Purgatory: Ghoul: Part One Page 3

  “Hello?” he called out, searching for something to grab onto. Something to look at besides the gray. He kept moving forward, his footsteps kept kicking up even more ash. He looked behind him to see a trail of footprints left in the three-inch-deep layer.

  “Cameron!” he heard someone cry out. He moved toward the sound. “Cameron!” The voice sounded familiar. He moved a bit faster, though he felt like he was trying to run through mud.

  “Cameron, I’m here.” It was the voice of his little sister, Stacey. She was half buried in the ash. She was waving her hands about, trying to flag him down. Now that Cameron saw her, she looked gaunt. He helped her stand up. Something was wrong with her. She got to her feet, and he saw she was stooped over, and her jaw was elongated.

  “What in the Hell is going on?”

  Stacey smiled a wicked, evil smile. Then she pointed away from her. Cameron followed her finger, which was capped by a dirty claw. He saw on the ground a thick rim of red that he hadn’t before. It looked like something was making the stone and asphalt glow. He moved a little closer to see a thick billowing cloud shooting up from a hole in the ground. Something moved towards him. It was the same figure that had attacked him in the basement.

  “So good of you to join us, Cameron. You have done a wonderful job. Freeing the Master.”

  Cameron looked up at the rising column. It took on a visage of something quasi-human. It opened its mouth, and a molten heat hit Cameron as the thing screamed his name.

  “Damn it, boy, wake up!” Doyle shouted at Cameron.

  Cameron’s eyes popped open, and he tried to sit upright. He wished he hadn’t. The move made his shoulder protest in pain. He groaned and looked around. He was surrounded by five people. Two women, one with dark brown hair and wearing all black except for a white lab coat on over her clothes. She pushed at a pair of glasses and smiled. “Glad to see you are awake.” The other woman was six feet tall, with close-cropped blond hair that looked like a severe form of a pixie cut. She gave him a smile and nod, then turned and walked away. There was Doyle, who moved away when he saw that Cameron was awake, pulling on a cigarette and smiling. “Told you he’d wake up.”

  One man was thin and gaunt, his face plain and eyes were magnified by thick Coke bottle-like glasses. He had on a priest collar and a tight smile. “God has given us a small miracle.”

  “Fuck God,” Doyle said.

  “Father Archibald, that’s blasphemy!” the priest said, turning around to look at Doyle.

  Doyle is a priest?

  The last guy leaned in a bit closer to Cameron. He stank of weed and had a three-day growth of beard. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Those two love to get into it often. Name’s Henry, what’s yours?” He stuck his hand out and pumped Cameron’s.

  Cameron wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the pain from his shoulder. “What is… the name’s Cameron.”

  “Glad to meet ya,” Henry said. He pointed to the priest who was starting to yell at Doyle. “That is Father Benedict. Nice guy, but a bit, well… Catholic.” He pointed to the blonde who was holding a length of wood and moving around in what had to be some kind of fighting form. “That Amazon is Helga. A bit on the quiet side. But a great woman and warrior. And that,” he said pointing to the woman in the lab coat. “That is Maggie. Welcome to the Order of Heretics.”

  “The what?”

  Henry smiled as though he knew the question was coming. “The Order of Heretics. Though, I prefer my own name for us. The Heretics”

  “Oh, come now, Henry, don’t fill his head with silliness,” Maggie said. She was at a makeshift desk, a wooden door being held up by cinderblocks. And it looked a bit uneven.

  “Come on, doll. He has to know.”

  “I still think he shouldn’t get into this,” Maggie said.

  Doyle turned from his fight with Father Benedict. “Mags, he fought against Thomas. Has been attacked by Thomas. He is deep in the shit now.”

  “Language,” Father Benedict said with a small gasp.

  “And fuck you too,” Doyle said, looking at Benedict and smiling. Then he patted the near-apoplectic priest on the shoulder, turned, and walked out the door.

  From where Cameron sat, he saw it was almost evening. “Dammit, I have to get home. My family will be worried-”

  “Wait a sec there, slugger,” Henry said, holding his hands out to stop Cameron from getting up. Cameron didn’t and then fell to the ground, boneless.

