The Chronicles of Detroit, Michigan

By Alex Gordon

Michael, aged seventeen, is slumbering on an eerily hot spring night. Without warning, a human with purple eyes breaks through his window and pins Michael to the bed. At that moment, a skeleton leaps out of the night and cuts the head off as more humans with purple eyes flood in. The skeleton set to work on cutting them down. Soon, Michaels room resembles a slaughterhouse.

Father Gordon drags Michael from his room to an awaiting van as a purple hue consumes the city of Detroit. In the van, Michael learns that he has been born in a war of the heavens and Derrock and that he is the reason for the purple hue. He also learns that one half of his soul is pure, the other evil.

Will the pure light of his soul bring the end to all souls or will evil damn the earth and heavens to damnation? Michael has the beast stirring inside, and it wants out. Can Michael control the beast and his mind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Feb 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524522759

Alex Gordon

Alex Gordon is the former sports editor of the Sunday Mail and has run the sports agency 7 Day Press for the past 18 years. He has written many books on Scottish football including The Lisbon Lions: The 40th Anniversary and the autobiographies of Davie Hay, Bertie Auld and Chic Charnley.

Book preview

1

I T WAS TWO WEEKS BEFORE spring break when a record heat wave roasted the city. Detroit had never experienced such ferocious weather phenom enon.

It’s so hot, and this history class is so boring I thought.

I was leaning back on the chair, staring at the white paint peeling and bubbling away from the ceiling and also the walls. The carpet was so badly worn it was almost impossible to see any patterns or colour on it. In some parts, the carpet had been worn through to the floorboards.

Cutback means no air-conditioning, and this classroom is the best in the school when it comes to being the coolest. Cheap bastard!

The teacher was a medium-framed middle-aged woman with short brown hair and wears glasses. She was wearing black pants and a pink polo top. I was trying to listen to her, but I was struggling to understand what she was teaching. The heat was messing with my mind. I had no idea what she was taking about.

Fuck this! I scanned my classmates until I saw something which got my attention. Wow! Who might you be my pretty. That’s nice. With long dark hair tied into a ponytail, I can only see the side of your face. That’s all I need! It looks soft with a smooth olive complexion. Her skin looks soft to the touch. She’s wearing thin-framed glasses that enhance her delicate features. Oh so hot! Okay! Your shirt is so tight! It looks as though your plain white shirt can’t hold your boobies back. God! How I wish your buttons would pop off one by one. Her shirt hugs her slim waist, emphasising her shapely body and those legs, long and tan that seem to go on forever. What I would give for a little look under that …

I began to feel uncomfortable in the chair and began to squirm restlessly.

Ouch, who is throwing shit at me? Damn it! Who the hell is throwing shit at me! I looked to my side. It’s coming from the left. I looked to a short stocky built male with green eyes and black hair with a cowlick. He had a black T-shirt on, which had the name of a heavy metal band printed on it.

Jack Said Michael you asshole, what was that for?

He pointed to the teacher, who she was tapping her foot.

‘Michael, stop daydreaming!’

I felt eyes from the entire classroom on me.

‘Now, can you tell me what Tasmania was called during the convict’s times?’ asked the teacher.

Damn it! I am fucked now! I said, ‘I don’t know, Miss.’

She walked over to the object of my short fantasy and handed her a piece of paper. Then she made her way to me and placed the same pieces of paper on my desk. ‘Now listen, this is the last assignment before the summer vacation, and that is to find out what Tasmania was called and the name of the explorer who discovered it. You will work with Emily, got it?’

‘Yes, Miss!’ I exclaimed.

She gave me a long glaring stare that put the fear of god in me. She returned to the front of the class, picking up where she left off.

Jack leaned over. ‘Who were you checking out?’ he whispered.

I put my arms on the wooden desk and replied, ‘The girl in the centre of the room just off to the right.’

Jack took a look. ‘The one with the long hair and the rack?’

‘Yep! Nice are, they not?’ I said, and we both smiled.

