The Appetite

By Damon McLemore

Shortly after the long-awaited "second coming" messianic prophecy, Paul "Roeh" Ross awakens to a world of ruins. With a third of the population vanished, the diminished sunlight, and his heightened mental and physical abilities, he's assured this is not the world of old. Unbeknownst to him, he and his trusted ax have been chosen as the key weapon of the world's sustainer to maintain balance.

In the underworld, Gehenna, Arthur "Baqa" Lorton is a high-ranking ruler. He's a supercharged evil spirit that has been given new life topside of the surface. Fueled by the dark order in his previous origin, he finds comfort in his newly commandeered body. All that are slain by his hand are forced to serve him. In hopes to claim this new world as his own, he sets out to kill and build his army of dead soldiers.

When Paul is given assignment to release a certain group of captured souls through prayer, he's also given the order to kill several others and return their spirits to the pit. Among those to be killed is Arthur Lorton. Outside Paul's trusted ax, his only chance to survive Lorton and the underworld's throne-holding members is hoping his prayers can be heard in the deepest levels of Gehenna.

A tale of supernatural battles and chaos in one instant, and spiritual insight and destiny in another. The Appetite is a quick and entertaining read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781684984947

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

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The Appetite

Damon McLemore

Copyright © 2023 Damon McLemore

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 978-1-68498-493-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68498-494-7 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

I thank my God for my mother, Tasha Williams, and for those He's placed in my life to help support my vision.

Prologue

He was the head of an army that consisted of mere everyday people. They were simple merchants, scholars, and teachers. They were shop workers, plumbers, doctors, and mechanics. Simple, ordinary.

In a smock and sandals, Paul led soldiers that had no training and were scared shitless by the echoing sounds that came from the other side of the small mountain. Yet they became sincerely receptive to the idea of defending their land against the heathens who had all intentions on destroying their homes, murdering their children, and doing unthinkable acts to their female spouses. Based on the wailing war cries coming a short distance from them, the small army of a couple hundred knew they were significantly smaller in number. Instead of sitting, waiting for their own slaughter, Paul led his troops to the edge of their town, to the bottom of the mountain, to impede their enemies' march.

Their shoes and clothes were dusty from the long walk in dirt and gravel. Paul held a sword, a gift from his grandfather, and was told he'd know when the time came for him to use it. Everyone else came with weapons that were found around their homes. Shovels, bats, butcher knives, scythes—they were as prepared as they were going to be.

A gust of wind, so strong that several people lost their balance, came from the direction behind them. They turned shielding their eyes from the dirt and rock debris, then marveled at the being before them. The retreating sun made the twenty-foot being's clothes glow in the darkening area. They were in awe of his crisp white wings, wings that each stretched out to twelve cubits with distinct grappling claws at the tips of them.

All traces of the sun were now gone, and a sudden clap of thunder cracked the sky. Lightning struck the ground and spread fire to just about every bit of foliage in the area.

Paul approached the twenty-foot being clutching his sword, reasonably apprehensive, then boldly asked, What business do you have here?

In a loud, deep, and soothing voice, the twenty-foot man said, I am the Angel of War. I am an ally. Do not fear me.

The angel's sword and helmet were cast down from above and landed fairly close to them with a thudding sound. He reached and collected his twelve-foot double-edged sword, then grabbed his helmet from the two men strong enough to lift it to him. All visibility came from the many small fires around them. The angel Michael looked to the sky and watched as two bolts of lightning collided with one another. The loud thunder roll was the clear message Michael had been waiting for. He looked down to Paul. It's time. You and I will lead this attack. Do not be surprised when you feel your new strength.

Paul nodded slowly, fiercely gripped his sword, and turned toward his troops. For our families, our homes, and our businesses! Make them regret the very thought of coming to our lands!

Yeah! the small army roared back.

We will take the fight to them! On my charge! Paul turned back to Michael. We're ready.

Michael squatted and solemnly said, Come. He struck out in a full sprint with Paul following closely behind. Michael leaped, taking to the air, and soared clear over the mountain.

It was unknown to Paul why he felt he could make the jump, but he followed suit and leaped. The way the wind ripped through his free-flowing hair gave him the nonpareil feeling of flying. As he cleared the mountain, he peered down noticing that he was floating right over the large army that had come to kill and plunder his town. Paul landed. His wind was unfazed by the sprinting and jumping. He continued his sprint with Michael. Why are we still running? The fight is back there!

Michael looked back over his shoulder. The true fight is never with people.

They continued their run through the night until Paul got a view of what they were running toward. Two prominent shadows looked to be taking a stance, preparing for an attack. The smaller of the two shadow-like figures was a beast with two horns similar to a lamb's. Its fifteen-foot figure was breathing fire from its nostrils. Michael was very familiar with the beast and told Paul, This is the beast of the earth.

Lightning struck in the lowly hovering clouds above them, momentarily illuminating the entire area. Still, it didn't help Paul get a better view of the figures. Even in the light, the two figures seemed nothing more than shadows. The first and smaller of the two rushed right for Paul and Michael, its figure gaining speed with each step.

