalmost on me. I knew why they had chosen me now. I knew why Tom


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had died. I could kill this demon and there was no reason to be afraid.If I failed then I would join Tom, but if I succeeded... In one quickmotion I dipped to a knee and stood back up thrusting the sword upabove my head as I went.

The point of my sword found its mark. The demon skewereditself on my blade. It let out a gurgling falsetto cry and rolled as itlanded, coming to rest on its hands and knees next to me. There wasno malice in my action as I shoved the undulating blade down thatdemonic throat, and when I was in up to my elbow and twisted thesword inside its gullet there was no anger in my heart. I destroyed thedemon as a thing of evil. Not because of what it had done to myfriend, but because of what it was. It was evil and it had to bedestroyed. So there was nothing but a calm satisfaction and peacewhen I saw the blade rip out of the demon's back and felt it try toscream with my arm down it's throat.

The creature began to smoke and bubble and I lost hold of mysword as it began to shake violently and stepped back from themonster. I looked into its eyes and, in a blink and a cloud of greasyblack smoke, it was gone.

I stood staring for a moment at the place where the demon hadbeen then shook my head to clear it and looked around. The angelsstood around me and my sword lay on the ground before me. Theleader of the Exousia stepped forward.

You fought well. You purged the wrath from your heart and didthe right thing. You put your own life at risk even though you would

gain nothing by doing it, and the demon could not compete with thatselflessness. Peace be upon you now. The angels vanished and Ifound myself naked once more.

***


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I paused here at the end of my tale. Dr. Martin sat in his chairwatching me. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. Hisnotebook lay open but unmarked in his lap.

That's the same story you told Dr. Stevens. It wasn't a questionbut I nodded in response anyway. Let's assume for a minute that it'strue...

It is true. I gritted my teeth.Well, uh, ok. So all those people in Chicago, the police officers

that were killed and the house that was bomb-- uh, blew up. That wasthe demon that did that?

Yes, I said. He didn't believe me. I don't know why I bothered.And the farm in Georgia, that was...The angels, I finished for him.Hmm...Well, thank you for sharing that with me. I'll have the orderlies

escort you back to your room and, he consulted a chart on hisclipboard, Monday you'll meet with Dr. Petrila. I trust that you willbe cooperative with her as well. After that, the board will meet and

we'll make a determination. Ok?Yeah, whatever.Two large men in white scrubs came through the door. They

hoisted me to my feet by the leather straps on my straightjacket andwalked me out of the office and back down the hall. We were buzzedinto the solitary ward by a bored-looking desk clerk and walkeddown the row of white metal doors, solid save a slot near the middle

(for feeding and removing straightjackets) and a small mesh-coveredobservation window above that. We stopped at number 15 and abuzzer sounded as the door slid open.

I stepped inside and waited for the door to close. One of theorderlies reached through the slot and unfastened the tight canvascoat. I waited until they were gone before I carefully stretched myshoulders. The left one had healed, but was still stiff sometimes and I


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had a horrible purple scar where the demon's claw had gotten me.What'd they say? came the voice from the cell next to mine.Shut up.Don't worry. You haven't done anything wrong. They can't keep

you here forever. Sooner or later they'll have to admit that it wasn'tyou and they'll let us go. You did the right thing and you're not goingto be punished for that. If those idiots had any idea what you did forthem they'd throw you a parade. You just have to have a little faith,that's what I always do. I'm not worried at all. I know we're going toget out of this and I...

Morgan! I shouted.Yeah?Shut up.


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Documents

Men and Their Demons