Saint by K H Simmons

The streets are heaving, far busier than you would expect. I check my watch. Three hours until curfew. A woman stumbles as she tries to cross the street, a bag packed full of tins of baked beans splits and the contents rolls across the tarmac. No one stops to help. They’re all too busy carrying their own things, toilet rolls, baguettes, DIY kits, a wheelbarrow full of sandbags. I shake my head and pause, bending down to help collect the escaping tins.

'Thanks so much-' she gasps her gratefulness. I pass her a tin, she sees my hands. She drops what she’s carrying and staggers back. The whites of her eyes flaring in the afternoon sun. She tries to say something, can’t find the words, turns on her heel and runs. Startled by the sudden movement other people stop and stare. I try to tug my sleeves down to cover my hands but it’s too late. The people closest to me have seen. Some are shaking their heads in disgust, others scurry away, not wanting to be near me. The fear in the air is tangible. You’d think they’d be grateful. You’d be wrong.

I abandon the beans and make my way through the crowd, they stand aside as if I’m contagious, as if at any moment I may infect them just by my mere existence. Before long I melt into the chaos again. There’s a raucous down the street, people fighting over something - supplies most likely. It’s just one night yet people stock up like this is their new reality. Shops had had to place restrictions on the number of items people could purchase to try to prevent the hoarders. I’m not sure it worked. I ignore the altercation. It isn’t my place to intervene. That’s what the police are for, not that they are around. They are busy trying to secure their own homes, protect their own families. I don’t blame them.

I turn into a quiet road. The terraced houses here are crammed together, windows boarded with plywood, neighbours checking out each other's gardens to see if they were a weakness. I stride up to number 21, ignoring the whispers behind trembling palms. I knock against the door, hoping it's not been barricaded yet. I glance behind me. The nextdoor neighbour is a man in his thirties, right age to conscript, some excuse means he’s hammering nails into his fence trying to reinforce it. He realises I’m looking at him. He grips the hammer tight in his palm. I can see the thoughts grinding through his smoke addled brain as he chews the end of a cigarette that’s gone out. With his free hand, he runs grimy fingers through sweat-greased hair.

I nod to him with more respect than I feel. With a noise like a rutting pig he draws phlegm to the back of his throat before spitting it in my direction. It falls short, the globule splatting on the path by my feet.

‘Traitor,’ he snarls, his knuckles going white against the handle.

A million arguments try to jump up my throat, I swallow them down as I hear the latch being drawn back on the door of 21.

Mia stands there, one hand on the doorframe, one on the gun at her hip. Black braids, hang loose about her shoulders. Her dark eyes give me that look that sends knots into my stomach. I miss the butterflies. The knots hurt. She glances at my hands, notices I’m not wearing my gloves, clicks her tongue and holds the door open for me.

‘Just because he sold his soul doesn’t mean you have to!’ the neighbour shouts, loud enough for the street to hear.

‘Mind your own damn business, Jack. If there were fewer cowards like you, less people like him would be forced to sell their souls,’ Mia snaps. She slams the door behind me before he has a chance to argue. I start to thank her for defending me, then I see the way she glances down at my hands again. I shut my mouth and nod, letting her lead the way into the kitchen.

It’s dim in here, the wood over the windows barely allows a crack of daylight to seep in. The old bulb above the kitchen table is working overtime to keep things visible. Kye is sitting at the table, playing with some lego. As soon as he sees me, he drops his toy and runs into my arms. Mia opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut again, a grim twist to her lips. Vee stays where she’s sitting, not even lowering the book she’s reading. The only sign she’s realised I’m here is the little frown creasing her usually smooth brow. I know why, but it still hurts like a knife sliding into those knots in my guts. I raise my hand in what I hope is a friendly wave. She slams the book down and storms out into the living room. I hoped today of all days I would be forgiven. I guess I’m not. I knew what I was letting myself in for. I knew the looks I’d get. I knew the judgement I’d receive. I just didn’t expect it from them. I thought they’d understand. Just like everyone boarding up their windows, stocking up on essentials, holding their family’s close - everything I do is for them, to protect my family. I just went further. I did what I thought was best. They don’t agree. Perhaps after tonight they will. Or perhaps they’ll never look at me again.