Paul nervously planted his feet. He was terror-stricken but didn't run.

What kinda defense am I supposed to put up against this?

Just before Paul was gored, Michael lunged toward it. He locked both hands around each of its horns and planted his right foot behind him to stop the beast's momentum. He screamed to Paul, Now!

Paul didn't understand. He knew in his heart that his four-foot blade would only enrage the beast.

I said now!

Without another thought, Paul leaped wielding his sword at the neck of the beast. As his sword was being wielded down, its shadow had grown in width and length, and Paul was able to make a strike that showed significance.

The earth beast yelped, its loud cry sending fire and smoke in every direction. Once Michael released the beast's horn, it slumped to the ground. He then turned to the second beast. Michael slowly pulled his mighty sword from its sheath. It was the same mighty sword that injured one of the seven heads on the beast on their last meet. It was just as Michael remembered it. The beast's feet were still like bear claws. Its seven heads owned seven horns, and its large powerful mouths were all similar to a lion's.

This nearly thirty-foot shadow was agile like a leopard. It had many car-like attributes but had serpent-like swaying movements, and its tongues hissed in a conflicting rhythm. Its small wings flapped as it grew closer. Even as a shadow, its healed wound was noticeable.

Michael took a battle stance with the tip of his sword pointing upright above his shoulder and his left foot forward. I've been anticipating our next meet. The beast responded by rising up on its hind legs like a bear would to intimidate. Its stature gained another ten feet. Michael turned to Paul. You've slain your beast! Now you must return to your army! They need your help to—

But this beast must be twice the size of the last! Paul shouted.

There is a dragon here! Its sole purpose for coming is to kill the woman and child. You have to save them. Go now! At that very instant, the beast rushed Michael. Its claw and two poisoned bites barely missed his chest and face.

What woman and child?

Paul! Go before it's too late!

Paul turned back toward the mountain running full speed toward the rear of the enemy army, fighting and slicing his way to his own soldiers. He killed all he came across until he got to his troops.

He'd taken in the scene in several quick glances. There were very few casualties. Surprisingly they were holding their own ground, refusing to be separated and scattered from their mini groups of tens and twenties. They were fighting for each other. They were holding the line as they discussed they would.

Paul finally spotted the dragon. He held his sword with a quickened pulse, studying its blade and in wonder of its hidden power. Just moments ago it had grown two and a half times its size when the moment came to strike a blow. He wondered of himself as well. Earlier he had moved faster than a sprinting cheetah, leaping like no animal he'd ever known.

He squatted low and took to the air with a tremendous leap. He hovered over the fabulous dragon with his sword held high above his own head. Aaahhh! Before Paul had a chance to wield his sword down on the dragon's head, the dragon spun and knocked him out of the air with its long dry leathery wing. He was helped to his feet by a member of his tired growing army. He was then pointed to the direction of the west hill.

The woman and child are there. Get them as far away from here as you can. We can manage.

Paul nodded trustingly to the reassuring look the older man gave him. He slid his sword back in its sheath then dashed toward the hill. His new power and speed allowed him to close the half mile gap in seconds.

He reached the first wooden cabin he saw and burst through the front door. Inside there was hardly any room to take a step. Wall to tattered wall children were huddled on the floor; women were comforting and nursing the youngest of them. Priests and pastors were praying feverishly.

The woman and child, where are they? Paul was talking to the elder who had gotten up from his knees in prayer.

"He said you'd soon be here for them, the elder said while appraising Paul. He pointed. The child is in the first room. The woman however…"

Is she alive?

We couldn't know. She fled hours ago. But you must get the child to the next town as soon as possible.

I will go with them and— A female voice interjected.

No, Paul flatly answered. I don't want for any tagalongs.

The woman emerged and approached Paul with her head down. But how will you care for the child? What will you feed him? Are you sure you can ma—

And you would leave your own child so that you could tend to another's? Paul questioned with disdain.

Without a stammer, she answered, "I only wish to see the prophecy fulfilled. The child is to represent His saved and redeemed generation. I will do my part in seeing this through."

He studied the woman who kept her head down. At first glance she seemed serene, her hands folded in front of her, her head slightly tilted and avoiding eye contact. But Paul could tell this woman was anxious. No. Desperate better describes it, he thought. Yet and still, she had a valid point. He wasn't prepared to take care of a child so small and young. She kneeled and in a moment's time fixed a strap on Paul's sandal.

Fine. Hurry and grab the child, he ordered.

She hurried to the first room, where she heard the elder say the child was being kept. Once inside she stood over the child's bassinet. So this is where they've—

Do you not understand that we are in a hurry?

Startled, the woman looked over her shoulder to see Paul standing in the doorway. Yes, I understand. I was only making sure that he wasn't soiled.

Come now or stay.

She hastily wrapped the child in several blankets and walked out the door past Paul with her head down. As she made her way past him, Paul was able to get a good view of the child's face. Soft brown eyes, soft curly hair. There seemed to be nothing significant with the very small child. Truth be told, he was the same as all the others Paul had seen. Paul nodded to the elder as he, the woman, and child exited the rickety door of the cabin.

