Jack County Demons (11 page)

"How long
till we get eyes in the sky again?" Commander Jacobs asked. The Control Room was bustling once more. The team had slept some, and with this new information, and a hunch from Jacobs, they were ready to attempt a solution.

"An hour, maybe two," Agent Tomohiko said. "I'm on it. I have
OPS working on it as we speak."

"Good," Jacobs responds. "Any word from the boys
?"

"They're still alive. We received an encrypted message from L
T. It was garbled, but we know they're alive. They're holed up in a church," Agent Tomohiko said.

"A church
?"

"Your theory may be right on, sir. Now, we can't pretend to know how long
they'll be safe. With our air support grounded, and without any secondary units available to support them, it's all up in the air. The drone will be a big help, but if it's like the others, it won't fly long."

"No doubt," Jacobs said, nodding.

"Sir, any clue why we keep losing them? I know you don't want to say in front of the team. But sir, it can't be malfunctions. And we aren't pushing them as hard as we'd like to believe. I think you know why."

"I have a theory," Jacobs said. "It's wild, but nothing about this miss
ion is normal. I believe those things, those demons, are knocking them out of the sky."

"Sir?"

Commander Jacobs leaned forward at his desk, hovering over his laptop. He clicked a few buttons, and then entered a password. He pulled up a file, and clicking on it, showed an image to Tomohiko. "Here, take a look. It's grainy, but look."

The agent strained his eyes, leaning in close. "It looks like an outline of
a person. You can see an arm, a hand. There's a head and torso. Yeah, it looks like a person standing too close to a camera. One that's designed to take far off pictures is my guess."

"You'd be correct. Hence the grainy resolution. But do you see it? You do, don't you?" Jacobs
questioned.

"I do, sir. But I don't follow. What's this have to do
with our drones?"

"Agent Tomohiko, this picture was taken from one
of our drones."

"Sir?"

"And not on the ground, as we'd both hope to be the case. This shot was taken at eleven hundred feet, moments before the drone went offline."

"Commander Jacobs, the entire team has reviewed the tape. None of us have seen this."

"I had these images edited out before the team looked."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to go there. Not yet anyway. I suppose I wanted a logical reason why our drones kept failing. There isn't one. This is one of many images. When our drones get too close, they attack."

"Those people can fly?" Tomohiko asked, eyes
wide.

"I wouldn't call them people, agent. And yes, it appears they can in s
ome form. They race up and bat the damn things from the sky. We had a team recover one. Lopez, in all her talent, managed to fly the last one blind nearly sixty miles. We recovered it, and found it had markings consistent with . . ."

"With what, sir?

"Claw marks."

"Sir, you realize we need help, don't you?" Agent Tomohiko asked. "I
f our team is going to assault these demon things, they'll need support."

"Can't get it. Millions of dollars already wasted."

"Sir, they need backup. Maybe we can't get equipment, but perhaps another team?" he suggested.

Commander Jacobs thought on this a moment. He weighed his options,
and then finally nodded. "I suppose I can bring in a few more operators. How fast can we scramble them?"

"Sir, we can have a team here in three hours. On
location in four."

"How will they get on site?" Jacobs asked.

"I've thought about this, but with these recent findings, the images, I'll say our best option is HALO drop. With a High Altitude Low Opening drop, our plane is safe, and the pilots won't know what is going on. We'll tell them it's a training op. And the operators can come in from above. We may get the element of surprise."

Jacobs thought on this a bit, then nodded. "Okay, let's do it. I'll call th
e Pentagon. Let's get our boys some help. Let's kill those bastard demons, or whatever they are."

Santana sat back, high in his throne. He was relaxed, and impatient. This was taking longer than he desired. He scrat
ched the wooden chair with his long, black nails. They dug into it, sizzling as he stroked the wood. Then, Santana looked down into the room. Below his alter was Sax, who stood patiently. Santana said nothing, merely nodded.

"I smell her, M
aster," Sax said.

"Don't get my hopes up."

"Sorry Master, but I do."

"Where is she?"

"They have her. She's at the holy ground. The church, Master. She's protected right now."

"Don't disappoint me again. Both of you," he said, eyeing Chapo, who h
id in the shadows. "Come out," Santana beckoned. "I won't harm you. Not this time."

Chapo slowly walked out to face Santana, head
down. "Speak," Santana commanded.

"Sorry to disappoint. They have her inside."

"We must have our Eve. We must have her to return to form, to welcome our realm, to welcome our king," Santana said.

"Yes,
Master, we know this," Chapo said.

"Then why didn't you bring her?" Santana belted
out.

But before either could answer, Santana waved his hand. He shook his
head, disappointed, and said, "It wouldn't be wise to disappoint me again. Take her, and do it tonight," he commanded.

Then, Santana heard something. It was faint, but his hearing was like t
hat of an animal. The sound of shuffling feet was in the next room. He waited patiently for the steps to approach the door. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Santana snapped his fingers. Across the room, the large metal door suddenly flew open. "Enter!" Santana said.

The Sheriff stood there, confused. He hadn't touched the door, a
nd couldn't understand who had opened. He turned to his deputy, Pete, who shared the same sense of surprise.

"Enter," Santana said again.

The pair fumbled their way in. The room was dark, dimly lit with only a few candles. They attempted to walk to his alter, careful not to trip as they did.

Santana laughed. It was hideous. "Here comes our securi
ty. I feel safe, now," he said sarcastically.

"Um, the sun rises soon. In two minutes," the Sheriff mumbled. He l
ooked stoned, his eyes glossed over. He stared straight ahead, neither looking at Santana nor looking away.