Kye releases me and starts excitedly telling me about his lego. He’s the only one who still looks at me the same way. It’s because he’s too young to understand, it still warms my heart though. I smile and ask what he’s building.

‘A big tower,’ he tells me. ‘Like the one upstairs.’ He means the one uptown. ‘Bang bang!’ He smashes an unfortunate lego man against the table. Perhaps he understands more than I give him credit for. The tower he’s referring to is the blight of the city skyline, and its saviour, maybe. Bristling with guns, it waits all year for this night.

I turn back to Mia, who’s watching with tension in her shoulders. ‘Do you have everything you need?’ I ask.

She shrugged. ‘I guess so. Not much else we can do.’ She gestured to the boarded windows. There was a door in the hallways that led down to a small basement space. I guessed that’s where they’d hole up. It’s where we had hidden last year. The year before we’d gone to Mia’s parents place in the suburbs, thinking it would be safer, less people, less...temptation. We were wrong. So very wrong. That suburb doesn’t exist any more. It’s a wasteland. We only got out because of pure luck, or fate, or perhaps it was divine intervention. There was a military truck, they took us with them when they received the order to withdraw. Not everyone was so lucky. Mia’s parents weren’t so lucky.

It’s not something we talk about. When I told her what I was going to do this year, I used it as an argument, saying people like me could save people like them. I would be saving lives. She hadn’t agreed. She knew the risks. She knew what it did to you. Now she keeps her distance, she looks at me like I’m not the same man she married. I’m sure I am. Most of the time anyway. When it doesn’t feel like there are claws in my brain.

‘When I leave, make sure you block the doorway. Use the bookcase. Board it up if you have to,’ I say.

She heaves a sigh and perches on the kitchen counter. For a moment her countenance slips and there’s a longing there, in amongst all the fear and anger. ‘I wish you could stay,’ she replies before she can stop herself. I remain silent. I can’t stay. She knows I can’t, and she wouldn’t want me to either. She wishes the old me could stay, could have stayed, could have been here.

She flicks on the radio. It’s all predictions and reassurance.

‘It’s two hours until curfew. We have received confirmation that the government bunkers are full and will be sealed in an hour. For those of us not fortunate enough to have access to secure bunkers, what advice can you offer Phil?’ says the radio host.

‘Well, Daisy, as always it is law that everyone remains within their homes or a secure location until the end of the lockdown. Barricade your doors and windows, turn off anything electrical and make sure there are no light sources, that includes torches and candles. Keep noise to a minimum, if you have young children or babies we recommend soundproofing a room. Whatever you do, don’t go outside, don’t try to fight them, stay hidden, stay safe.’

‘Thanks, Phil.’

It was the same advice every year. Sometimes I wonder if it’s a recording. Don’t fight. Just hide. Unless of course you were conscripted or if you were like me. Tonight everyone would be on their own. No police, ambulance, or fire brigade would be coming to help. Neighbours and friends would just as likely throw you to the wolves as throw you a lifeline. When it comes to survival we are a selfish people, for the most part. There are those who fight and those that save. It’s not for everyone. I’m still not sure it’s for me, but I don’t feel I have a choice. Well, I guess I don’t anymore. I made my decision. I have two hours to see if it was the right one.

‘You know I’m doing this for you, for Kye and Vee,’ I say.

‘Don’t,’ she holds up her hand. ‘Just don’t.’ She turns away as if she can’t stand the sight of me.