The bell rang, and the classroom slowly emptied. I was still packing up the books when a shy, sweet voice said, ‘This is where I live. Will I see you tomorrow?’

Emily was holding a note. I was lost for words as I was captured by her light-blue eyes.

‘Um … yes.’ My voice breaks with a high-pitched squeal as I took the note from her soft hand. She turned and giggled, walking slowly away towards the door. Then Emily stopped, took another look at me, and then disappeared out the door.

‘Michael, damn it! Michael, snap out of it!’ yelled Jack.

‘Wh-hat?’ I said, slow to respond.

Jack pushes me out into the hallway. ‘I’ve got to take a piss. I will meet you at your locker.’

‘Okay, Jack.’ I snapped out of the daze I was in.

The hallway was alive with kids. Most were tending to their lockers. Others were kissing. Then two science club members were hauling ass through the hallway as the quarterback and his three line backers nipped at their heels in hot pursuit.

I walked to my row of lockers, dodging the holes in the orange vinyl flooring. I opened the locker and swapped the books for the ones I needed for homework. I reached for my bag on the top shelf, placing the books inside then zipping it closed. As I closed my locker, I heard something in the locker next door. I opened it to find that another person had been stuffed inside. I didn’t get a good look at the kid, just at his freckled face, thick glasses, and blonde hair.

‘How did you know I’m in here?’ he said.

‘There is always someone in here! Would you like a hand getting out?’ I asked.

The young kid smiled and, speaking in a calm tone, said, ‘No, I will just get stuffed back in here. Can you close the door so I can open it when everyone’s gone?’

I did as he asked though a little curious to know why. Normally, I had to help unfold their bodies out. I left the locker open just a little bit.

Jack came running down the hall, tripping over one of the holes in the flooring and almost eating it.

‘Michael, you ugly tall green-eyed bastard, what have you been doing?’ said Jack.

‘Waiting for you. And what’s this ugly? I have more muscle then you.’ I smiled, remembering the last time I kicked my best friend’s ass.

‘Yes, well, we are catching the bus tonight, right?’ Jack said impatiently.

‘Yes, Jack,’ I replied.

‘Well then, we better run. Otherwise, we will miss it,’ Jack said.

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was just a bit past three thirty. ‘Shit, run!’

We ran past the row of ugly green lockers, almost running over half a dozen kids on the way out, some of them cursing as we ran past. We made it outside when the heat hit, draining our strength as the sun bit down on our skin. Seeing the yellow buses pulling up was a welcome sight.

‘We are not too late,’ said Jack, out of breath.

We kept running down the rows of buses till I found the right bus. I waved Jack over. He almost got on to the wrong bus. What a dumb-ass. We jump on board.

A fat, stumpy driver in black shorts reaching to the knee and a faded thin red T-shirt says, ‘No fooling around, got it?’

Jack nodded while I pushed him up the sticky walkway to the back of the bus. The seats were benches and brown; most of them had tears. White paint was peeling away from the wall of the bus, showing the grey primer. The moment we sat down the vinyl stuck to our legs, making it uncomfortable to move around. Jack and I wiped the sweat away from our foreheads, catching our breaths as the bus filled up. All the kids were talking among themselves; others sat on their own. The doors finally closed. The bus came to life and pulled away.

‘You should have taken your pop’s car, Michael. It at least has air-conditioning. I’m sweating my ass off in this buck of shit,’ Jack complained.

‘Nana needed it today. Don’t bitch. It’s better than walking in the heat,’ I replied.

The bus hit the bumps in the road that shot pain into everyone’s backs and making the ride uncomfortable. There is very little padding in the seats, once again due to no extra funding.

I saw my stop, and I walked down the aisle with Jack in tow. The bus braked hard, sending Jack crashing into the back of me. I grabbed the corner of a seat to stop us from hitting the windshield. I regained my balance and rose as the door opened. I walked out, and Jack gave the driver a foul look. I grabbed Jack by the shirt and pulled him out of the bus, causing Jack to fall to the ground.