"Good," Santana replied.

Then, Santana stood up. He was tall, looming over the room, over the two humans who cowered in his presence.

"Do I scare you?" Santana asked.

"Yup," the Sheriff replied.

"Why? You're the law in these parts. You carry the
gun. Why do I scare you?"

"I . .
. I don't know. You just do."

"Is it because your weapons are worthless? Is it because I could tear
you in half without a thought?"

"Yeah, that could be it," the Sheriff replied.

"Or, perhaps it's because I could rip you both to shreds before you could even scream out. Is virility really in such short supply here in Jack County?"

"I . . . I don't follow."

"No, of course not," Santana said. He despised humans, especially these two. "Why are you afraid? We share a common bond, a common enemy. You want this land returned to the people, do you not? So do I. We use the same American techniques. We work hard and support individualism. Those are the twin pillars of the American way of life. Are they not?"

"I suppose so. I didn't know you were an
American," the Sheriff said, bemused.

Santana laughed at this.

"Are you an America
n?" the Sheriff asked. He was almost embarrassed by the question.

Santana grinned, h
is rotting teeth dripping with saliva. "Of course I am. Believe it. I was born of this land. It's in my blood."

"Is that why you're here?"

"This land shall return to its king."

"Oh, I see . . ." the Sheriff replied. He didn't know what to say
to this. He was confused, had no clue what was expected of him. He had been summoned, and he had shown up.

"Are you still afraid?" Santana asked. For some reason, he held onto this. Fear.

"No. Well, yes. Maybe. I guess a bit less," the Sheriff said, struggling.

"
LIAR!" Santana screamed. "You are very afraid. And I know why."

"Because you can kill me?"

"No, that's not it. Anyone could kill you. A robber with a gun. A car wreck. No, that's not it."

"Then what?" the Sheriff asked. He wanted to know. He needed
to know. Why was he so afraid of this thing?

"I am an unknown. You fear me because you don't understand me. It's very logical. Much like you might fear a
spider. It looks different and it scares you. Some can even hurt you. Though you're much bigger, you fear that spider because it's unknown to you."

"Oh, I see," the Sheriff said, dumbfounded.
He was lost in a trance, staring into Santana's soulless eyes.

Santana continued, saying, "I'm an outsider, much like the spider. To you, I am a monster. To the church, I a
m divine. To the state, to the officials who wish to get rid of me, I am the ultimate outsider. I'm an alien to them. They fear me, and they wish to expel me."

"But that's human nature."

"It is, and that's why your kind is weak. Sheriff, may I ask you this: Do you believe in God?"

"I . . . I think so. Yes, my answer is yes," the Sheriff said boldly. "I'm a God-fearing Ame
rican. Yes, I do believe in him."

Santana eyed him carefully, tilting his head. "Then where is he?"

"God? In heaven, I suppose."

"In all this mess, where is God? Where is his great retribution?
His compassion? I'll answer for you: he's not here. There's no sign of him. He's most wanted, here and now, and yet he doesn't show himself. He hasn't answered the many prayers of Jack County. Has he turned his back on this place? Or, could it be he doesn't exist? Maybe he never existed?" Santana suggested.

This was all too much for the Sheriff, who was a simple man. "Look, t
his is beyond me. I do believe in God. I may not know much of him, but I do believe."

"Why? Because you were told to? Because you were raised to bel
ieve? Where is he? Where is he when Jack County so desperately needs him?"

This saddened the Sheriff. He couldn't place it, but he was filled wi
th a deep sadness that he'd never recover from. "You don't believe in him? You don't think he helps us?"

"It is I who
has appeared. It is I who has shown himself. I have not turned my back on this place. I hear all prayers, not him! I am the one who punishes sin. If there is one greater than I, do show him. Let him appear and challenge me. Introduce me to this mysterious living God, because I do not see him."

"There's the saying, he works in mysterious ways.
Maybe he is here," the Sheriff suggested, though he wasn't so convinced himself. What he didn't realize was this: his own belief system, his faith, was losing ground fast.

"I hear the wishes of millions. They desire a better life. I w
onder who hears their prayers. Who answers their calls? But it is not him, it is I. Did you ever think, Sheriff, that the one they pray to isn't an invisible God, but actually me? Perhaps . . . perhaps I am God."

"That would change so many things," the
Sheriff replied.

"Why? Because I don't fit in the neat little box. Because I'm
not what you think is divine?"

"No, because you are . . ." but the Sheriff trailed off. He was too scared to say
it.

Santana, how
ever, answered for him. "Evil?"

The Sheriff nodded.

"You see only in black and white. There are lines of gray, Sheriff."

Then, Chapo entered the room. He walked up to Santana, stopping
near the Sheriff. He waited until Santana eyed him, giving him permission to speak. "Master, sunrise has come."

Santana grinned. "Take care of my girls, Sheriff. Tonight
, you will see who truly rules here."

Behind Santana were two heavy doors. Suddenly, they
swooped open. Inside was only darkness, and screams. The Sheriff stepped back, as did Pete. Fear overcame them once more.

The demons raced out, scrambling around the room. They moved fast, almost too fast to see. They circled a few times,
and then raced back into the dark chambers. Santana joined them, seeming to be pulled back inside. A bit of mist drifted out, then the doors slammed shut.

The Sheriff looked to Pete, who began to speak. But the Sheri
ff put his finger to his lips, urging the man to remain quiet. Then, he whispered, "We have work to do." He pointed across the room. In the shadows, on the floor, was a bloodied and battered woman. Claudia remained still, moaning softly.

"Let's get moving," the Sheriff said.