I hold out a hand to her. Black spirals curl from my fingertips up my arms, the pattern is unique, twisting through my skin like a tattoo. Only it’s not a tattoo, the black is darker than anything you’ve seen and it throbs and pulses as if it has a life of its own. It’s smooth to the touch, indistinguishable from my own skin apart from how it makes you feel if someone else were to touch it. I’ve been told it’s like an emptiness, a consuming void sucking everything good from you, hope, love, life, it takes it all. I don’t feel that though, to me it’s just there, waiting on the edge of my soul like a guest waiting to be invited in. Mia stares at my hand and backs away shaking her head. Kye glances from his mother to me and back again. I let my hands drop. It would be easier to hide them, to cover them with the black gloves I’d been given. I had never been one to take the easy option though.

Maybe I want to suffer. Maybe I want people to judge and hate me. Maybe it’s my punishment, my sin.

I sigh and walk into the living room where Vee has gone back to being engrossed in her book. She turns her shoulder as I come in to try to block me out.

‘I know you’re angry. I get it,’ I say.

She purses her lips. God, she looks so much like her mother.

‘I have to go soon. Keep your brother and your mum safe tonight.’

She lets her book drop onto her knee with a thud. ‘You don’t.’

‘What?’ I say.

‘You don’t get it. You don’t get it all or you wouldn’t have done it,’ she blurts, her voice is high with undisguised rage.

I let out a slow breath. ‘There’s no other way. It’s the only way to keep you all safe.’

‘No! It’s not. Let someone else do it. You should be here with us!’

‘There isn’t always someone else to do it. Sometimes you have to do things yourself, Vee.’

‘And sometimes you don’t,’ she snapped. Damn it, twelve going on twenty. This world is making her grow up far too fast.

I know what I’m asking of her is too much. It’s not fair. Yet, I must. ‘I’m doing this - I did this so that you and your brother will have a chance to grow up in a world that isn’t like this. One where you’re not afraid, where the only thing you have to worry about is what you’re having for dinner. I did it because I could and because I should. I have the chance to protect you and maybe one day if you have kids or someone you love as much as I love you and Kye and your mother, you’ll understand. All I want is for you to never have to make a decision like the one I made. I am sorry it hurt you, I’m sorry that we’ll never be the same, I’m sorry that after tonight you might never see me again. But I’m not sorry that I made this choice. I’m not sorry that I have a chance to protect you all and make this world a better place. I won’t apologise for that and maybe you’ll hate me for it.’

There are tears brimming in her eyes and her fists are curled into tight balls of fury.

‘It’s not fair. I know it’s not.’ I kneel down by the sofa but I don’t reach out to her. Even though all I want is to wrap her up in my arms and hold her like I held her when she was a little girl, I know it would be too much for her. ‘I love you so much. No matter what happens, know that I love you all more than anything else in the world.’

The tears bubble over and splash down her cheeks. She wipes them away angrily, sniffing as she does so. I want her to say it back. Please say it back. She chokes back a sob but says nothing. I know she does love me, I tell myself they all do. What I have done is too painful for them to push past right now. I swallow the lump in my throat and stand up. Mia is in the doorway, holding Kye against her leg. Are those tears in her eyes? My watch beeps. My time is up.

Goodbyes are always too short. They never quite convey the meaning they’re meant to. I want to hug them, but I don’t. I can’t, they cringe away from my hands like they’re covered in spiders. The door shuts behind me and I hear the bolt slide across. There’s a pause before the noise of something wooden and heavy being dragged over the floor. Was that a stifled sob? I shake my head and descend the steps. Jack, the neighbour, is gone, having finished reinforcing his fence, his door is shut and his windows boarded. Tonight they cower as we fight.

The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows over quiet streets. Only the unprepared and the panicking are hurrying home now. A cool breeze tickles the back of my neck as I make my way to the meeting point. Checkpoint C is just one of several throughout the city. The lettered checkpoints are for people like me, the numbered ones are for the military and armed civilian forces. They want to keep us separate. Just in case. There was a lot of that when I went to them too.

