A/N: Chapter 30, hopefully a return to form, as of now my plan of the story is at it's finishing stages and I am on the second half near final quarter of drafting. If anyone finds anything odd about it so far or have any gripes, please tell. Thank you - Xkia.
Chapter 30
An oak door had never given me fear, in all of my short life I had never been faced with a red painted door and feared for my life. The lights were off, all of them; it was as if I was staring at a dead house, as if the ghostliness of the town had swallowed it like an invisible fog.
That was not the case and I opened the door swiftly, it held no resistance, caved inwards quickly, and banged against the opposing wall. No one in the house cried out at my suddenness. Even though I was shaking and half paralyzed with fear, I tried to keep a cool head, if I could handle chase after chase from Trent and Eric, I could keep a cool head in this situation. If I could kill Eric, no matter how appalled I was by the notion, I could face madness in the eyes and do it again, for Damien and Kenneth's sake.
The room was mostly dark, the hallway's rug was askew and muddy footsteps trampled to the open door to the basement, a faint, low glow like the starting of an evil fire tried to claw out of the basement and passed the oddly shaped door. Deep, deep down in the belly of the earth I could hear dark murmurs and echoes, reverberating from the upwards walls of the stairway into Lucas's demonic chamber.
"He's actually a psychopath," I finally mumbled to myself, felling realisation and sanity tug itself away from me. The whole scenario was something I couldn't focus on, as if I were trying to see a puzzle made of Euclidian geometry, something so impossible. Impossible yet real at the same time. To keep my mind from wandering I just paid attention to the fact that Damien and Kenneth were in danger, some insane Satanist cult or if it just Lucas and the blond man in their basement didn't matter, it didn't matter at all, it was my friends, my only actual friends. The only people I really cared about.
I physical shook my head, somehow believing that would clear my mind. Then I tried to be as quiet as I could when I moved down the steps.
The stone had been lit by torches, hung on sconces from the fifth step down, looking like the cliché decorations of a gothic film or book like Dracula. Even the walls, I realised, were in fact made of cobblestone, Lucas had actually dug deeper into the walls to accommodate for the slimy looking replacements to be set in.
The murmurs grew louder and I could make out words in them, although they were of a different dialect, ancient Babylonian or perhaps something as equally cliché like Latin or Egyptian, I could not tell and like with many things I did not care in the slightest. I cared of nothing as I descended those steps, nothing but the two captives.
I seemed to reach the end much faster than I thought I would have, and it was not hard to miss the bright glow of the room to my left, hundreds, near to thousands of candles and torches had been lit along the floor, walls and any available shelf space.
It would have been hard for a half-blind man to miss the scene inside. Damien and Kenneth lay strapped to the stone table in the center of the room. Rope blinded their legs, arms and heads; there was cloth in both of their mouths. They led staring upwards. Surrounding them were about three men all in bright red robes, at the head of the table was Lucas in black robes with violet engravings of goats heads and inverted pentagrams. They were all chanting with their heads bowed and daggers in their hands; even though I could not make out their words, I could hear a dark, evil rhythm to their demonic chants.
I laughed; I could not help but laugh, doubling over in utter glee. It was comical, so god damned comical that it horrified me to the point of laughter, they were so... influenced. They looked like they had gotten their ideas out of 'how to be a Satanist for dummies'. I was taking the situation far less seriously then I should have been.
Lucas's head shot up, his eyes wide and no longer crimson; they were now a wide, mad bright blue. His untied, greasy white hear ruffled at the movement and settled in a half discord over his face and shoulders, he was smialing unlike any smile before. He looked as if he was truly happy in the most disgusting way. The others also raised their heads and recoiled in shock at my intrusion, several held their daggers tighter. My laughter stopped, and I thinned my look.
"Ah Phillip!" he said in glee. "The bringer of sin has arrived, my sons!" he exclaimed and the followers all relaxed some. Damien and Kenneth both raised their heads to me, and in the moment that we shared eye contact, I saw hope in Damien, and hopelessness in Kenneth.
The one to Lucas's right took off his hood, showing the blond man who had been watching me in the ford. "Seer, you were correct. Then the time is really at hand!" he sounded like a snake. I nearly laughed at the almost rehearsed sound of all of their speech.
Slowly I aimed the gun up and focused on Lucas's chest. His followers held onto their daggers once more and seemed prepared to do anything to save him; Lucas himself was completely fine with the threat of a gunshot. I felt that he was looking inside me, into my very soul and could see my fear as if it were some infrared aura.
I held back as many stutters and displays of weakness as I could, and I was serious again.
"Just... Just let me and Damian and Kenneth and everyone go, ok? Just let us go... please." I pleaded.
Lucas wiped the hair from his eyes before speaking himself, "well then, you want me to let your friend and my son go?" he began calmly. "Fine then."
The followers all gasped in surprise, "Seer, but we have gotten so far!" the blond man said.
