Philip Simpson - Tribulation

It must’ve been after midnight when he heard it. A scream. A woman’s scream. He was on his feet in a second, shocked out of his meditative trance, already berating himself for his lack of attention. He’d been elsewhere, his senses concentrating on the movements of demons outside. They were close — some Lemures had even shuffled up to the main doors and sniffed around for a while. He’d observed them closely, prepared to take them out before they could spread the alarm.

That was why he hadn’t noticed what was going on within the depot. Unsurprisingly. One of the woman — Sam hadn’t learnt her name yet; he wasn’t very good with names — had taken herself off to the toilet, using a dark recess on the depot floor. It was pointless using the tiny bathroom they’d discovered. It was blocked and in any case, hadn’t been working for years.

Sam’s senses found her immediately. He raced in that direction, conscious that the others were rousing themselves frantically. Outside, he knew the Lemure had heard the noise. Even now, they were scratching at the door.

“Everyone in the truck,” he shouted behind him. “Mike, you drive.”

He found her cowering, unable to see Sam clearly as he approached, just a large ominous patch of darkness.

“It’s ok,” he said. “I’m here. What happened?” He helped her to her feet.

“I… I saw something move. Over there,” she pointed in a corner. “I don’t know what it was.”

Sam reached out with his senses. He couldn’t sense anything, but then, yes, he could. Something tiny, almost mindless. And then he knew what it was. A rat. Their cover had been blown for a rat. The chicken of the apocalypse, probably the most common food source for survivors just because they were everywhere. A part of him wanted to be angry with this woman but he knew he was being unfair. It wasn’t her fault. She was just scared.

“It’s just a rat,” he said flatly.

“I’m… I ’m sorry,” she said.

Sam nodded even though he knew she probably couldn’t see the gesture. “I know,” he said. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

Almost dragging her behind him, he put her in the arms of Olivia who was helping load the others into the back of the truck. He noticed with relief that the packs were going in too. Someone was thinking clearly. The packs included his, thankfully. There were personal items in there that he would hate to lose, not to mention all of the food and water in the other packs. If they survived, they would need it. And that was a big ‘if’. The Lemure by themselves weren’t a problem. It was unlikely they would be able to get into the depot but their scratching had already attracted the interest of more powerful demons. Sam sensed at least one Astaroth circling. A group of Horned demons were also lumbering in this direction to investigate.

He caught Olivia’s eye. “What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just one of the others. Dead,” she said.

“How?” asked Sam but he already knew.

“Plague. She must have died during the night.”

Sam said nothing. What did you say at times like this? For all he knew, Olivia and this nameless victim of the bubonic plague had been friends or family. But he didn’t have time for that now. “Sorry, you’ll have to leave her. The guards won’t allow the body onto the base in any case.”

The words sounded harsh even as he said them. He caught Olivia frowning at him but he didn’t have time for that.

He darted over to the main depot doors at the rear of the building. The massive roller door looked like it was usually controlled electronically. No good. This building hadn’t had power in years. He inspected the area around the door with as much haste as he dared. Then he saw it. There was a chain dangling in the corner, used to manually open the door. Unlocking the door at its base, he yanked on the chain. Painfully slowly, the door edged upward. He pulled on the chain harder, again and again. When it reached the point where Sam thought the truck would clear the opening, he stopped. Outside, beyond the wire fence, he could see Lemure gathering. But he also saw something else. A fuel pump.

Mike and Olivia were already in the cab. Sam could see Mike struggling with something. He raced over.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“I think I’ve flooded it,” said Mike, his voice strained.

“Has it got gas?”

Mike nodded. “A bit.” Sam watched him turn the ignition. The truck gave a sick cough but the engine didn’t turn over.

“Try it again,” said Olivia.

She sounded as tense as Mike and Sam knew why. Heard clearly throughout the depot were sounds of frantic scrabbling against the main doors. These were interspersed with louder, heavier thuds. One of the Horned demons had reached the building. The door wouldn’t hold out for much longer. In the compound, the Lemure were stacking up, piling on top of one another. Soon, they’d be level with the top of the fence and be able to trickle over. That trickle would quickly turn into a flood.

Mike closed his eyes, took a deep breath and waited for a moment. Time seemed to drag; everyone in the depot seemed to hold their breath. Then Mike turned the key. The engine coughed again, louder this time, and roared into life. Sam heard several people cheer.

“Over here,” he yelled over the engine. “The pump’s over here.” Sam guided Mike over. The pump was locked of course, but Sam made short work of that with his Wakizashi. He thrust the nozzle into the truck and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

Mike poked his head out the window. “It needs electricity to run but there should be a hand pump.”

Quickly, Sam checked the other side. There was a rotary handle, also locked, which Sam cut through. He wound the handle and was rewarded with a splutter as diesel began to dribble out. He could feel it through the pipe. He wound harder and now the diesel began to flow. Mike kept the engine going. Inside, he heard a crash and a tearing sound. If Sam didn’t know better, it sounded like the door had just been torn off its hinges.

A terrible cry sounded from above. Sam looked up to see an Astaroth was descending. The nine people in the back were heedless of this. Sam shouted a warning but it was too late; the Astaroth tore out of the sky and hurtled down to the rear of the truck. It grasped one of the women in its leg talons and shot back into the sky again. She screamed in shock and terror. Sam could see her face clearly but knew there was nothing he could do for her. Several people raised their guns but there was no way they could fire for fear of hitting her. It would’ve been a mercy though. A fate worse than death awaited her.

As the Astaroth and the woman disappeared into the night’s sky, her screams drifted back to them on the warm breeze. The action seemed to act as a catalyst for the others. They began to scan the skies, moving their weapons around nervously.

Several things then happened at once. Sam heard the thud of enormous footsteps, and he looked up to see a massive Horned Demon at the door of the depot. It saw them, raised its huge stone mallet and charged. At the same time, the wire fence, incapable of maintaining its integrity any longer, collapsed under the weight of the mass of Lemure pressing up against it. They also surged towards the truck. Sam yanked the nozzle out and dropped it on the ground. Without him turning the pump, the flow of diesel dried up. He jumped into the passenger side of the cab next to Olivia.

“Go, go, go!” he yelled. “Drive.”

Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He revved the engine, and the truck sprang forwards, charging straight towards the horde of Lemure descending upon them. Mike didn’t bother to swerve. The truck itself weighed several tons. Combined with the plough at the front, it was almost an unstoppable force. The Lemure didn’t stand a chance. They scattered in front of him; any caught head-on were scooped up by the plough, most falling under the wheels of the truck where they were flattened. Many would have suffered injuries but most wouldn’t have been fatal. Only cold iron had the power to do that.