The next town is this way, the woman said. And without second guess, the trio headed south.

Quiet footsteps fell. After more than an hour of walking in silence, it shocked Paul that the woman had not grown tired. Even while carrying a child, she hadn't slowed pace in uneven, rocky uphill terrain. He glanced over at her. Are you…doing fine? Noticing how tightly she held the child to her chest made him think how much of a caring nurturer she must've been.

Perhaps a bit of fresh water? After keeping her head down the entire time she'd been in his presence, she'd finally looked up at him. For the child as well?

He swept his open hand and arm in a gesturing motion. And do you see any free-flowing fresh water in the area?

She was once again staring to the ground beneath her battered sandals. There is a small market…in a few more minutes of walking on this path. All we will need to do is go down this hill.

Even in the dark and more than a half mile off, his new and improved vision allowed him to read the Closed sign on the market's window. The market is not opened.

How do you… Her voice trailed off. She glanced up once again before fixing her eyes back on the ground. Surely you could retrieve some bread and water even so. It wouldn't be much trouble to—

I'm not a thief.

All that matters is survival, she argued. If not for me, then for the child.

And while I'm inside misappropriating wares, anything can happen. Paul thought back to the shadow creatures and dragon he'd just seen. Anyone or anything searching for the child could—

We will hide close by. The town is still a bit far off, and I will protect this child with my life.

Fine, Paul stubbornly said. There is a wagon with a canopy overhead. It sits just across the road from the small market. You will lie down with the child inside until I return.

The woman graciously nodded. Perfectly understood.

After close to ten more minutes of walking in the wilderness, Paul was scanning once more to be sure no one was on their trail or in the immediate area. The night was still. The dog heard barking was about a quarter mile away according to Paul's projection. The farm where that particular market got its goods from was about double that distance. There was a vehicle coming down the road, but by the time it made it to where they were, he planned to be back with the retrieved goods with time to spare. Satisfied with the sweep of the area he'd done, he helped the woman and child inside the wheel-busted wagon. There isn't anything or anyone within a thousand feet. I'll be back in two minutes.

Okay. She laid down with the child as she was instructed but peeked up to watch him leave.

Paul turned away and in one hop, clearing the dirt road, landed at the front door's entrance. He hadn't heard the child cry since he arrived at the cabin. But now its wailing cry made him stop and turn around. Over the child's cry, he could hear the transformation of the woman. Her rows of teeth slicked from her gums, so many teeth her mouth barely big enough to accommodate them. Her nails grew three times the length of her new teeth. He drew his sword and leaped. Ahhh! His loud cry was no help for the child. The tiny wagon rocked back and forth, and blood was seen painting the wagon's inside before his sword even had a chance to penetrate the tent. It seemed to him that time had slowed for an instant. It was like the sand in the hourglass was suddenly moving one grain at a time. Nooo! was all he could yell. Yell was all could do.

Chapter 1

For both prophet and priest are profane yea, in my house have I found their wickedness, saith Ahayah… How long shall this be in the heart of the prophets that prophesy lies? yea, they are prophets of the deceit of their own heart which think to cause my people to forget my name by their dreams Which they tell every man to his neighbor, as their fathers have forgotten my name for Baal. (Jer. 23:11, 26–27)

His eyes popped open from his adventurous dream. His light sweat had dampened his T-shirt and bed sheets. His dream a remnant of a past story that he was racking his brain to remember.

Revelations?

Trish…baby, he said, rolling over on his back. He was glad to have someone to share his bizarre dream with. Since Trish was such a churchgoing woman, maybe she'd have some insight on what it all meant, if it meant anything at all. He reached over to where his sleeping beauty should've been. The other side of his California king was stiff and cold.

He sat up in his bed and looked toward the master bedroom's bathroom. The door was open, and it was pitch-black inside. Trish's smartphone was still on the nightstand, which meant she hadn't gone too far. It was the one thing she never left home without, that and her unlimited titanium credit card.

While rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his feet found his house shoes. Trish! Paul was making his way down the hallway stopping to open every door he passed. Junior? Miran! He opened the door to his sons' room.

Empty.

He made his way down the creaking staircase hoping to see his beautiful children waiting on the breakfast his wife was preparing. But the kitchen was just as empty as every other room in the house. He checked the garage; the cars were still parked. He figured he would've heard the garage open anyhow. The chain was still fastened to the lock on the front door. They hadn't left out of the front either. In fact, nothing looked different in any way. Nothing seemed moved or out of place from the night before.

Waking to an empty house after falling asleep with a home full of family was hard for him to digest. His wife of four years, who birthed and nursed his two sons, who loved him dearly, who had fallen asleep in his arms the night before, was gone. It just wasn't making sense. They hadn't left out of the front door, or garage, and he knew they hadn't climbed out of the window. Even if they had, the alarm system would've announced an open window. The alarm was still set as well.

He walked into the kitchen to the refrigerator that his wife used as a message board. A Don't be left behind newsletter from her church was underneath one of the many magnets. Paul remembered Trish telling him that Ahayah would come like