‘What was that for?’ Jack said angrily.

‘Jack, think before you do something dumb, okay?’ I said, smiling.

Jack glared at me, trying to be intimidating. ‘Michael, it’s hot,’ he complained.

I help Jack up. The city’s skyline catches my eye; a white-and-grey smog had swallowed most of the tall buildings. There was a strange haze around some of the buildings that I couldn’t make out; it was kind of odd.

Jack and I walked pass by streets and blocks of empty houses; every third or fourth house was falling down or was burned out.

‘This neighbourhood is getting worse,’ Jack sighed.

‘The white-goods factory closed about a month ago, most of the kids and their parents have moved out. Some are leaving most of what they owned behind. I think it was four hundred jobs in all. And what about your dad?’ I asked.

‘Well, mother is working interstate, but last week, nine hundred jobs where axed at the car plant where Dad works. He is waiting for the tap on the shoulder. I’m like you, Michael. I hate this place. If I had my way, I would be out of here tonight. I want Dad’s work to fire him so we can all be together in the small town where Mum lives. I don’t get to see her all that much, and Dad hates being away from her as well,’ Jack said with a tone of pain.

‘Then why don’t you go, Jack? If I had my way, I would be out of this godforsaken hellhole now.’

‘Michael, it comes down to the house. Mum and Dad owes more than what it’s worth. If Dad gets the ass, then we can legally abandon it and cut our losses, or so my dad said,’ Jack said, wiping the sweat from his head.

We stopped in front of a hedge of blue and white roses. Behind that is an off-cream single-storey fibrosheeting house with two large windows and a porch with a swing chair. My nan, in her late sixties, is wearing a light-yellow dress and knitting.

‘Jack, if you go, I will miss you,’ I said sadly.

‘Nah, you won’t. I do believe that you have a hot date tomorrow and she may even give you a peck down under.’ Jack smiled, turned the corner, and disappeared into the traffic.

I walked down the blue-stone path to the front door and took off my shoes.

‘How was school?’ Nana asked.

‘Hi. Hot. My mind kept wandering,’ I replied with a smile.

Nan put down the knitting needles and picked up a pitcher of lemonade from the small wicker table and poured a glass.

‘You have a room to clean, okay?’ Nana said.

‘I’m on it,’ I replied. I opened the fly screen door and took a step on the polished floorboards.

‘Michael?’

‘Yes, Nana.’

‘On the kitchen table is some home-made cookies and a can of soda, okay?’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘You’re welcome,’ said Nan, followed by a warm smile.

I walked down a light-blue hallway with small holes on the walls. There was a light-brown outline along the wall, where picture frames used to hang. The hallway opened up to a small kitchen.

The stove, sink, cupboards, and drawers shared one part of the wall, which was partly tiled, the colour an earthy brown. Off to one side was a big old fridge, and in the middle was a plain square wooden table with four matching chairs. I took the can of soda and placed it on my head, enjoying the cold can. I opened it and drank half the contents, picked up the cookies, and continued down other small hallway.

The temptation to run to the other side of the house and slide down the polished floorboards was almost too great. However, the last time I did that, I lost control and smashed head first into the dry wall. Pop was not happy about that, and I had to fix it.

I opened the door to my bedroom. A blast of heat hit me. DVDs and CDs were scattered all over the room, and there were cases everywhere; even the chest of drawers was covered. The floor in parts was ankle-deep in dirty laundry. My bed was a twisted mess of sheets and blankets. The nightstand and the TV unit had dirty dishes stacked high.

It’s not that bad, I thought, biting into a cookie.

I threw my bag down and was thinking of where to start when the large hand of my grandfather gripped my shoulder.

‘It smells of feet, Bo, and something you should use a tissue for.’ Pop cracked an evil smile. ‘Your nana was going to clean this mess for you, my son, but I told her only evil lives here. I will take the dishes, okay?’ Pop said, still smiling and enjoying my embarrassment.