What’s the waiver for?

Just in case.

What are the straps for?

Just in case.

What are the armed guards for?

Just in case.

Just in case often saves lives though.

The checkpoint is a park in a densely residential area of town, too close to Mia’s house for my liking. As expected the vans are already here. Black painted with blacked out windows and bullet-proof glass, in stark contrast with the white-coated scientists hopping in and out. They’re not alone though, there are men with guns too, they are calm and composed, no twitchy trigger fingers here. They can’t afford to lose their most valuable units to the fearful. A scientist sees me and beckons me over. According to her ID badge her name is Anya. Her blonde hair is swept back in a bun in an attempt to disguise the grease lingering there. She’s run ragged, the dark circles under her eyes, the slight smell of body odour concealed by copious amounts of body spray - she’s not slept for days. She’s not the only one.

She leads me to the back of one of the vans. Inside there’s a set up like the most high-tech ambulance you’ve ever seen. Or maybe it’s more like a tech lab. Either way I climb in and perch on the narrow stool beside a computer. With a device like a barcode reader she scans my arms, it beeps as it recognises the black spiral pattern that stretches from my fingertips to just above my elbows. Checking the scanner, she types a code into the computer before attaching wires to my wrists and temples, then after I unbutton my shirt she fixes six to my torso too.

‘Breathe normally,’ she says.

Of course every time someone says something like that you then become acutely aware of your breathing. My thoughts are scattered. One moment I’m thinking about that day on the beach with Mia and the kids. The next second I’m thinking about the darkness. Needles sticking into my arms. Fire and ice in my veins. The void inside me. The sunshine beating down as Kye splashes water at me. The water - no something thicker, something darker, it’s cold dripping down my skull. Blood.

I blink and I’m back in the van. The scientist is giving me a weary look. She turns to the guard standing silently at the door.

‘It’s starting, we’ve got maybe twenty minutes before we have to leave.’

He nods and goes to inform the others.

A shudder runs down my spine and I take a deep breath. She makes a note on a tablet, cross checking the stats on the screen next to me.

‘Have you been experiencing any side effects?’ she asked.

‘Not really,’ I say as I try to focus on the now. I wondered what difference it would make if I had been experiencing them. Would they put me down here and now? Just in case?

She shines a light in each of my eyes. Thin black sticks protrude from the skin on her neck, wriggling, pulling at the skin until they’re free. Spiders, scuttle out, hundreds of them with bulbous black bodies. I recoil. They’re gone. They’re not real. Not yet anyway. She tries to disguise the fact that her heart is pounding at my sudden movement. Another note on her tablet. I can read this one.

Unlikely to maintain connection.

All I can hope is that she’s wrong. I have to maintain my connection to myself, if I don’t, then I’m just one of them, another one of legions, I will fail. I will kill and destroy and I won’t be able to protect anything. I have to maintain my connection, so she has to be wrong. She detaches the wires before turning to a locked cupboard opposite me. She unlocks it with a swipe of her ID badge. She takes out a solid white case large enough to contain the syringe I guessed was inside. It was part of the contract.

‘If you feel yourself slipping, inject this into your neck.’ She handed me the case.

‘Is that even possible?’ I asked as black tendrils crept up her legs and wrapped around her white lab coat. She didn’t notice them. It hadn’t started yet.

She pursed her lips, thinking I was looking at her legs not the throbbing black vines trying to crush her bones. ‘If it is possible, it should be done. Hopefully it won’t be necessary though. It is just in case.’

Of course it is. Just in case I can’t hold onto myself. Just in case I fail. Just in case they can’t stop me. I tuck the case into my jeans pocket. It clinks against my phone, should have left that at home. Probably the least of my worries really. Oh, my head hurts. I check my watch. Not long. The government bunkers would be sealed now and the last warning for curfew would be soon.

