Philip Simpson - Tribulation

Eventually, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Sam nodded but kept his eyes on the ash covered road in front of him. “Thanks.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her watching him. “It’s just that no one has helped me before. Ever since the Rapture, I’ve been by myself. Had to watch out for myself. Anytime anyone tried to do something for me, they always wanted something. It’s hard to break the habit of mistrust.”

Sam nodded once more. “I know and I understand. Forget about it. I’m used to it.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while. Sam was glad that they’d cleared the air a little bit. Glad that she’d actually thanked him. It put a little spring into his step.

“Something’s been bothering me,” she said finally. “It’s about that demon. You know, that giant burning dog. I know some of the others have been talking about it.”

“What about it?” Sam knew he was on shaky ground here. He’d have to play this carefully.

“Why didn’t it attack you? Why did it attack those who are meant to be on its side?”

Sam shrugged, hoping it looked convincing. “Beats me,” he said, trying hard not to look at her and gauge her reaction. His words didn’t really ring true in his ears, so he doubted whether he was fooling her for a second either. “I’ve always had a thing for dogs. I was never allowed one when I was growing up so maybe this demon dog sensed that.”

“Yeah… maybe,” she said slowly, letting the words hang. Suddenly, she changed tack. “So, why did you do it? Rescue us, I mean?”

Sam smiled crookedly. “Would you believe an angel asked me to do it?”

Olivia stopped dead in her tracks, looking at Sam in disbelief. He kept walking, struggling not to let his grin get wider.

A couple of hours later and Sam knew they weren’t going to make it. At least half of the survivors were in no condition to go much further. They were almost dead on their feet as it was. Sam called a halt several hundred feet from a large fenced structure.

“What’s wrong with spending the night there?” asked one of the men, a white male with rotten teeth who had introduced himself earlier as Mike.

Sam shook his head. “Too close to the church. There’s one not far from here off the state highway. The demons will be able to sense us.”

“We haven’t really got much of a choice, have we?” said another woman. Sam thought her name might be Sue but he couldn’t be sure. Her hair, clearly once a vibrant red, was now dull and gray as the ash that surrounded them.

Sam sighed but he knew that they were both right. There was no way they were going to make it to the safe house he’d picked out. Better to be in this structure — whatever it was — than face the demons in the open. Sam was confident he’d be able to look after himself and escape but these others would be doomed. He wasn’t about to leave them to their fate, especially after expending so much effort to rescue them in the first place.

It wasn’t long now until darkness fell. They’d have to move pretty quickly. Sam made a decision. “Ok. We’ll spend the night in this place up here. I don’t know what it is but it’s better than nothing. Let’s pick up the pace and see if we can secure it properly.”

The others agreed, moving as swiftly as their exhaustion allowed. Shortly, but not nearly as quickly as Sam would’ve liked, they found themselves outside the two-storied structure.

“What is this place?” asked Olivia. Sam shook his head. He had no idea.

“It looks like one of the county storage depots,” said Mike. Everyone turned to stare at him.

“How do you know that?” asked Sue.

“I used to work for the county,” said Mike. “Sanitation.”

“Sanitation?” asked Sam.

Mike smiled slightly and shrugged. “Yeah. I was a garbage collector.”

“So, Mr. Garbage Collector, how do you propose we get in?” asked Olivia.

Sam had to concede she had a point. It was like Fort Knox. The front of the building was solid brick with only one heavy looking door. A wire fence with rolls of barbed razor wire atop it, ran from the sides, enclosing a large area around the back.

Mike eyed the building warily. “To be honest, I don’t know. These depots are designed to withstand vandalism and theft because they’re often unattended in the weekends. From memory though, some of them have skylights to let a little natural light in. Someone will have to get up there though. Good luck with that.”

“I’ll try,” said Sam, without hesitation. He liked to climb. He’d spent much of his youth climbing the rocks around Devil’s garden. He liked to think he’d been pretty good at it too.

No one argued or volunteered, but then, Sam didn’t see how they could. No one else was in any kind of condition to attempt something like this. He shrugged off his pack and Katana, re-strapping the sword to his back. Thus prepared, Sam assessed the structure. It was fairly impenetrable but he supposed that was the whole point. He could cut his way through the wire fence — he knew without doubt that his swords would make short work of it but then they’d be in the same predicament, without any way to get into the building itself.

Frustration set in. It wasn’t long until it got dark, and he really didn’t have time to waste. On the far corner of the building, he finally spotted something useful. It was a downpipe where rain run-off was siphoned from the roof. It also made the perfect climbing assistant.

He darted over to it. Testing it once for stability, he began to climb. It didn’t feel particularly strong but he didn’t really have an option. He moved rapidly, conscious that two of the securing brackets had already come loose but managed to make it to the roof without incident and sighed with relief.

It was essentially featureless. A flat, empty roof. Sam was about to climb down again in disgust when he found what he was looking for. On the far side of the roof, he could just make out a skylight. With no time to lose, he scuttled over to it. It had a metal grate over it, of course. And of course, the grate was made of iron. In order to get in, Sam would essentially have to destroy it. That would make the structure vulnerable to attack, especially from the skies — from Astaroth in particular. But there was no helping it.

He drew his Katana. Narrowing his eyes in concentration and focusing his energy for precision and power, he struck down. Once, twice. His blade cut through the solid metal bars almost without resistance. He removed the cut segments, ignoring the hiss of burning flesh and sharp pain as his naked flesh made contact with the iron. The skylight was operated by a simple latch. Using his telekinetic power, he willed it to move, smiling in grim satisfaction as he heard it snick open. He lifted it up and stuck his head in. It was dark, other than the weak glow provided by the skylight. No sound. Nothing moving. His senses detected neither human nor demon presence. The place was clear.

He wiggled through, feet first, dropping the last five feet to the floor where he considered the now gaping hole in the roof. It was far, far too small to allow an Astaroth access but it was a pretty obvious advertisement that someone had been here. He’d have to close it but he’d need help to do that. Later.

He was on a mezzanine floor. It had clearly been an office of some sort once, with windows opening on to the warehouse floor. It was now all but empty, with only a few boxes of files covered with a thin film of cinder and dust. It was very dark but Sam’s eyes easily made out the shapes of various machines and vehicles. Finding the stairs, he sped down them, taking them several at a time. On the ground floor, he found the main door. It was secured by a solid built-in lock. He was about to attack it with his sword when another thought offered itself. He simply turned the handle; to his surprise, the door opened. Even if it had been locked, he probably could’ve used his telekinesis to open it. He cursed himself for his foolishness. He’d basically destroyed the skylight above when he could’ve almost just walked in.