I nodded and started by tossing the dirty clothing out into the hallway and packing up the rest of the mess. I wrestled with the bedding, reached under the bed, and pulled out the laundry basket. I loaded it up and headed for the basement.

The basement only had a water heater and a washing machine and a dryer. I separated all the white from the coloured and loaded the machine. I was careful not to ram anything into it. The last time I did that, I flooded the basement.

I reached into the basket, taking a T-shirt out. That uncovered a pile of socks that smelled so bad it almost made me dry-retch. The ginger cat on the dryer shook its head, displeased at being disturbed and by the odour. It turned around, aimed, and sprayed me in the side of the face then casually ran way.

Enraged, I gave chase. I reached the top of the stairs, but my feet slipped, causing me to crash on to the kitchen floor. I slammed my hand down as the cat put its tail high in the air and pranced down the hall.

‘I’m going to kill that bloody thing!’ I snorted.

‘And break Nana’s heart,’ said Pop.

I looked up to the table, where Pop was reading the paper and having a cup of tea. Pop pulled one side of the newspaper down, looked at me, and giggled. ‘That looks nasty. Why can’t you two just get along?’ Pop said in a playful tone.

I got up, rubbing my hip.

‘You get washed up, son, and I’ll start the washing machine for you,’ Pop said.

I nodded and headed for the bathroom just across my room. How does that ginger menace keep getting the better of me? I wondered. I opened the door to the bathroom; from the tiled floor to the ceiling, it was in lime green. I turned the tap on and washed my face in the pink sink while devising a way to off the cat and how to make it look like an accident.

I walked over to my room, opened the window. There was a gentle, cool breeze blowing in. I sat on the bed and unpacked all my homework, taking a deep breath and beginning.

Two hours later, the smell of lamb chops and mashed potatoes wafted through the air. I raised my head out of the books and followed the smell to the kitchen, where Nana was dishing up tea.

‘You be hungry?’ Nana said.

‘Damn straight,’ I replied.

I took a seat next to Pop, and we held hands and said grace. We ate and talked about the day’s events. When I was done, I helped with washing up and returned to my room, finishing what little homework I had left. I spent the remainder of the night watching the tube.

At round ten, there was a knock on the door.

‘Yep,’ I answered.

‘Your pop and I are off to bed. Don’t stay up to late. Love you,’ Nana said lovingly.

‘Love you,’ I said.

She closed the door. I got up and stripped down to my boxers and walked over to the window. I could hear the insects chirping in the summer-like night. The mosquitoes buzzed around the fly screen, a little annoyed that they couldn’t get in for their evening meal. I closed the window and pulled down the blind; the stars were too bright tonight. I lay down on the bed, turned the volume down on the TV, then closed my eyes.

Later that night, I woke up. There were no noises of the night. I looked to the TV; it was on, but there was no glow from the screen, and it cast no shadow. There were no shadows of anything in my room. Feeling paranoid, I snapped my head left to right fast then to the centre of the room, trying to work out the dead silence. Realising I was half asleep, and that it was probably nothing, I yawned and went back to sleep.

There was a snapping sound and another. Then the window exploded, sending a wave of broken glass crashing to the bed and floor. I moved my arm to protect my face. I heard something on the ceiling. I looked up to a dark-skinned thinly built male with corn rolls and eyes closed, crawling around the light then stopping above the bed.

I flinched, and the man dropped, pinning me to the bed. He opened his purple eyes burning with hate and excitement.

A hit of adrenaline rushed through my veins, making my heart pound hard in my chest, breathing shallowly and erratically as I fought the man. I was rapidly losing strength, and fear was taking hold.

‘Get the fuck off!’ I shouted.

The man laughed through his foul-smelling teeth, leaned close to his prey, sniffing me, and then licked my face to taste my fear.

‘Do I smell good, you sick motherfucker? I’m going to kill you!’ I yelled.