Anya gestures for me to get out of the van. There are others here. Some are scared. Others are psyching themselves up. The scientists are packing up the vans. A man in uniform steps up onto the children’s roundabout as a vantage point. If it was any other night it would be comical. It squeaks under his weight and he shouts to get our attention, not that anyone is really talking.

‘You have all sworn an oath to protect this city. You have all made the ultimate sacrifice to save people. You are Saints in the eyes of humanity and whatever god you may worship. Tonight will test you, and it may well break you. All we ask is that you don’t give up. You fight to your last breath and may some of us make it to the morning.’ He nods, satisfied. That was it. We fight, we might die. It was as simple as that.

He climbs into the closest van and they drive away leaving just ten of us in the park as the sun sinks towards the horizon.

‘Saints,’ one woman laughs and shakes her head. ‘What a name.’

‘Martyrs to our cause,’ another man replies. He is on his knees praying.

‘Nothing saintly about this,’ she says holding up her hands in the dying light. Criss-crossed black lines pulsate through her skin. ‘To defeat monsters we must become monsters,’ she smiles as if quoting someone, I can’t say who though.

I turn my head as I see the shadows from the swings crawling towards us. Snakes coil around the climbing frame baring fangs like needles. The sky is darkening and it’s not from the sunset. Clouds like thunderheads are forming and there's electricity in the air like at any moment lightning is going to strike. The others stop talking. The man on his knees climbs to his feet and stares up at the sky. Every year we hope it’s the last year, that the next year it won’t happen again. Every year we are wrong. Every year we say we fight but really all we do is try to survive. That’s what I’m doing. I’m surviving and trying to give my family a chance to survive too. The claws are there, digging into my brain. The black spiral around my arms feels like it constricts, cutting off blood. I can feel it expanding, slithering up my arms, chilling my blood, grasping tendrils pushing apart my bones and stretching for my heart. I should pray that this was the right choice, that this is all worth it.

My watch beeps. My eyes snap to it. Too late to pray now. Only a second later a siren rings out, echoed in discordant harmony across the city. Ten long, harsh blasts of sound. Ten painfully slow heart beats as the darkness reaches for it. Ten Saints clutching syringes, just in case.

What the hell have I done? Hell. That’s what this is. It can’t be explained any other way. I’ve never seen it before. Every other time I was cowering in some basement, holding my children and my wife, hoping they wouldn’t come for us, hoping the barricades would hold, hoping we would live to see the morning. What am I doing out here? It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The sky rips asunder, it's broken and in that break there’s only darkness. It’s not the night sky, no stars shine from this blackness, it’s the same colour as the spirals up my arms, that darker than dark impossible lack of light. But it’s not broken like a window pane, the edges are bleeding out darkness into the orange-tinted sky the fading sun has left behind. It’s like someone has slashed a gaping wound and it is weeping freely upon the earth. What could only be seconds seems to drag on for a lifetime as I stare up into the void. The spirals quiver at the opening, responding to their origin. I want to gag as I feel them reaching inside me, tightening their grasp. They wrap around my muscles, and there’s this surge unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s like all my veins are filled with burning ice and I’m flooded with darkness that tries to choke my thoughts before they have a chance to form. It’s agony and power and it horrifies and exhilarates me.

There’s a roar into the night air and it takes me a moment to realise it came from my own mouth. The praying man is on his knees again, convulsing as dark diamonds grind through his skin and up his neck. The woman with the criss-cross pattern has her arms spread welcoming the void. Her breathing is ragged as it fills her. The man on the ground next to her struggles to his feet, although his brow is still knitted with fear he grins a too-wide grin and his eyes are staring. The darkness is flooding his irises like a spilled pot of ink, for a split-second they bulge like a barrier trying to stop an impossible tide, then it breaks and the black gushes forth into the sclera. He’s gone. I know what I must do but I can’t move. My eyes are drawn back up to the void that now, they’re coming now, in their chaotic legions. Hell made real and given form. At first they have no shape, they are simply darkness manifest, then as they latch onto the fears of humanity they take form. Winged serpents scour the skies, bats the size of horses swoop down screeching as they search for their prey, creatures with no given name with tentacles and teeth drop from the sky like the rain of nightmares. There are spiders thudding onto rooftops, their pointed legs piercing between the rafters, many eyes hunting.