Lucas raised a hand and rested it on the man's head, seeming to calm him with his very touch. "Calm James, it is all part of the Masters plan, he wishes for entertainment, and to spill the blood of the bringer of sin, with the immortal and the son will only bring further power to us and him." He stayed silent and let the words sink into everyone. "BUT!" he shouted before anyone could move, the followers stayed as still as dogs. "We must wait for the next moon to pass, it must be under it! The master says so, so that the vile heathen above can see his world fall!" he ripped his hand from James's head and brought them to his side with a disturbed elegance, like a malformed dancer. "Let the son and the immortal go, the Master is to test us when they stand a chance. We must be true servants."
Either he was truly under the influence of some demon, madness, or truly under the influence of the .45. He was the first to cut the binds from Damien's hands, with a swift, elegant stroke he ran the edge of a kitchen knife over the rope, he cut just deep enough to leave a small scratch on Damien's arm. When the second binding was severed, all of Lucas's followers took a step backwards, leaving a path for Damien to follow.
Speechless, Damien moved to my side, and stayed silent, on my simple request, he turned and sprinted up the stairs, the cult's eight eyes watched him until he was out of view.
Kenneth's unbinding was much less elegant; Lucas roughly cut the rope and heaved him to his feet. In response Kenneth shoved him away and ran to my side, he took the gun from my limp hands, turned, and shot the nearest man in red.
Blood burst from the swift puncture in his chest and he fell on his back without breath.
Kenneth turned and sprinted up the stairs, I followed suit. In a second I heard the other two cultists ramble and shout in anger, I could hear fumbling and crashing and when me and Kenneth were at the top, other people were following up the stairs. Lucas shouted commands of "Don't follow, it's the masters wish!" but whoever was behind us did not listen.
When we reached the top, Kenneth turned, aimed once more and fired. The bullet didn't hit the target though as the tell-tale sound of ricochet informed us, there was only one of the two men in red behind us, and he dropped to the floor as if gravity had doubled. We made our way to ground level without further interruption.
Damien sat on the floor outside, heedless of the snow underneath, and just stared at the empty road. I felt such a pang of hate and unending anger for Lucas, not once had I seen Damien so hopeless, so scared. For the first time in my life, I wanted to kill someone, but not just swift and quickly, no, no, no. I wanted to tear him apart and hear his shrill, pain filled screams. I wanted it to echo and echo for miles and for his throat to shred by the pure agony that I was forcing him through.
I didn't even realise how darkly I was taking until I was at Damien's side, and even at that I still felt an odd wonder at the thoughts of murdering Lucas.
"Hey, come on Damien, get up. We have to go," I calmly said, urging him on with a tug of his jumper.
With no resistance he rose and just silently walked next to me, his head facing the ground, eyes deep in his mind, but he was not thinking. I could tell from the brief glimpse I got that he had gone blank, if I were in his shoes I would have too. I could never imagine being betrayed by someone as close as a father. Then again, I had never had one.
"Take us by the alleys," Kenneth sternly said, glaring back at the house, no one was following. The shot must have scared them off.
I took them without a second word, we did not talk, and all we did was let it sink in.
Lucas had some cult following, presumably satanic, they were going to kill Damien and Kenneth but I managed to get there in time to stop them. They were going to come for us soon, and we needed to grab Karen, and run. Run like there was no tomorrow, because if we were caught, there would not be a tomorrow.
Halfway through our rushed walk, I noticed that my hand was entwined with Damien's, I did not question it, I may have inwardly shuddered, but I did not question it. He needed comfort, much more than what I could give, but it was the best he was going to get, he had no father to turn to.
We were completely voiceless until we got to the apartment, luckily without pursuers, and as soon as I opened the door, Kenneth burst in as fast as light itself, up the stairs and out of sight before I could even blink. He was so fast that his quick form had brought some life into Damien, and he squeezed onto my own palm in some attempt to reassure himself, before I led him slowly up the stairs.
When we reached the second flight he began to talk, "Contacts," he muttered.
"pardon?" I asked,
"Dad was wearing contacts, for... for years I... I couldn't tell, how?"
Shaking my head, I led him once more, "You were used to it, so used that you probably never questioned it."
On the next flight he talked again, "He was going to kill me, wasn't he? He was going to kill me and Kenny," he asked, sounding lost and very much unlike himself.
"Yeah... yeah he was," I simply responded, he needed the truth.
He let go of my grip and sat down on the closest step, I awkwardly followed, he watched the wall as if it contained all of his answers. "Do you know why he was going to stab me and Kenny?" He paused, prying the wall for more information, before softly, and quietly saying, "Said I was the... the Bringer of the End. Huh, my dad thinks I'm the fucking antichrist. That's not true, right?"
I looked at him as a Christian parent would look when they walk into their child playing Dungeons and Dragons, as if he was mental. "You're joking, right?"
He did not return the look, the wall held no answers, so he must have thought the floor contained them, "No, I mean... yeah, yeah, I guess, just. It's just, that dad's ill, that he's... not right."
I gave him a tug on the arm and brought him to his feet, "yeah, that's just it, now come on, let's go check on Kenneth."
"Yeah, let's go."
I had forgotten that there were two bodies at the end of my floor, a thing that I should have tried to remember in retrospect, Damien's outburst of "holy shit!" didn't do good to lighten the mood, neither did the blood or the guns.