Suddenly, a skeleton leaped out of the night and on to the back of the man, grabbing his hair and ripping the head back; with a two-foot-long hunting knife, it took the head with one swipe. I was showered in hot blood that continued to fall as my eyes met the skeleton who had a bloodied knife in the left hand and, in the right hand, the head of the man with a grin frozen on his face.

Out of the corner of my eye, another well-built white male scrambled into the room and pushed the body on to the floor, taking the skeleton with it and almost taking me as well. But the man ripped me back to the bed and pinned my arms hard to the bed, almost breaking them. A sharp pain came, and I had nothing left to fight with. I gave up as the man stared at me with those purple eyes filled with hate.

I was waiting for the moment when my life would end as all hope faded. Then I saw the tip of a knife passing through the man’s neck. The head fell on to my chest as a fountain of blood erupted. The sizzling, sticky sensation made my skin crawl. The metallic smell of blood was overpowering. The body fell, landing on the floor, taking the skeleton with it.

I snapped my head to the centre of the room; a thin-framed young girl with purple eyes was at the end of the bed, about to pounce. The door was kicked in, then came a blast that made my ears ring. The head of the girl exploded, sending blood and brain across the room. The body stood for a second and fell as the room was filled with the spicy smell of gun powder. I cast my eyes to the door; there was Nana in a plain white nightie stained in blood splatter. Standing there with a matt back semi-automatic shot gun.

I heard two rounds of gunfire coming from inside the house and then a thud. My eyes were fixed on Nana as I heard one more round of gunfire, and I saw Pop through the muzzle flash. That stone-cold, hard look on his face made me nervous. Pop stood next to Nana, holding a smoking sliver .45 semi-automatic pistol.

The two skeletons rose up, their bones soaked in blood. One of them leaped out the window and into the dead of the night.

‘Time to go.’

I looked to the voice. It was a red-haired priest with a six-shooter at the ready, standing by the window.

The skeleton picked the head off my lap and tossed it to one side; it ripped the bloodstained sheets off then reached down to pick me up. I tried to put up a fight.

‘Lad, you fight, I will cut you like the rest,’ said the skeleton. The words sliced through me, and I yield.

The skeleton carried me outside, where Nana and Pop were waiting. The skeleton put me down next to them. I saw a plum tree in my backyard; there was a purple hue coming from it. I walked over to the tree and touched it.

What is this? I bent down to the ground. The same thing was happening to the grass. I tore off a blade of grass; the purple hue lasted for a couple of seconds then disappeared. I slowly stood and looked. The purple hue was on anything that lived. Even the cat resting on the fence had a purple hue.

What in the hell is going on? What is this purple hew? I thought.

A skeleton reappeared for the night and threw a shotgun to the other skeleton. He also had a glass bottle with a scrap of cloth in it; it smelled of gasoline. It lit the cloth and tossed it into the bedroom.

Nana led me back to the group. With care, we all walked down the side of the house, on to the stone path, eyes always looking for danger. I stopped at the rose hedge; the same purple hue is on them. But something about the way the colour melted from their delicate petals was so saddening to witness.

‘Come on, lad. No time to smell the roses,’ said the skeleton, pushing me into a red van.

The adrenaline was wearing off. My heart slowed, and so did my breathing. Looking out of the van’s back windows as it pulled away at high speed, I saw a purple haze shrouding the city. Then one by one, the lights of the buildings went out.

‘Nana, what in the hell is going on?’ I said in an angry tone.

She tried to wipe the blood from my face, but it was drying fast and sticking to the skin.

‘There is much to tell you, but keeping you safe and alive is what’s important, okay?’ she said lovingly.

I curled my legs and arms together. Where are the stars and the insects? I heard noises in my room, but when I walked on the stone path and the grass, it made no sound. And what in the hell is this purple haze? And the skeletons, they can walk, they can talk! Am I mad? I wondered. Then I dozed off.

2

H OURS LATER, I RAISED MY weary head. In front were the two skeletons with weapon at the ready, their bones tense. Pop was leaning on the van wall with the . 45. in his hand that was resting on his knee, the muzzle pointing to the floor. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow. Nana was sitting next to me with her back on the passenger seat. The shotgun was on her lap, with the butt digging into my side.