It’s impossible. The screams are already starting. The others are struggling with their own demons as the void tries to take us. Some Saints we are. Across the street from the park I see a winged serpent smash through the plywood barricade of a window in a block of flats. Screams. It emerges with a woman in its jaws. Its fangs have pierced her body. Blood is pouring onto the street below and yet she screams and fights, lashing the fiends mouth with weak fists. It coils and launches back into the air, leathery wings beating hard as it attempts to swallow its prey. I think of Mia and Vee and Kye, huddling in their basement. I think about how useless the boards over their windows are, how pathetic the advice was of moving the bookcase in front of the door, how inept the gun at Mia’s hip will be. What earthly force can stop these beasts?

It can’t. That is why I made my choice. That is why I am here. That is why I am a Saint.

In one fluid movement I grab the man who has surrendered to the void. He isn’t aware of me until it's too late. My hand is around his throat and like a twig, I snap his neck. The void hadn’t been fast enough to reform him. I feel a rush of something like adrenaline as his life leaves like the flick of a switch. I drop him to the ground and turn my attention to the closest building. The screams of the woman have drawn others. Spiders skitter across the walls trying to find an entrance. Bats circle above, waiting for the runners. A multitude of other creatures are smashing down the doors. Before I know it I’m running towards them. My heart beats a steady rhythm as the void spirals reinforce it, empowering me, not controlling me. I almost laugh with the rush of it. Almost. Until I see the things before me. The blood. The viscera. The terror. It’s almost enough to make me run. I can’t though. I am a Saint. I made this sacrifice for you. For all of you.

I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. It’s like I’m not quite in control of my body. But I’m still me, that’s the important thing, I’m still holding onto me. I glance behind me, the others are gone, fighting the hordes or fighting humanity. I turn back to the horror before me as a scorpion the size of a Great Dane backs out of the front door, it has a man gripped in its vice-like pincers. He’s still kicking, crying out for help, not realising that he’s dead already. Its dark brown exoskeleton is already splattered with blood. A drop of poison glistens on the sharp tip of its sting. There’s another man at the top of the stairs pointing a shotgun down. Tears streaming down his face. There’s no clear shot. The range is too far, he’ll just rake them both with shrapnel. I step up behind the scorpion. The man on the stairs is coming down, shouting. He freezes as he sees me, the whites of his eyes flashing in the flickering lights.

‘John,’ the word dies on his lips as the scorpion brings its tail up like a whip ready to lash out. I grab hold of it. My hands are covered in the spirals now so barely any of my own skin is visible, it’s pulsating with power, a strength that should be impossible. The scorpion lets out a screech and releases its prey. It tries to turn but in doing so pulls its tail tort in my hands. I snap it, twist and break it off. Yellow blood oozes out. It spins and snaps at me with its pincers. One grabs an arm. I should be afraid but I’m not. I ignore the pain as it tries to amputate me. I pull towards it, not something it expects me to do, and aim a kick at the joint of its pincer. It splinters and there’s another burst of yellow goo. It releases me and I jump onto the flat scales of its back. I stomp down obliterating its body like a human stomping on a cockroach. I catch myself, like I would stamp on a cockroach. I am still human. I am still me. John, the beast’s victim, was crawling over the threshold towards his partner who has the shotgun aimed uncertainly at me, wondering if I’m the real monster.

