Miller finally came to his senses and freed himself from the wreck of twisted metal. It took him several moments to gain the strength to get to his feet, the one still-broken leg sending shocks of pain in protest. He had to move faster, he had to get to Ann, save her from whatever that demon had planned. Not far ahead he noticed the still body of Samson on the ground. He quickly hobbled over and looked him over. Still alive, well done, Samson. Now for Ann, where had the demon taken her?

  As if on cue, a sudden movement caught Miller’s eye. It took several minutes to work out that it was Ann, falling from the top of the building.

  “No. No. No.” He breathed and turned away, not wanting to see his new friend’s end. He had seen so much death, but watching people you liked die never got easier. He heard the body hit the ground with a metallic clank. “I am so sorry Ann; I really hoped you would make it. But I will make him pay.” Anger boiled up inside him, anger at this demon, at this modern world, at himself for not doing more. He swept up a large chunk of glass with one free hand and headed to the building Ann had fallen from.

  As if answering Miller’s call for revenge, the demon dropped from the roof. It was now man shaped except for the massive wings jutting out of its back. Perhaps it planned to make some use of Ann’s corpse. We’ll put a stop to that. Glass raised, Miller charged. Well, less of a charge and more of a quick limp. The demon did not turn to face him, instead it stood motionless, black blood dripping onto the ground from various wounds.

  At last coming into range, a battle cry escaped Miller’s lips as he brought his makeshift weapon to bear. He put all his remaining strength into a blow aimed at the back of the demon’s neck. To his credit, the attack might have worked had he been in a bit better shape. The demon suddenly came to life, catching the “blade” with one hand and grabbing Miller’s throat with the other. The move was either impossibly fast or Miller was moving much slower than he had thought.

  “Gah!” was all that Miller could get out before the air was shut from his throat. The demon screamed and tossed Miller into the air. He bounced hard onto the concrete several feet away. Again the darkness took him.

  The sudden pain as he regained consciousness was a welcome sign that he was still among the living. All was not yet lost. He hung in the air, carried by the demon. It had him at arm’s length, inspecting him closely.

  “Mr. Miller, I presume.” Miller tried to respond, but simply choked. For a moment he coughed up blood. Then, recovering, he whispered an “aye” through his blood-stained teeth. He looked the demon man over. It had apparently not been a good day for “him”, either. Several large chunks were missing from its chest and the left side of its face was a black mangled mess. Black blood still oozed out of several wounds. Why isn’t it healing?

  It was then Miller noticed how high up they were. Below him was the city in all its modern glory. He had never seen such an alien landscape. Massive buildings of glass shot up everywhere, vehicles clogged the streets and on the sky. He could see giant metal birds drifting in the distance. He could only assume they were manmade. Directly below them was a massive cathedral, all grey stone with green highlights. It stood out as something familiar in all this madness, reminding him of his time in England and France all those years ago. Years for the world, but only short weeks for him. He focused back on the demon at hand.

  “Aye, I am Joseph Miller. You may have heard of me.” He grinned. The demon man did not return the smile. Perhaps it is hard to smile when you were missing half your face.

  “Oh yes, we last met in France.” It had started to remember then. How soon before it would remember its real name? For a moment, it said nothing, seeming to consider. Finally it said, “I find it amusing that humans have this concept called ‘Hell’, where the evil are punished by demons for their sins. It’s ironic I think.” He paused for a second, as if expecting a question. Miller just blinked back at him and said nothing. “You might ask why I find this ironic?”

  “Oh, I see,” Miller picked up his cue, baffled by the exchange. “Why do you find it ironic?” This was bizarre. Shouldn’t the creature just kill him and get it over with. Miller was sure it was somehow television’s fault.

  “You see, my version of hell would be an immortally of a kind. A cycle of constant rebirth, where I was born again, created a family, only to have them brutally murdered by one man. That same man would then come for me and he would kill me. Then in time, I would be reborn again, and the cycle would repeat itself.”

