Oh joy, a short chapter! Thank you for the reviews and I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying this.
I appologise for the grammatical mistakes but I suffer from dyslexia and my spell checkers just as bad as I am. I will try to fix them though.
Chapter 5: A twisted angel
Jobe's eyes slowly fluttered open. Clutching his head, he groaned as he rose. He almost smiled when he realized he was in that dingy little ally he'd fallen unconscious in.
'No sign of the Jehovah witness from hell, either!'
This was almost too good to be true. He rubbed his eyes, letting his mind run over that nightmare, if you could call it that. It was so vivid; he could have sworn he'd been there. He let out a laugh at how foolish he'd been, after all, nothing like that could ever happen.
The laugh was cut short when Jobe saw what lay before him and felt his stomach clench.
Where Alessa had stood in the dream was a gigantic burn mark, sprawling over the gravel. Jobe just stared at the black stain; not wanting to believe it was there. It hadn't before. Something glinted at him from the scorched ground and unwillingly, he found him self draw to it.
A rusty steel pipe lay harmlessly on the ground but it was way to familiar for Jobe. He'd seen it only moments before, in the hands of a screaming girl.
'But none of that really happened…'Even the voice of reason was beginning to doubt this. After all, in a town where the dead walked and all the citizens had disappeared, how could you call the appearance of a metal pole odd? With the memory of those dogs fresh in his mind, he quickly snatched the pole from the ground, not wanting his hand to linger near that black mark for too long. There was something else concealed in the darkness. Jobe felt even more uncomfortable when he saw the handgun winking up at him.
He'd never liked guns when he was younger, his father had had one and kept it hidden up in the closet under the towels but Jobe knew it was there. One time his brother took it out, taunting Jobe with it. Jobe had begged him to out it back but his brother merely laughed in his face before racing outside. He was only going to look at it, that's all…
He shot their neighbor's dog by accident. Jobe could remember screaming at his brother while he just stared at the animal that lay motionless at his feet.
Jobe didn't want to but still he took the small firearm, it would probably do more good than the metal pole he held in his other hand. For a minuet, he fumbled with the small weapon before the chamber came off. It was empty, Jobe didn't know if this was a good or bad thing.
Stuffing the weapon into his pocket, Jobe hurried out of the ally and back onto the main street. Still the fog swirled around him in thick clouds, obscuring anything further than a few meters away in a gray veil.
"What now?" He asked the empty air. If he was going to find Phil, he'd need to know where he was going. Didn't he pass a general store on his way into town? They may have had maps there and maybe he'd be able to pick up some ammunition for this gun. Carefully, he slowly made his way down the road, listening out for the padding of clawed feet behind him but the only sound to accompany him was his own footfall.
His foot went down but found nothing. Jobe yelled as his foot sank into the mist, threatening to pull him down as well. With his other foot, he sent himself flying back onto the gravel. For a moment he stood frozen to the spot staring at the road ahead of him. It ended sharply, as if some giant had ripped a huge chunk out. Tentivly, Jobe peeked over the edge, watching as the jagged side ran down into the fog, the occasional pipe jarring out like fractured bones.
"But I just walked down here! That's impossible!"
The gapping chasm just stared back at him. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't.
Well, if he was going to get to that shop, he wasn't going to go this way. Jobe turned around but almost fell to the ground. Searing pain rushed to his head, completely crippling him. He shut his eyes, trying to block it out. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Jobe cautiously opened his eyes.
"Not again."
He found himself kneeling in a small room. There was something lying in front of him, a long knife, stained red. Jobe looked away in disgust from the bloody knife but then he saw the walls. The word 'wrath' was scrawled allover it in furious, large messy writing. He was aware that he wasn't the only person in the room, there was a figure sitting in the corner, concealed by shadow. Jobe began to back away as it lifted up its head and watched him from red eyes. It dragged itself to its feet watching Jobe with an unhealthy interest. Even though he couldn't really make it out from the shadow, he could tell that this human shadow was something more than that thing in the ally. Jobe's back touched the wall; there was no way he was getting out of here. His eyes quickly scanned the room but there was no door or windows.
He could see the things leg's tense before it lunged straight at him, he screamed as he desperately tried to get out of the way of it's out starched, eager fingers.
"ARRRGH!" He sat bolt upright, panting. He was alone again, surrounded by fog.
'What the hell was that, another of those dreams?'Jobe just sat there with his eyes wide open, trying to make sense of it all.
WrathThe word seemed burned into his mind. Did it mean something important? Jobe's head snapped up.
He'd have to put that aside for now. He swore he heard something. There it was again, a slow beat. His eyes scanned the road in front of him but he couldn't see a thing. It was becoming louder now, set to a rhythmical tempo. Jobe felt his fingers tighten around the handle of the gun that rested in his pocket as sweat began building up on his forehead.
It sounded so close, how come he couldn't see it?
'Wait a minuet' The sound wasn't In front of Jobe, it was…
He looked up, bringing the gun up with him as he pointed the pistol at the beast swooping down from the fog.
'Click'
He pulled the trigger but nothing happened. If Jobe had the luxury of time, he would have kicked himself for forgetting there were no bullets in the gun.
The huge flesh/brown blur smacked into Jobe, throwing him off his feet and sent him sailing over the edge of the abyss. He felt the air rush past him as the gapping hole swallowed him up. The last thing he saw was his attacker fly overhead, its flayed wings stretched out.
And then it was gone; everything went black as the twisted angel disappeared into the fog