  “What, what is going-”

  “The stuff Mags and Helga used on you. Stinks to high heaven, numbs the body, and leaves you weak for a while. But it did save you from the taint of Thomas.”

  “That ghoul?”

  “Yah,” Henry said. “He’s a major thorn in the Heretics’ side.”

  Cameron, with the help of Henry, got back down onto the makeshift bed, which turned out to be another wooden door propped up using wooden barricades. “Okay, can you explain why you call yourselves the Heretics?”

  “Well, you know how the Church doesn’t think anything supernatural happens… anymore,” Henry said, holding a hand to keep Benedict from chiming in.

  “Yeah, but they use to believe they did,” Cameron said.

  “Well, yeah. But, now ghosts and the like are almost impossible to be credited. Hell, they took their sweet time with Mother Teresa.”

  Benedict looked as though he had bitten into a lemon.

  “Anyway… we know for a fact that shades, ghosts, wraiths, and all kinds of other nasty things exist. And do more than go bump in the night.”

  “So, you guys fight them?”

  “As best we can,” Henry said with a grin.

  Just then, Doyle rushed back inside, slamming the door. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “What?” Henry and Maggie both shouted at the same time. Cameron saw Henry’s hand go to his belt, where he saw the grip of an automatic pistol.

  “Thomas is outside. And he has a white flag.”

  “A what?” Everyone said. Except Helga. Cameron heard the wooden sword drop. He turned to see her grab a real, long, two-handed sword and walk towards the door.

  “He has a white flag, can’t go out like that,” Doyle said while stepping towards Helga, touching her arm.

  Helga glared at Doyle. For a moment Cameron thought she would cut him down.

  “Flag of truce. You can’t break something like that,” Doyle said.

  Helga nodded, sat the sword back in its stand with a loving touch, and turned back to wait for the rest of them to do something.

  Henry and Maggie both went to the door, and Maggie saw that Henry was behind her. Cameron noticed how she stepped away and sneered at him. Henry looked like he wanted to say something, then looked outside and shook his head.

  “I think he wants to speak to Cameron,” Henry said.

  “Why do you say that?” Cameron asked.

  Cameron felt some feeling coming back to his legs and moved unsteadily towards the door. He saw Thomas, along with three other ghouls. He held a banner of white in one hand, and in the other, he held Michelle. Cameron was almost to the door. Henry stopped him with a gesture.

  “Cameron, don’t go out there. You aren’t warded. He could-”

  “I’ll keep the truce, as long as I can talk to the young Hunt,” Thomas said, his voice causing a chill to run up Cameron’s back.

  “Don’t trust this thing,” Doyle said.

  Thomas gave a hacking cough and laughed. “Shut up, old man.”

  Doyle blanched when Thomas said that, but he kept quiet, sat down, and started to smoke again.

  “What do you want?” Cameron asked from the doorway.

  “I want you, Cameron. I want that sweet meat and soul inside you. But, I will settle for her if I must.” Thomas moved his thumb that held Michelle, and Cameron saw the thick nail slice into Michelle’s arm. He had never seen a ghost bleed. It was a pale pink that glowed very slightly.

  “Stop. There has to be something else…”

  Thomas stopp
ed. He looked at Cameron. “Oh, there are several ways for this to end. Have any dreams recently?”

  Cameron closed his jaws with a click.

  “Cameron, what is he talking about?” Henry asked. He grabbed Cameron and spun him enough to look him in the face. “What is he talking about?”

  Thomas laughed. Then he let go of Michelle. “Good. The little Dreamer is dreaming… this little tramp isn’t even worth the energy to kill.” Once she was released, Michelle quickly disappeared.

  Cameron tried to call out to her, but he was stopped by Henry. “Don’t say anything else.” He then slammed the door closed as Thomas and his ghouls started to move away.

  “What was that about a dream?” Maggie asked.