  Miller shrugged. “That does seem to fit the description, yes. Although is that what ironic means? I have always had some trouble with that word.”

  “It is ironic, because you are that man. You are my ‘demon’, my tormentor, and this whole planet, THIS is my hell.” He almost growled that last part. Miller gave out a weak laugh, which hurt horribly.

  Weakly, he responded. “That’s a pretty speech. How long did it take you to come up with that?” The demon man just stared at him; Miller could almost see the anger steaming off of it.

  “I suppose this is where you tell me I’ve lost and send me screaming to my death?”

  The demon smiled. Apparently he could do that. “Oh no, that’s too easy. See, I know your face now. Killing you won’t stop you. At least now I know what you look like. Why should I lose that advantage? Oh, I will hurt you, but you’ll live.”

  Miller was shocked. That was actually fairly intelligent. A demon had never suggested such a thing before.

  “But your friend,” the demon continued, “What was it… Samson? I’m going to suck every last bit of marrow from his bones. You can count on that.”

  Miller stiffened. So it was to be his life for Samson’s. That was not acceptable. He had failed too many people already. There had to be something he could do. Looking into the demon man’s ruined face; he stared hard at the one good eye. Why was it taking so long to heal? With his right hand he dug hard into his pocket.

  “Lad, that is the single most intelligent plan your kind has come up with in at least a thousand years. I have only one question.”

  The demon seemed taken aback by this compliment. “Ask.”

  “How good is your sense of smell?” With that Miller ripped the pen from his pocket and jammed it into its remaining eye, pushing it into the socket until it completely disappeared into the demon’s skull. The eye burst and the demon screamed, tossing Miller away into open sky.

  Miller had hoped to say something witty. Like maybe “The pen was mightier than then sword” or maybe simply “See you later”. Instead, he just screamed as he fell, the moment of his last death replaying clearly in his mind.

  Death did not come, however. Instead, he smashed hard into the angled roof of the large cathedral he had seen just moments before. He bounced once and started to slide down the slope. He threw his hands out, trying to grab onto anything that might slow his fall. He failed until he was past the edge of the roof and his right hand managed to find purchase on a loose tile. His broken collarbone screamed at the impact of his body coming to a stop. For a moment he hung in space, looking at the ground below, still a good 50 feet away. To his terror, the tile was slowly coming loose under his weight.

  “Wonderful!” And then Miller went about shouting as many curses in as many languages as he could recall. Some of them had not been spoken in thousands of years. He was rather proud of his ability to swear. It did not keep the tile from coming free however, and once again he was falling. He bounced hard off a windowsill, then forward through a paned glass window into the church below, hitting the ground with a solid thud. God Samson, I hope that was enough. Then thought left him and nothing remained.

  19 - The End and the Beginning

  Will You Follow Me – Rob Dougan – Furious Angels

  The world slowly came back to Mike. He awoke to find it was dark, which instantly terrified him. Realizing he was in a hospital bed made it that much worse. He panicked briefly and tried to get out of bed, but his head spun too much. Panting, he lay back down and waited for the spinning to stop. On his bed was a sleeping shape he recognized as his son.

  “Sam!” He gave a shout of joy. The boy snapped awake and glanced around the room in surprise.

  “Dad?” And then, after a second to focus, “Dad!” Father and son embraced for a long time.

  “I thought you went away too, Dad.”

  “Never,” Mike swore.

  In time, a doctor came to check in on him, and Sam fell back to sleep in Mike's bed. Mike stayed awake, too busy processing the events of the past day to find rest. He had learned and seen so much. He knew now that there were monsters out there. And not the human kind, but real Hollywood-quality monsters that ate people. He had seen where the legends of vampires and werewolves had originated. He was a pretty sure an immortal man named Miller had hunted these monsters down for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. He knew that he, along with Miller, had tried to save a young woman named Ann. He had failed to save the captives tucked away in the hospital basement that came to who knows what terrible fate. It was all a bit much to take in. It had to have been an insane dream.