There was someone new here, another priest. This man felt cold and hard, as if killing had been his life. His instrument of death, the katana was in his lap, his arms folded over it. I shivered, thankful I didn’t see his latest work. There was blood that had pooled around him, some still dripping from his pants.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, my voice squeaky.

The man opened one black eye, nodded, then closed it.

‘You sound like a rusty old gate, my son.’

I looked at the red-haired priest, and in turn, he give me a bottle of water.

‘Now where are my manners? I’m Father Gordon, and the man driving is Father Baker,’ he said with a warm smile creeping across his lips. We will be there soon. I know you have many questions and be somewhat angry with the way we had to meet,’ said Father Gordon.

‘Where is there?’ I asked.

‘A safe house,’ replied Father Gordon.

I took a deep breath and drank the rest of the water. The van slowed. It braked hard, jerking everyone in the back. Pop moved his gun down and set it on his lap. The van stopped, kicking up gavel. The two skeletons opened the back doors, leaped out, and slammed them closed. A few minutes later, the sliding door of the van opened, and one of the skeletons gave a thumbs up.

I moved out into the warm night air. The sound of insects greeted me; the bright stars and full moon surrounded us. I stretched.

This is all a bad nightmare. I am still in bed, and there is no purple hue on anything—or anyone getting killed, I thought. I looked at my bloodstained body; it seemed real. But is it? I wondered. Father Gordon, the other priest, and the skeletons joined me.

Nana put down the shotgun then hugged me. ‘I’m sorry all this had to happen. I love you, and you have been my greatest pride. My life wouldn’t have been fulfilled without you. Take care. May the Holy Ghost watch over you,’ she said with such sadness. She kissed me on the head then moved back into the van.

Pop handed over his .45, taking my shoulder. ‘You are a man now. Whatever decision you make, keep them balanced. Stay true to yourself and to your heart. It will never lead you astray. Take care. I love you, my grandson. May the Father and Son watch over you,’ he said, holding back tears as he joined Nana. They took a fleeting look at me and then slid the door closed. The van sped away into the night.

‘What in the fucking hell is going on? I’m not doing anything until I get told why Nana and Pop are leaving and what in the fuck has happened!’ I said, pissed off, waving my hands in the air.

Father Gordon took my wrist, directing it to the ground. ‘That’s a loaded gun, my son. Take more care. Now claim yourself. They had no choice. Stay would have killed them and you. Now the blood has dried on your body. I can’t have their grandson running around in his boxers now, can I?’

‘No, I guess not,’ I replied in a submissive tone. Then I snorted. ‘I had better get the bloody answers I want.’

I followed Father Gordon with the other priests and skeletons down a narrow path lined with trees. The bright full moon made it easy to see; however, I was so exhausted I missed some of the stray branches. I was getting a little annoyed about being hit in the face and almost walking head first into larger branch and the sticks and stones and other rubbish on the path. They were mean my bare feet as I walked.

The path opened up to a sight that made my blood run cold and sent shivers up and down my spine. There lay an old graveyard full with tombstones and crypts. At the end was a black-stone church bathed by the slivery moonlight, which made it look evil; there were two large demon gargoyles high on the roof. There stone eyes seemed to always followed us, always watching as we walked. There were no windows on that godforsaken church.

As I followed Father Gordon down one of the many vine-canopied paths that were in the graveyard, I got this weird feeling like I was not welcomed here as an owl hooted and took flight from a headstone with a bloody mouse in its talons.

Father Gordon stopped. I bumped into the back of him.

I looked around. There were priests with swords and others who had assault rifles; all had their eyes on me. Father Gordon gave them a nod, and then all disappeared behind the tombs and headstones.

‘Michael, you will be safe here. In fact, the safest place in the world is a graveyard,’ said Father Gordon.

Safe from what and whom? I thought as I looked over my shoulder to the walking skeletons. The words gave me no comfort.