Rubble from the building crashes down onto the road next to me. More and more of the beasts are trying to get inside, excited by the prospect of the kill. John and his partner, and anyone else inside has nowhere to go. They could hide in wardrobes or under beds but it would be useless. I look down at my feet, my boots covered in the yellow substance. It’s crystallising and turning to black. The remnants of its body are crumbling into tiny crystals. That’s what I am, that’s what made me. I am them. No. No, I’m not. I’m me. Just better. I ignore John’s partner with the shotgun and leap at the side of the building. It’s an impossible jump, I latch onto a window frame and climb up, window to window until I’m on the roof. Part of it has collapsed where something crashed through. Mostly it is covered in a swarm of bats and other flying creatures attempting to get inside through the mess of broken beams, leaking pipes and sparking wires.

I can’t think - don’t think - just kill - rip - tear - eviscerate.
There’s screams and blood. There’s monsters and demons, devils and the all-consuming void. With fingers like claws I scrape it all away like it’s a stain on the wallpaper of the world. Horrified eyes blink tears as they discover if they’re a runner or a freezer. None of them are fighters. How could they be? How could they fight against this rapture? I find myself outside again on the ground. The building is crumbling. I’m covered in dust and other-wordly residue and blood. Who’s blood is it? Is it mine? Is it theirs? Did I snap? Am I broken already?

There’s no one I can ask. Elsewhere in the city an explosion racks the ground. It could be the military, or it could be the fiends targeting a power station, or it could just be someone left the gas on. It’s easy to forget things like that on a night like this. You’d think it wouldn’t matter, but it does. You can still die to other things, it is merely a race between the natural causes and the unnatural. Step by step I make my way through the carnage of nightmares. I skirt around a puddle of intestines without an owner, it doesn’t even make me feel sick - me who can’t even watch the tamest of horror movies. The coward hasn’t become brave, he has simply become something else. No, wait, not he, me. I’m he. I’m still me. Still me. Still me.

It’s only the start of the night and it feels like everything’s ending. What can I possibly do against all of this. I pause as I notice something out of the ordinary. Lights not from fires or spotlights. This is the warm glow of candlelight from a wide open door. I blink as I stop. It’s a church and the doors are wide open. Inside a congregation doesn’t huddle together in prayer, instead they sit or stand in celebration as the preacher cries out to them.

‘God will protect the faithful! See what his might does to those who have not been faithful? Yet our door stands open and we are safe, that is because we are faithful!’

I stare in disbelief. I know that there are fanatics, there’s bound to be when hell literally comes to earth, but these people are going to die. Their faith won’t protect them now, it can’t, the void doesn’t care if you’re a monk or a murderer, it doesn’t discriminate between religion, race, politics, or gender. It simply kills, kills, kills.

Before I know it I’m on the doorstep bathed in the soft light. The priest’s eyes rest upon me.
‘See! See! The devil may not pass the threshold. Begone thee devil!’ he yells in a shrill voice.

I shake my head. I mean to say that I’m not the devil, but no words come out. Instead I just step inside. Gasps rise from the congregation but they’re waiting as if I may still be about to burst into flames. The silence of the church stretches in stark contrast to the chaos beyond. Then it’s ruptured with an almighty crash as a two-headed wyvern with skin like lava smashes through the roof leaving flames and smoke in its wake. Then the screams start.

The priest is still trying to reassure them and he may have succeeded if the wyvern didn’t pluck a woman from her seat and begin tearing apart between the twin heads. He loses them then, they bolt, running past me because I looked like the safer bet than the wyvern. I step forward and the priest raises an accusatory finger at me.

‘You! You brought them here into this holy hous-’ he didn’t finish. The wyvern spun around, sensing me, its barbed tail impaled the priest and flung him back and forth like some cursed ragdoll.