  In time, it was revealed that he was in St. Michal’s hospital. They had found him on the street, unconscious. Besides several deep cuts, blood loss, and a concussion, he was actually in fairly good shape. Obviously with the situation at College Hospital, they were not taking patients there, much to Mike's relief. It would be a long time before he could step in that building again, if ever.

  According to the news, a gas leak at the hospital had killed close to 70 people. Twenty-seven people were apparently rescued from the basement and had managed to escape unaffected. No mention was made of the demon flying through downtown Newark. It sounded like the weakest cover story Mike had ever heard. But then, the truth sounded even worse.

  Mike had been in the hospital for a good twenty-four hours before they came to visit. Mike was watching “Power Rangers” with Sam when two tall men in dark suits and dark shades entered the room. Seeing them, Mike couldn't help but whistle the theme music from “Men in Black”. One was quite large. The other was a much smaller man with a cruel scar on his cheek that started at his chin and made a line directly to his ear, which was missing the lobe.

  “Mr. Samson,” the scarred man said. “I'm Agent Smith from the FBI.”

  “Smith? Like in the Matrix?” Sam asked. The man stiffened for a moment. He responded in a voice so dry with sarcasm, Mike thought it might snap.

  “Yes, just like the guy in the movie. We were wondering if we might have a word with you, alone, for a few minutes,” Smith said, glancing at Sam and his grandmother, who were sitting in the room.

  “Of course. Sarah, can you take Sam to the cafeteria and get him something to drink?” She nodded, taking Sam by the hand and walking out the door. As it closed behind them, Sam said, “But I want to see the secret agents!” And then they were gone. That put a smile on Smith's face as he took a seat next to Mike's bed. Smith's backup stood stoically, as if blocking the door so Mike couldn't run away.

  “So, what can I do for you fellows? I’m guessing this has something to do with a gas leak.”

  Another smile from Smith. “Yeah, you might say that. We understand you saw some pretty strange things.” Pretty strange?

  “Pretty strange does not even begin to cover it. The stuff of nightmares is more like it,” Mike responded.

  “Can you tell us what you saw?”

  Mike licked his lips. Should he? Would it even make sense? He had to, the world should know, even if no one would believe him.

  So he told them the truth. Or, most of the truth. For some reason he left Miller completely out of the picture. Otherwise though, he told of them of troubled Ann, who was looking for a missing ex-boyfriend, and all the horrors they found together. He told them the monsters’ plan in the basement. He told them of their escape from the hospital. And then he told them of Ann's abduction.

  “Did she make it?” Mike asked.

  “Who?”

  “Ann… Ann Melakh, I think her last name was.”

  Smith flipped through a pad and then stated, “Looks like we aren’t sure, she’s on the missing list.”

  There was a long pause, and then Smith spoke again. “I think you understand when we ask that you tell this to no one.”

  “Who would believe me? But I need to know that you guys are doing something. That you understand that I'm not just some crazy guy seeing monsters in the shadows.”

  “Well, I can't really release any details at this time. But we are investigating the matter. I've had a talk with your Chief and arranged two weeks of paid leave for you.” Smith stood up to leave. “Spend some time with your son and try to forget all this.” With that, he and his silent partner left.

  The next day, Mike went home and started to get on with his life. Several of his fellow officers and friends had been killed by the “gas leak”, and so he found himself in his dress uniform three days later for a large funeral. Jessica Jones was one of them, as well as her partner. While he had not known her well, it saddened him. He brought her a single red rose. While there, Sam and Mike also visited Sam's mother. As Mike did every time he visited his dead wife, he made the sign of the cross and asked for her forgiveness. Not that it ever helped.

  And so Mike Samson tried to move on. His nightmares were still the same nightmares, except sometimes Ann would appear, or Miller - crazy grin and all. He did not dream of demons or werewolves or vampires. His own monsters remained center stage in his dreams. Maybe he felt the things he had seen were too terrible to possibly be true, or maybe his mind just wanted to pretend it never happened. For nine days, he managed to pull it off even with the Zhang’s empty house across the street. However, on the tenth day there was a knock at the door.

