Philip Simpson - Tribulation

He let the flames burn down until only glowing coals remained, then put some more rocks into it and let them heat up. He’d used this method before. During some overnight training expeditions in Utah as a youth, he and Hikari had sometimes cooked just like this. Just the act of preparation brought back fond recollections of him and the times they spent together. He wondered for a moment whether his old master was happy. He assumed so. Who wouldn’t be up there in Heaven? he thought sourly. Probably drinking ambrosia and nibbling the most delicate and delicious foods. While he sat on a rock and cooked rat. That was fair. The contrast made him smile for a moment.

He quickly went back inside to check on Grace. She hadn’t moved and seemed alright. Her bandages displayed some blood soaking, but not as bad as he had expected. In the kitchen he found some plates and a small pot that were clean but for a layer of dust. He wiped them as best he could with a rag and then returned to his fire. The stones were scalding hot by now. Turning them over, he placed the spitted rat’s skewers on them. They sizzled immediately, sending the delicious aroma of frying meat into the air. It may have been rat, but it still smelt good to him. Hopefully the smell alone would be enough to rose Grace out of her stupor and tempt her to eat.

Cooking the skewers more thoroughly than usual in case of disease, he set them on the plates to cool. He took the last rat, sliced the meat off it and put it in the small pot with some more of his dwindling supply of water, using it to make a broth. Finally, everything was ready and he returned to Grace’s bedroom. He propped her up on some pillows and fed her some of the soup. Her eyes still didn’t open but she seemed to open her mouth and swallow by reflex. Sam took this as a positive sign — at least she was eating.

While he fed her, he ate two of the skewers of rat meat. As he suspected, they were delicious; although he didn’t eat very often these days, he still got some basic enjoyment out of it. He chewed slowly, savoring the experience and taste as he spoon-fed Grace the last of the broth When they had both finished, he slid the meat off the remaining two skewers and hand-fed them to Grace. Somehow, she was still able to chew and he got the meat of at least one of the skewers into her before she pinched her mouth shut, refusing to eat anymore.

Gradually, over the next few days, Grace appeared to improve. Her skin color changed from the unhealthy pallor to a warmer glow. Her wounds were beginning to heal as well. Sometimes, when she slept, she’d scream. During those times, Sam would sit with her, Grace squeezing his hand so tightly that even he would grimace in pain, mopping the sweat off her brow as she thrashed about. She still hadn’t opened her eyes or uttered one coherent word…

Thankfully, no demons made an appearance which would have made their position untenable. It occurred to Sam to burn down the church. At first he thought it was pointless given that he’d have to thoroughly bless and wet the area with Holy water. How was he meant to do that with his pathetic amount of water? Then he got lucky. Exploring one of the other houses in the small town, he found an old well, deep in the cellar. The water was stagnant, but it was still water. A few drops of iodine or boiling it would make it safe for Grace to drink. He could also use it to make Holy water. He wasn’t a priest but he was sure that, under the circumstances, God would make an exception.

At first, he dismissed the idea. It was too risky burning down the church. The fire had the potential to spread and he wasn’t in a position to move fast enough with Grace in tow. Also, if the entire town burnt down, where was he meant to nurse her? Not only that, but he was extremely wary of Holy water. He wasn’t even sure if he could make it or not but he certainly knew the effect it had on him. It was like acid. If he was using buckets of it, he was bound to splash some of it on himself at some point. While not fatal in small quantities, it was certainly extremely painful.

But then the demons came. It was only a pack of Lemure but Sam didn’t take the threat lightly. He dispatched them with ruthless efficiency. Their appearance served as a catalyst for action. The demons knew that they were there now and the following night would bring them in greater numbers.

The next day, at dusk, he prepared carefully. He found a hardware store and emptied its shelves completely of buckets. He took several down to the well in the cellar, filling them with the stagnant water. He dampened down the house where Grace rested, dousing the walls with as much water as he could. Next, he set up a series of buckets near the church — to put out any fires that sprung up accidentally. He carried more buckets over to the church and set them down in front of it, gazing at them thoughtfully. His plan was to fill them with holy water but he’d have to bless them first, obviously.

If he was being honest, Sam wasn’t even sure that his plan would succeed. Wasn’t the water meant to come from a spring or at least a more pure source than a stagnant well? But then again, he remembered Big Tom saying that a wandering priest had done the same thing in his town and surely the water he used can’t have been much different?

He didn’t really know the proper words either, words that would bless or sanctify the water. He’d witnessed Father Rainey doing it back in Jacob’s Ladder, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember. He’d have to improvise.

“Gracious Lord, bless this water. Not for my sake — for Grace’s. She may not be your most loyal servant but she has made sacrifices for your cause. It was Grace who gave me the chance to confront my brother — the Antichrist. And isn’t that my mission, given to me by your Archangel Gabriel herself? To defeat my brother. To save the innocent. Grace may not be completely innocent, but she’s all I’ve got at the moment. Besides, I could do with a little help here. I don’t ask you for help very often, but I’m asking now. Just a bit.”

Sam knew it wasn’t much of a prayer but it was all he was up to at the moment. At first, he sensed and felt nothing and then slowly, he detected a change. He raised his head. Yes, something was different. Something in the air. He knew the water had altered then, could feel the goodness — the holiness radiating out from it. He’d turned plain old well water into a weapon for good. Something about it made him uneasy though. Perhaps it was his demonic side, instinctively willing him to stay away from it, knowing that it had the power to harm and potentially destroy him, especially in such quantities.

Gritting his teeth, resigned to check it, he gingerly dipped just the tiniest tip of one finger into the bucket. Immediately, he felt a searing pain and snatched his finger back even as the water in the bucket began to boil angrily. Right then. It was definitely blessed. He examined his finger. It was badly blistered; he sucked it, hoping to ease the pain.

Satisfied that everything was going to plan so far, he carried several armloads of branches and set a bonfire in the middle of the church. A part of him felt ill at ease. He was about to burn down a church, which didn’t seem right. There was nothing for it though. It had been desecrated and was now used for evil purposes. He was sure God would understand. Hadn’t he allowed Sam to create Holy water? Wasn’t that a sign that he had His unspoken approval to do what he was about to? He shrugged helplessly. It was what it was. If lightning struck him, or if he fell out of favor with the Lord, his life would hardly change on a purely physical level. It couldn’t get much worse.

He lit the fire. It went up surprisingly quickly, the flames licking eagerly at the wood on the fire and spreading rapidly onto the floor and then the walls. Sam was forced to retreat outside much sooner than he’d supposed.