Philip Simpson - Tribulation

He sensed a great many human minds in the building, most of them coming and going beneath him. They seemed to be active during the day and the night. Sam assumed they had shifts.

Small portions of food and drink had been brought for him by a young scrawny male, probably around fifteen years of age. Every time was the same. Sam would hear the padlock opened, bolts being drawn on the outside. The door would open just enough to allow the boy to enter and deposit the tray on the ground. Outside the door, Sam caught of the armed guard that he sensed standing there. The guard was taking his job seriously, his mind radiating alertness and caution.

Sam tried to engage the boy in conversation but he was completely ignored. The boy didn’t dally in any case. As soon as the tray was on the ground, he was back out the door, seemingly reluctant to spend any more time than he had to in the room. Sam sensed fear in his mind. His demonic nature was probably common knowledge by now. Certainly the boy knew what he was.

They were the only two people Sam saw. Tony didn’t return. Even Grace didn’t bother to visit him. He told himself he didn’t care, especially after she’d revealed his true nature to Tony.

The food itself was, understandably, extremely simple. There wasn’t much of it either but it did include a little fresh fruit and vegetables. There was even fresh-tasting water. Like the survivors Sam had encountered on his way to New York, it looked like this lot were using hydroponics and had access to a fresh water supply. The food actually cheered Sam up a little, knowing that people were somehow eking out a living even in this huge city. He ate it all too, even though he wasn’t hungry or thirsty, believing that the sustenance may help his body heal. This in itself was an erroneous belief and he knew it. The only sustenance he really needed was the light of the blood moon that seeped in through the window at night.

He began to train again, running through his unarmed forms, doing press-ups and other calisthenics. Sometimes, he’d imagine he still had his swords. He cut down imaginary enemies by the thousands. Their absence pained him. It was like losing parts of his body.

On the third night since he’d been incarcerated, everything changed. Sam sensed something happening outside the door — a mind he’d not encountered before. There was a brief struggle and a muffled but tell-tale sound of a body being gently lowered to the floor. The padlock rattled slightly and then the bolt was drawn quietly across.

Sam moved behind the door as it silently slid open. A figure entered. Without waiting to see what they would do, Sam grabbed whoever it was and thrust them up against the wall. He held the person there by the neck, their legs dangling in the air. It turned out it was a he.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Sam hissed.

The man’s eyes bugged out. He pointed at his throat and made choking noises. Sam got the hint, letting the man down but keeping one hand around his collar.

The man took a breath and tried to rub his throat. He looked up at Sam nervously. Sam had never seen him before in his life. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Scruffy blond hair and a tattered jacket that had once been brightly colored gave Sam the impression that this guy had once belonged on the Californian surf beaches and not in New York.

“I’m here to get you out,” he finally blurted out, breathing heavily. “My name’s Travis.”

“Who sent you?”

“Someone who wants to help you. What’s with all the questions, dude? Do you want to get out or don’t you?”

Sam grudgingly took his hand off Travis’s collar. “I want to get out.”

“Right then,” said Travis, starting to sound more confident. He adjusted his collar. “Follow me. Keep quiet.”

“I need my swords and my pack.”

Travis shook his head. “No, you don’t. Not where you’re going. Besides, I wouldn’t have a clue where they are.”

Sam gritted his teeth in frustration. He’d have to get them later, even though he felt uneasy without them. The last few days had been horrible but he comforted himself with the knowledge that they were somewhere nearby. Now he was actually leaving them behind but he couldn’t exactly search this whole building for them. Right now, the important thing was to get out — to make sure that Adam and Colonel Wheat had received the warning. Other considerations — even his swords — were secondary.

Travis led him out of the room, past the guard slumped on the ground. The guard was still breathing, for which Sam was thankful. As a member of the resistance, the man obviously wasn’t in league with the demons and didn’t deserve to die for Sam’s freedom.

He followed Travis on silent feet. He had to hand it to the man — he moved surprisingly well, making almost as little sound as Sam himself. Cautiously they moved through two large rooms. Both of these rooms were filled with glass display cases containing police memorabilia, weapons and evidence from old and probably famous cases. Sam didn’t pay them much attention. Outside the second room, they discovered an emergency exit.

“No-one really uses this,” whispered Travis. “They lead almost straight to an access hatch which will take us to the sewers. They’re not guarded either because they lock from the outside. Once in, you can’t get out. The doors are fire proof — very thick.”

Sam nodded. He still didn’t know why Travis was helping him but he seemed well informed. Travis didn’t seem much of a threat either. Once out of here, Sam could easily overwhelm him.

They entered the emergency exit, closing the door silently behind them. Inside, it was pitch black. Sam was fine — he could still see well enough to negotiate the stairs — but Travis was a different story. Only human, Travis needed artificial illumination.

“Shield your eyes,” said Travis. There was a spark and then a flame as Travis used a lighter to ignite a candle he had produced from his pocket. Holding the candle before him, Travis led the way down the stairs. They descended maybe four flights. Either the building wasn’t very tall or Sam had been held on a lower floor.

They found themselves in a small sub-basement. Two exits led out of the room. One was marked ‘Maintenance’. It was this door that Travis opened with a key. Inside, the room was filled with shelves, all stacked high with what appeared to be cleaning supplies, mops, and plastic containers filled with chemicals. Without a word, Travis led Sam over to a corner, partially blocked and concealed by another shelving rack. Set into the floor of this unobtrusive corner was a large circular metal plate — easily big enough for a man to squeeze through. Sam knew immediately that it was made of iron. Grunting, Travis tried to lift it.

“Give us a hand, would you?”

Sam shook his head and made no move to help. “I’d rather I didn’t.” Travis had planned his route out carefully. He must have calculated on lifting the plate himself in the event that Sam was not able to help. He was probably just being lazy. Perhaps it was some kind of test? Regardless, Sam wasn’t going to play games.

Muttering to himself and shooting Sam a scathing look, Travis finally managed to wrangle the plate out of the way. Underneath was a grill, also made of iron. This one was locked with another padlock. Travis produced another key and swiftly unlocked it and moved this grill aside. Sam was impressed. No wonder no demons had gotten in this way. He understood now why no guard needed to be posted at this access point. Even in desperation, Sam couldn’t have gotten through such a secure grill.

On his knees, Travis poked his head through the hole, waving his candle away. Satisfied, he nodded to Sam and disappeared. Sam moved over and peered down it. The hole was a perfectly formed concrete tunnel leading down — presumably and judging from the smell — to the sewers about twenty feet below. Metal rungs were set in the concrete walls at regular intervals. Already, the candle light revealed Travis was almost half way down. Sam was about to follow when he sensed it. The rungs were made of iron. Typical. He could do this the hard way or the easy way.