Now I was even more tired than before all this started.

Father Gordon stopped in front of two large wooden doors of the black-stone church. One of the doors opened. There stood a short and almost-bald older priest with grey hair.

‘Welcome. Come in,’ he said.

I was taken aback by what I saw. There was a desk and two red leather couches with a coffee table in the middle. The rest of the space was filled with bookshelves stuffed full with books, and there were piles of books on the floor, some as tall as me.

‘My name is Father Gary. I’m sorry about the mess. I don’t get visitors that much. Now if you, Michael, and the skeletons will come with me. Father Gordon, sit. Make yourself at home,’ he said.

The skeletons and I followed the priest down a black-stone hallway to a door on the left; the two skeletons sat on the slate floor.

‘This is the bathroom. There is a change of clothes waiting for you, okay, my son?’ said Father Gary in a friendly tone.

I opened the door. The room was like the rest of the church—black-stone walls with red-brown slate floor. Mustering the last of my energy, I stepped in and closed the door and walked to the white vanity unit. There were black pants, a white shirt, and new boxer shorts with the sale tag still attached. I picked up a large towel from the white bath. I tossed the clothing and carefully placed the gun on the floor next to the shower, hanging the towel on the curtain rod. Then I turned it on. I tried to pull down my boxers, but the blood had glued them tight.

I hope it comes off in the shower, I thought as I stepped in.

The metallic smell of the blood being washed off made me light-headed. I was relieved that the boxes were losing, that I was able to pull them off. I leaned my head on the black-stone wall, allowing the water to massage my back, all the time trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened. I wondered when I would ever see my grandparents again. All I wanted was a bed to sleep in for the next two days.

***

Father Gordon sat on the couch, a pile of books on his lap. The musty smell took him back to days spent studying ancient bibles’ scripts. That was one of his favourite university courses all through those years ago. With care, he placed the books in a pile by his feet. From his jacket, he removed the chrome .38 revolver, open it, took out the spent shells, and put them in his pocket. Then he fished for a small tin and a box of new shells. He found them both deep in his pocket; he opened the tin and took a brush to clean his gun.

As he was doing this, he saw Father Gary by the desk, pulling out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses from the top drawer. Then he navigated through the piles of books till he got to the couch. He sat, removed a matt black .45 fully automatic pistol from his jacket, and puts it on a pile of book near his left leg.

Then he poured just over a nip of Scotch in each glass, handed one to Father Gordon, who took it with his one free hand.

They both raised their glasses and said, ‘May the Father the Son and the Holy Ghost take us in their warm embrace should evil rip our soul and feast. Amen.’

Father Gary poured another glass then pushed the bottle to Father Gordon and asked, ‘What happen in Detroit? Your orders were just surveillance and recon in the city. How did the mission go to hell so fast?’

Father Gordon reloaded his gun, placed it on the coffee table, took the bottle, and poured another glass. He took a deep breath. ‘Thing went from bad to worse fast. I had my orders, which I flowed. That was to find the spike in demonic energy. I was sent into the city with the two skeletons and one silent priest as backup. I found that a bit odd. The elders know I like working on my own.

‘When we entered Detroit, I could feel the demonic energy. At the time, it was faint at best but was there nevertheless. I sent the skeleton to the warehouse district, while the silent priest and I scoured the central business district but to no avail. We all regrouped at the city cemetery at one in the afternoon as agreed.

‘What the skeletons reported made my blood run stone cold. They had found dark humans—not just ten here and there. No, they numbered in the hundreds. All of them hadn’t been possessed that long. They also found plans to take Michael. To make things more complicated, humans were in the hunt as well for Michael. I tried to call it in, but the cell phone died.

