Johnny arrived right on schedule. The California sun was down and the darkness of night had already come, twilight was shaded by the storm clouds. The rain raged on and the winds had gotten worse. What light there was, was nearly drowned out by the rain. Even Johnny's headlights did little to pierce the darkness. There was definitely a storm on its way and this was just the beginning.
He pulled into a parking space, saying to himself, "I am a man on a mission. God himself has given me more than I can handle, knowing firmly that a marine handles a challenge as a butcher with a cut of meat. Graceful and welcoming of the sight, and ready to work." He then looked at Brunhilda, telling her, "This butcher can barely handle his cleaver anymore, and a raw steak looks more like a plate of hamburger."
In front of his headlights stood a young man with an umbrella and several layers of rain protection waiting for him. Rushing over to his car door, the young man flung it open, asking, "Lieutenant Saber?" He sounded strained and worn, like he had already been through a battle.
Johnny got out of his car as fast as he could, snatching Brunhilda from the passenger seat. He stood tall in the pouring rain and heavy winds. They cut into his skin like razors and the rain beat on him like a wet whip. He remained firm. "Yes, sir," he belted out.
"Jesus, man, can we get inside, please!" the young man begged.
"Aye-aye, sir," Johnny said. He turned on his foot and slammed his car door quickly. It hurt every inch of him, but he was a marine to the core. Even though his body ached and his skeleton felt like it was going to fall out of his body, he still kept his movement precise and his reactions quick.
When inside, the young man peeled back several hoods, saying, "Good lord, it's going to be a bad storm! Gale Christine is going to be worse than they predicted. I hope it doesn't turn back into a hurricane!"
"I didn't hear anything about it," Johnny said.
"Don't know how you didn't, it's been all over the news and my weather report says we might be getting a foot of rain… at least!"
Johnny stayed firm. He didn't have a TV or a cellphone. No point, really. No one called him and there was nothing on TV. He did have a computer and the internet, but hadn't been on it today, busy getting around for his mission. He casually said, "Sounds rough."
"Right!" the man said. "By the way, name's Todd Gaines. I help my family with this warehouse. We offered this year to hold all the toys for Toys-For-Tots. My dad loves the military. I don't see the appeal, but, whatever." He started tapping on his phone, concentrating more on it than Johnny. "Alright, so, all you have to do is guard this stuff till morning. The whole place is yours, not just the toys. The whole warehouse, clear?"
"Yes, sir," Johnny said.
Putting his phone away, Todd said, "Ah, man, you don't have to call me sir, or anything like that. Makes me feel weird."
Johnny looked down and relaxed a little. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just… I haven't had an assignment in a long time and it made me feel better."
Todd shrugged. "It's alright. Look, um, why don't you follow me and I'll show you around."
Johnny and Todd both toured the warehouse. Several, towering shelves held all kinds of boxes and toys. "They donated quite a lot this year," Todd said. "Most of it we needed a jack-truck for. It took five of us to stock two of these shelves alone."
As they walked, Johnny noticed a door that was locked and had a sign:
DANGER—KEEP OUT
He ignored it, seeing more doors like that one and a few larger areas cordoned off by warning tape. He had to ask, "Why are some of these places off-limits?"
"Ah," Todd said, stopping. "Um, my father, well… it all started with my great-grandfather and… no. I'm explaining this badly." Todd looked around and then said, "Follow me."
Johnny did and gripped Brunhilda tightly. He swallowed and said under his breath, "A fair man about to tell me about ugly information and circumstances. Not a job I envy of the young lad. Find strength and courage, for if you do not, I will help you."
They stepped into a small office with a few file cabinets, a steel desk with a computer, and a large cork board with an assortment of keys dangling from it. Todd sat down behind the desk and motioned Johnny to have a seat.
"I prefer to stand, son. It'll help me with what I will need to do."
Todd took a long drag off of an e-cig, but what Johnny smelled was anything but tobacco. The smell took him back to Vietnam and his first unit.
Todd offered it to him, but he declined. Johnny was never a fan of anything that might alter his senses. He wanted to stay sharp at all times.
Todd looked slightly confused. "What? Don't you need something to take the edge off?"
"Negative, Mr. Gaines. I need to help you with what you need to tell me."
After another inhale, and a long exhale, Todd asked, "Oh yeah, and what might that be?"
"That is what I am patiently waiting on. You seem to have something difficult you want to tell me."
A long sigh came from Todd. "Man, please don't call me 'Mr. Gaines!' I'm Todd, just plain Todd, man!"
"Very well," Johnny said.