What if I did bring them here? Doubts creep in my mind. Only the truly insane believe they are not insane. Is that right? It doesn’t matter now. The wyvern swallows half of the woman each and flicks the priest free to land in a bloody heap by the pulpit. I run and jump, straddling the wyvern’s neck. It’s too wide for my hands so I pick and claw at the scales as it lashes me one way and another. For a moment I’m in a car, rubbing my neck while Mia shouts blue murder at the guy who shunted us. I blink and I’m back, I dig in my heels and burrow my fingers in until I find soft skin. I duck and sink my teeth in, ripping at it like a rabid dog. There - bone, I pulverise it with teeth and fist. It tosses me this way and that then slumps down, eyes going dull, black blood pouring out. It’s dripping from my mouth and the bitter taste floods my system like adrenaline. I turn to the remaining head as it tries to awkwardly lug its dead half about. There’s no mercy for beasts like these. It lunges for me, pointed jaws stretched wide enough to crush my ribcage. I grab hold of each jaw. Panic flares through its red eyes as I don’t release it. I pull wider, wider, snap. The fountain of blood drenches tapestries, bibles, and Saints alike.

Outside the cries of the congregation have drawn more creatures. I run out to meet them with fury and rage. I cannot be stopped. Everywhere I look there is carnage, destruction and death. Everything I touch wilts and decays. I grin and laugh until there’s no one left. I stare up at the void in the sky and feel it caressing my skin. It wants me and I want it. Its whispers are shouts now, it yells to me across the ether and all I want is to answer it. I tear my eyes away but everywhere there is horror. Rivers of blood drip down into the gutters, body parts barely recognisable as human are strewn across the street like the remains of party poppers. I stare back up at the sky again, it’s so warm, so welcoming, so - right.

I shake my head and plunge my hand into my pocket, my fingers find the syringe but they also brush against something cold. My phone. Vee is always on her phone. I grasp it with hands covered in the void, it pulses and tugs at me, it calls to me. I sink to my knees clutching my phone, it doesn’t recognise my fingerprint as I try to unlock it. It doesn’t recognise my face either. In the reflection I am not me. I am no Saint. I am the devil and the world is mine. I can’t remember the password but I need to. The background is my favourite photo. If it is to be the last thing I see, I’d pick no other. We’re at the beach. Kye is building a sandcastle. Vee’s phone is in her bag forgotten as she carries a bucket of water for her brother. Mia is fiddling with a shell, her hand on my leg, a permanent smile on her face. I miss that smile, oh how I miss that smile. Something twists within me and it’s like I was being suffocated and the person has relaxed their hands. I can breathe again. The whispers are only whispers again.

I stare around, I’m not at the church anymore. The alley I’m in is dark and lonely, beneath me is a bed of black crystals. A spatter of gunfire sounds in the distance. I can hear someone crying but that’s it. I creep out and look up at the sky. The void has closed and glorious pink light is spreading from the horizon as the sun rises. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen - well, maybe after Mia’s smile. I stretch out my fingers feeling the warmth against them. Beneath the grime the spirals have receded and lay dormant ready to forever remind me of my sacrifice and my duty. I take a deep breath and rather than heading for the checkpoint I head straight towards Mia’s house.

It isn’t far, maybe that’s where I was heading before - before whatever happened happened. I freeze. The door is shattered, the bookcase has been splintered and there’s glass covering the floor. Fear threatens to constrict my throat.

‘Mia!’ I croak as I step through the chaos. I reach the basement door and it too is gone. I can’t do it. I can’t go down into the darkness - I’ll never come back again. I choke back a sob and there’s a crawling sensation in my veins like the void wriggling to take me. ‘No, no, no. Please,’ I whisper. With shaking hands I pull out my phone, I need to see them. I need to see them as I remember them. Please. The screen is broken, cracked and black. Void of all life. I can’t.

‘Tyler?’

My breath catches as I turn. I can barely see her smile for the tears in my eyes. I can’t move, I simply sit on the floor and cry. Vee and Kye are suddenly in my arms despite all the horrific things covering me and Mia just stands there smiling. Vee’s crying and Kye is too.

‘You don’t remember do you?’ Mia asks. I can hardly breathe let alone speak. ‘You came here. You saved us.’

Little do they know that it was they who saved me.