‘The late afternoon was coming fast, and the boy would be finishing school. We had to try to save him or, if not, then kill the poor boy. As we walked to the car, the silent priest tapped me on the back and pointed to a fresh grave. The soil was upturned. I took a look; it was empty. Now we had dead dark humans on the loose. As for the rest of what we got up to, from the time Michael got on the bus to the time he went to bed, we didn’t stop killing. All of us had to cut a bloody path to rescue the boy. If Father Baker hadn’t come when he did, all would have been lost. Michael would be dead, held hostage, or turned. The hope of all living things would have died as well,’ said Father Gordon, downing the Scotch.

Father Gary looked at Father Gordon in dismay, trying to take in all the information.

‘What of the sea of Derrock?’ asked Father Gary.

‘It has opened. The black tide of Derrock has washed over Detroit,’ Father Gordon said with a tone of anger, clutching the glass tight.

Father Gary rubbed his face. He could not think or feel. He has been trying to avoid this nightmare for years, and now, just the word failed was on his lips.

‘What of the boy’s mind?’ asked Father Gary with his hand on his face.

‘Weak. He has witnessed three people getting slaughtered. He has no idea who he is and the power he possesses and his part in all this mess,’ replied Father Gordon.

‘I guess we will have to tell him after he has rested. One more thing—another skeleton has been sent to us by the guardians. This one is a real firecracker and will be here within the hour,’ said Father Gary.

Father Gordon raised one eyebrow. ‘Did they see this coming?’ Great. One more homicidal maniac to get me into trouble.

‘It’s doubtful. However, you and I know that if Michael turns, not even the best arms in the world could stop him or the arms of heaven,’ said Father Gary grimly. Dead dark humans are going to complicated things most foul, he thinks.

The sound of my feet shuffling up the hall raised their heads, and I appeared, rubbing my neck and yawning, barely keeping my eyes open.

‘Tell me what in the fuck is going on,’ I demanded, my voice soft.

Father Gary got up, put his .45 back inside the jacket. Then he tiptoed through the maze of books. He stood in front of me, took my grandfather gun, slipped it into the pants waistband and said, ‘My son, you are exhausted. What I tell you will fall on deaf ears as you slumber as I talk, yes.’

I nodded unwillingly. Father Gary led me back down the hallway to a wooden door on the right; he opened it. I saw another black-stone room with an iron-colour slate floor, a plane single bed with a nightstand, and a chair by a small window.

‘The skeletons will guard over you tonight, if they ever get out of the shower. And one more thing. The gun, put it under your pillow. Sleeping with it can lead to a nasty accident,’ Father Gary said with a smile.

He left the room, closing the door. I sat on the bed, pulled back the top sheet. With care, I removed Pop’s gun from my pants. I slid it under the pillow and then lay down to sleep. I forgot to take off my clothing.

***

‘Michael, wake up,’ said a deep, seductive voice.

‘Where am I?’

‘In your dream.’

‘Who are you?’

‘A friend whom wishes to meet you.’

‘Why?’

‘You have something I want.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t tell you. Let’s see … ah, yes, there is something you want. I will give her to you just so you have a taste of what gift I can give you, Michael.’

From nothing, the dream was suddenly filled with darkness. A white-curtained stage came into view. I had a front-row seat, the only one in this dark playhouse. Emily appeared on stage wearing the same clothing when I last saw her at school.

‘Yes, Michael, what a treat she is. Look at her dance. Those legs move as if floating on air,’ said the voice.

The buttons on Emily’s shirt exploded; with passion, she ripped the shirt and dress off. Now she was crawling to me in her plain black underwear while smiling and giggling. She stopped at the end of the stage, on her knees. She took the bra off and playfully rubbed her breasts; her nipples are hard. Her light-blue eyes beckon me to come play with her.

‘Ah, Michael, you will not take Emily’s most generous offer?’ said the voice.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Why not? It’s a gift I have allowed you to have. That’s not being very nice now, is it?’ said the voice in a harsh tone.

‘Never take things from strangers, my nana once said to me. Now who are you? And get the fuck out of my head!’ I yelled.

Emily vanished from the stage, and I felt a numbing pain like something was tearing at my skin. Then sheer agony took hold. I let out a blood-curdling scream.

‘I beg you stop this pain!’ I