Bringing Damien to the apartment was probably one of the stupidest ideas I had made, leaving Karen there being a close second and having sex with him a definite third. I was an utter fool, and I was paying for my mistakes by near traumatising my best friend, my friends sister, and I was probably going to break his will when I told him that the previous night was nothing to me. After the scenario would he even be my friend, or would we both end up as corpses to Lucas, the blond man, James and whoever was the thirs?
Like an angry rainstorm in the jungles of South America, he had wept, sitting on my red sofa, with a red face that was only confused, terrified and betrayed. He did not reach out for me, and I kept my distance, I left him to his weeping, left Kenneth to hug and look after Karen, and moved to dispose of the bodies of Trent and Eric.
We had twenty-four hours, if Lucas were so inclined to keep his word, and to have stinking corpses messing up our hidey-hole would only make us queasy and have us at a disadvantage. I was still acting like a heartless bastard, I told myself, but instead of rectifying that, I dragged the body of Trent to the stairs. People were easier to push around when dead, I found out, if I had descended to any more heartlessness I might have mocked the bodies, but I did not want to stop so low to something like the people who I dragged.
In half an hour Trent was hidden behind the always-unlocked door to the apartment building's boiler room, another forty-five minutes and his partner in death joined him. As carefully as I could, I laid them down next to each other, even going as far as to unconsciously place both of Eric's hands over his chest. I found my sympathy for him to be strange.
Damien met me half way up the stairs, and embraced me in a large, shivering hug; I kept my arms to my side and allowed him to calm down on my still form. He had love in his eyes, but I had none, I was just still and silent.
"You're different," he muttered.
Bewildered, I asked, "What do you mean?" and he let go of me, staring sadly into my eyes.
"You're just different, you're silent... stone, you're like stone."
With a shrug of my shoulders, I said, "When was I ever talkative?"
"You're still different. But I love you, and I'm sorry." I flinched at his words but he did not notice.
"You're sorry?"
"If I hadn't have become friends with you, then you wouldn't have gotten in this mess."
I smiled at him, "I'd still be in this mess, only you and Kenneth would be dead and I'd have more bruises."
If times were not so dire, he would have smiled back, "yeah, and last night," he muttered, "Let's go back up." I felt a headache at his mention of the encounter, he remembered and did not regret. He had actually been sincere about his feelings. If only I had known before hand, I could have shot it down weeks ago, or even just the previous night, and only have one problem on my hands. No, I would have needed to shoot it down weeks before, last night was irreversible, and I could have never changed it unless given much more time. But if I had much more time I would have just tried to kill Lucas and live with jail time. At least I wouldn't have to break Damien's heart.
'When had we switched places to him being the fragile one?' I asked myself, but gave no answer.
I moved behind him, in single file, up the stairway and into my apartment. Kenneth had sat himself in the living room, Karen sleeping on his lap, and he had the shotgun leaning against his leg, as a thing of comfort.
"Pip, call the cops, we're idiots." He simply said, grinning like he'd just won the world's most dangerous game, and at the time, we were playing it.
It took me a second to realise, "Oh my god, we are." The police may have not been in South Park itself, but 911 directed us to the county station, the county station was in North Park, not South, there was only a small police station in South Park. One telephone call and we would have cops ready to help. We had found the killers and they were obliged to help.
Nearly laughing, I dialled the number, it rang once, twice, and then it was picked up. I could almost feel tears of happiness when I heard the voice.
"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency," said Mark, how and why he was in north park wasn't a matter, I was in contact with someone I actually somewhat knew.
"God, Mark, help, bloody hell, help." Damien looked up at my words, he was smiling as well, not sadly, he was genuinely happy, and I felt a similar glee.
"Pip?" he asked. "Pip, is that you, thank fucking hell then, got here in time."
I paused, "got here in time?"
"Yeah," he let out a long sigh, "a second too late and you would have got to North Park, then we'd be fucked as all hell."
"What's wrong?" Damien asked when he noticed the despair in my eyes.
"Yeah," Mark said, "Lucas, hell yeah, right again, I knew he was. Fuck kid; thank the unholy one that you're so slow." I could almost hear his grin, and his rehearsed tone wasn't helping. "One day until we prove ourselves to the master, say goodbye you little shit." Somehow, he had managed to find some way to get in the way of South Parks emergency phone calls, probably using equipment from the police station.
I was at the absolute end of my strings, and when he hung up, I had fallen off.
"God fucking DAMN IT," I shouted. "DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT. DAMN THAT FUCKER. THAT GOD DAMNED MOTHER FUCKER." I screamed at the top of my lungs, before simply seething in red hot, boiling rage. Damien and Kenneth were wide eyed, and Karen was terrified.
"So... the police are a no go?" Kenneth asked, smiling falsely, I was not falling for it, now of all the times.
"No." I harshly stated, trying to calm down."No. It was Mark, and Mark's one of them." I broke then, I fell to the floor hid my red face from the world and just pathetically pleaded, "What are we going to do now?"