"God," Todd said, running his hand through his hair. "Man, I told my dad to forget this place. Sell it, leave it, never look back. I suppose he thought if he did something good with it, maybe it would help. I told him the place is just gone, dude. But, oh no, 'we have a family obligation.' 'It's your job now to take care of the place.' Yeah, like I want to be responsible for it!"
"This warehouse seems very well built."
Taking another long drag, Todd looked at Johnny and said, "Yeah, it ain't the construction, man! It's the… the… feeling of the place, you know? Like there is a lot of bad stuff that's happened on this plot of land, man! My dad and granddad, and great-granddad are all proud of it, too. This messed-up history of this place. Like way back when, this town was home to some of the last Indians. They got slaughtered right here. Then, there was, like, the disappearance of a bunch of settlers, no one knows what happened to them. Then, an entire mine got massacred for gold, it's nuts! They said there were, like, monsters in the dark. Monsters, man! Like demons, or something. At first this place was a large pantry, kept bread and flour, and yeast here, right? Like, right after the mine? Well, then, one day, all of it went bad. Like, not just some of it, all of it. An army of plague rats got into the food and the whole town went hungry." Taking a long, nervous drag, Todd shakily said, "My great-granddad kept pictures of the starving children, like who does that?!" Todd took a second to collect his courage. "They even said, one year, during Christmas, back before the Depression, that a big, white, monster came ashore and slaughtered everyone, like it was named the Grit… Grith… Gryphon, or something." Another heavy inhale and exhale. "I'm telling you, man, it's… this place, dude! Something is really wrong here!"
Johnny waited to see if he was going to say anything else. Spreading his legs, putting Brunhilda behind him, he asked Todd, "So what's the problem now?"
Shakily, Todd said, "Ah man, it's bad. We've lost eight security guards in as many weeks."
"Quit?" Johnny asked.
"Some," Todd answered. "Others have just vanished. One night, after me and a bunch of the guys got done unloading some of the toys, the security guard showed up and by morning he was nothing but… but… a puddle."
"Somebody kill him?"
"Yeah, like, gutted him and slit his throat, and, like… forget it, man. I-I-I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Fair enough," Johnny said, understanding it was hard for a civilian to see something like that. "So is that why your father contacted the marines? Needed a steel-for-skin, acid-for-blood-mother to protect his investment?"
"Ask him!" Todd said, angrily. He stood up, taking a bag of something out of the desk and told Johnny, "Look, man, I'm telling you, there is some next-level, creepy shit going on down here. I'm talking some 'Stephen King, built-on-top-of-an-Indian-burial-ground, super hodu shit! I suggest you take that sword of yours there, pack up, and get the hell outta here! Just tell my dad and the corps that you did your job, and bolt like a mountain biker on fire, you know what I'm saying, man?!"
Johnny held up Brunhilda and told Todd, very plainly, "You do not understand a marine's mentality. I appreciate what I think is concern, but I am not 'bolting' from anywhere. A marine does not leave a job half done, a marine does not abandon a mission. Death before dishonor. Semper fi, Todd. Semper fi!"
"What does that mean?!"
"Do you use Bing?" Johnny asked.
"Bing? You use Bing?"
"Yeah, why?"
Shaking his head dismissively, Todd said, "I'm outta here! I hope the other marines don't find 'old man soup' in the morning! Good luck, you crazy bastard! And Merry Christmas!" That was the last Johnny would ever see of Todd.
The old marnie headed out to the floor of the warehouse and took his time, kneeling with Brunhilda across his lap. He wrapped his hands around his saber's scabbard, and felt his old age creeping up on him. His bones brittle, his skin wrinkled, his muscles snapping with pain, like someone had lit fireworks off in his flesh. After it passed, dealing with the overwhelming agony, Johnny did what came natural, what he believed would help him against a rising darkness of supernatural evil. He prayed. "Oh mighty God, king of Heaven, God of Moses, the God of Abraham, of Joseph and Jebadaih, Of John and Mary, God of Earth and stars, of all creation and all marines. Grant this one servant the power to lay waste to his enemies, those who will not be slain by blade or bullet, grant Brunhilda the power and sanctity of your might. Give power to my weapon so that I may protect that which is precious to those that cannot fight, that are less fortunate. To protect the innocent, and all that they possess, for these toys are gifts from the corps, gifts to those who can afford them not. I beg of you, oh mighty, illustrious God, please, give me the strength and will to do my mission. To carry out my sacred duty as a marine… one last time. Amen."
With that, Johnny tried to stand up, but the storm outside raged with lightning, a bright orange lightning as the ground began to shake. Amber light began to well up in the warehouse and knocked Johnny on his back. Cracks snaked their way through the concrete, high pressure steam fissuring out of them, sounding like an evil ringing.
"What the hell?!" Johnny cursed.
"Hell is exactly what you've got!"