  “I think it is one of the joyless witnesses,” Sam said, peeking from behind a curtain.

  “Jehovah’s witness, Sam, and let me see.” It wasn't a Jehovah’s witness. It was Joseph Miller. He stood at the door of the house, dressed in beat up old jeans, ruined sneakers, and a black t-shirt. He no longer had a cast on his foot, and in fact, looked as good as new.

  Mike hesitated before opening the door. Having Miller outside his house was like having a visitor from another world. He was a flashback from the day his world went mad. What would happen if he let this man back in? Still, he had saved his life; he could at least see him. Mike opened the door.

  “Mr. Samson!” Miller’s face split with that God-awful grin of his.

  “Miller?” was all Mike said before the strange Hispanic man had him wrapped up in a hug. Miller ended the hug and pushed himself inside.

  “Oh, this is a lovely place you have here. And look! You have your own TV.” Sam looked sheepishly at this new stranger in his house. And they certainly didn't get much stranger than Miller. “And a boy! What a fine looking lad you are.” Miller rustled Sam's fair playfully.

  “Err, Sam, this is a friend of Daddy's. His name is Mr. Miller. Miller, this is my son, Sam.”

  Sam looked Miller up and down. “Are you a bum?” Sam asked. There was such an honest tone to Sam's voice; Mike had to laugh a bit.

  “A bum? Is that good?” Miller asked, looking confused.

  “It's your clothes, they just look a bit.... err dirty.”

  “Aye, well I obtained them from a kindly priest. Many things have changed but the good folks of the cloth are always there to lend a hand when in need. Too bad they are such prudes about the ladies. Otherwise I could quite see myself as a holy man. ”

  “Right, look, as much as I’d love to chat with you, what are you doing here? And how did you find me?”

  “Ah, easy! I think you may have guessed, after our little run in with...” he looked down at Sam, “that rather rude fellow, I found myself a bit under the weather. Luckily, I managed to drop in on a nearby church where some very nice folks took me in. Once I had a few days to pull myself back together, I expressed to them a need to find my long lost cousin. One Mike Samson. Well, after a bit of doing, they kindly gave me a ride in one of those fine horseless carriages...”

  “Cars, Miller, we call them cars.”

  “Cars. Right. I will remember that. Anyway, they got me here. Like I said, good people. Do you have anything to drink? Preferably ale?”

  “Umm, yeah, in the fridge, hold on. You’ll have to deal with root beer, I don’t keep alcohol in the house anymore.” Mike motioned to the couch and moved to the kitchen. Miller took a seat and Sam followed his father into the next room.

  “Mr. Miller seems kinda funny. And he smells bad.”

  “Yes, yes he does,” Mike agreed. Of course bathing habits had changed in the last hundred years. “Why don't you play in your room? I think I need to talk adult stuff with Mr. Miller.”

  “It is not about sex, is it?” Sam asked.

  “No, and what did I tell you about sneaking out and watching HBO after bed time?”

  After sending his son off, Mike returned to the living room. He tossed Miller the can of root beer. Miller caught out of the air, but then stared at it.

  “Err, help?” Mike walked over to him and popped the can open. “Ahh, thank you.” He took a quick slug, made a surprised face, shrugged and drained the can.

  “Before we start… Ann?” Mike did not state the full question. There was no need. The smile drained from Miller’s face and he shook his head slightly. “No.”

  There was a long pause as both men stared at the floor. At last, Mike let out a shaky sigh and pushed.

  “So what can I do for you Miller?”

  “Straight to business. I like that in a man,” Miller grinned. “Well, to just come out with it, I'm here to offer you a job.”

  “A job? “

  “Aye. You’ve shown me you can handle yourself under less than,” he paused, looking for the word, “normal circumstances. I have need for a man of your caliber.”

  “I'm sorry Miller; I don't see myself doing the professional monster hunter gig. It's just not me. I'm a single dad now. To be honest, I've been thinking about retiring from the force, finding something safe. For Sam's sake.”

 

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