  “Before Doyle screamed at me to wake up, I had a dream. I was in this rain of ash. Ash was everywhere. And then my sister was there,” Cameron explained and continued relating his dream. When he finished, they were all solemn. “What did he mean by Master?” Cameron asked, looking at Henry and then Maggie and Doyle.

  “No idea,” Henry said. He kicked at a table and sent it flying across the room. “Shit! Dammit. That prophecy was right.”

  “What prophecy?”

  Maggie touched Cameron’s hand. “There is a prophecy that talks about spirits regaining the ability to walk amongst the living and that a great rain of ash would herald it. And then the spirits would control the world.”

  “Could control the world,” Henry said. “If the Dreamer doesn’t awaken.”

  “Your Aramaic is fucking awful, Henry,” Maggie said. “I don’t trust your translation farther than I can throw you.”

  Cameron backed away from the venom in her voice.

  “Sounds like Revelations,” Benedict said.

  “That book is nothing but-”

  Benedict rounded on Doyle before he could finish. “Do not speak of the good book like that!” The amount of anger and power in Benedict’s voice caused Cameron to literally freeze. He noticed everyone had stopped dead in their tracks, quivering. After a moment, the effect passed.

  “No fair using that,” Doyle said.

  “What?” Cameron asked.

  “Father Benedict has a way of speaking. He can command people at times, if he puts enough will into it,” Maggie said.

  “The voice of-”

  “This ain’t a twisted comic, Father,” Henry said. He looked back at Cameron. “All of us have some kind of gift. Helga is able to wield that enchanted sword. Mags and Doyle have a head for a touch of magic here and there. Benedict… well, you heard.”

  “And what can you do?”

  Henry smiled and touched the gun at his waist. “I’m the pretty one that can shoot.”

  “Of course,” Cameron said. He smiled at Henry, who gave him a wink back. Cameron then remembered what time it was. “Shit, I have to get home. I have to tell-”

  “Whoa, whoa there. You can’t tell your family” Henry said. “And you might as well stay here. There is no way Thomas won’t follow you back home. You are unwarded there.”

  “I can’t just leave my family,” Cameron said.

  “You have to,” Maggie said. “You can’t pull them into this. They aren’t gifted like us. And we can barely handle what is going on.”

  “Boy, come here,” Doyle said. Cameron walked over and took a seat when Doyle pointed to a stiff folding chair. Doyle looked at Maggie and Henry. “They are just going to worry and worry. Benedict, well, he is just a worrywart so…” Doyle cut Benedict a look, who frowned at the old man and then went back to reading his Bible. “And Helga, well, she doesn’t have much to say about anything.” Helga stopped long enough to grunt and then went right back into the fighting form she was practicing. Doyle pulled a small stone and a metal compass from his pocket.

  “Doyle, you can’t-”

  “Mags, let your grandfather do what he does,” Henry said. He reached for her hand, but she pushed it away and went back to her workstation.

  Henry sighed, then walked off towards a corner of the warehouse.

  “What are these?”

  “These are things you can use to get home. At least for the night. And say goodbye to your family.”

  “I can’t, I have—”

  “You have to. It’s the only way,” Doyle said.

  “But I’m just a kid.”

  “A kid who can see ghosts and is a Dreamer. You are much more than just a kid.” Doyle placed the round smooth stone in Cameron’s hand. “This is a warding stone. It will protect you for about twenty-four hours. And this little beauty will point towards any ghoul or maligned thing that is within twenty yards of you.”

  “How am I supposed to get home? I left my car-”

  “I’ll give you a ride,” Doyle said. He turned to Helga. “Blondie, you coming?”

  Cameron saw Helga smile, put down the wooden sword she was using, and take up the metal sword again. It glinted in the light more than just reflecting, Cameron thought. She then pulled on a coat that had something twinkling in the inside lining.

  “Coat is made of chainmail, the outside looks like a normal trench coat. Blondie doesn’t like to walk around without some kind of armor.”

  “Why?”

  Doyle looked at Helga, who just shrugged. “Not my place to say,” Doyle said.

  “Okay…”

  The car trip was a quiet one. Cameron was still stunned by what had happened. He was still taking it all in.

  “I know it is a lot to process right now. But, trust me, this is for the best.”

  “How am I going to leave them? They are all I know.”

  “You’re a smart boy, you’ll think of something,” Doyle said with a grin.

  He was back home, and he was thankful. Doyle gave him a few last minute instructions then took off. Cameron felt the day drag on him. His shoulder hurt from where Thomas had cut him and then Helga and Maggie had used the strange poultice on him. The stink of it was only now starting to wear off, and he could almost hear his bed calling.

  He felt a yawn crack his jaws, and he didn’t even try to stifle it. He pushed open the back door, glad he had a key that worked. He was about to sneak upstairs when he saw the small form of Stacey waiting for him, a book in hand with a flashlight.

  “What are you doing up?’ Cameron asked.

  “Waiting for you, brother.” She looked up at him with a firm set to her jaw. “You were supposed to be home hours ago. Where have you been?” She put the book down and sat stiff and straight, staring at him with big brown eyes.

  “Out,” Cameron said. He wanted to tell her, but he was sure that it would cause problems, as the Heretics had said. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Look, sis, I’m fine.”

  “Uh huh, what is that smell?”

  He looked at his shoulder and winced. “I hurt my shoulder, friend of mine patched me up.”

  “Let me see,” she said with a much put-upon sigh. She didn’t take “no” for an answer, dragging him to a spot at the table and pulling his shirt away from the gauze. “Well, looks like whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

  “Well, yeah, she is a doctor. I mean-”

  “Who is this friend?” Stacey asked, hands on her hips. “How come I only am now hearing about her?”

  “Geez, just someone I met today.”

  “And she is already a friend?”

  “You’re not my mom.”

  Stacy stopped moving for a moment. “I know,” she said in a measured monotone voice. “If mom were around, you’d have been back instead of ‘out’ and with some stranger who… who…”

  Cameron looked up at Stacey, even in the poor light he saw her face was shiny. “Hey, sis come here.” He pulled her close even though she resisted at first. “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best.”

  “You’re a jerk,” she said, punching him in the shoulder.

  “Ow! Okay.”

  “So,” she asked with a sniff. “Who is this ‘friend’?”

  “Well,” Cameron said wi
th a small smile. “Her name is Maggie, she’s pretty, and has a wonderful… head full of knowledge.”

  Stacey slapped Cameron upside the head, though there wasn’t much force to it.

  “Easy, sis. What was that for?”

  “Having impure thoughts,” she teased. She then went to the cupboard and came out with a white paper plate and a can of cat food. “Could you feed Madge? I promised her you would feed her when you got home.”

  “Ugh, why? Can’t you-”

  She looked up at him as he tried to push the can away. She sniffed a little. “I was so worried about you, bro. I didn’t have time to think about feeding Madge. And I was waiting for you and she was yowling and… and…”

  Cameron sighed and dropped a hand onto her head. She looked at her brother with a bit of anger. Cameron wanted to tell her right then. About everything. From the Heretics, to Thomas, to Michelle and the weirdness… with everything. He wanted to, but then he thought of what Maggie had said. And what Doyle said in the car ride home. “Your family will become targets if they know. Better to keep them in the dark… better they think you are an asshole than some savior. Run off tomorrow, and just let them think you are a jerk.”

  “All right, I’ll feed the cat.”

  “Thank you,” Stacey said, clapping her hands once and then grabbing her book. “And, when you are done, you can finish reading me my bedtime story.”

  “You’re twelve-years-old, Stace, when are you-”

  “Never.” She ignored his protest and walked up the kitchen stairs to her room.

  Cameron groaned, shook his head and turned around to go outside. He found Madge, the black alley cat that had quasi-adopted them, waiting with a dead bird in her mouth. She yowled at him, dropped it, and looked at him expectantly. Then at the bird. Then at Cameron again.

  “I know, thank you for the gift.”

  Madge turned her head up, walked a few feet away, and settled on the step. Her black ears perked and turned towards him when the can was popped open. Cameron dumped the smelly contents onto the plate and offered it to her.