The Sign of Raphael (Rough Draft Novella)

Chapter 5

Anthony kicked the cover out of place, and they ran until they could no longer hear the automatic alarm that the damage had triggered. "We should be in the clear, I doubt the guards would pursue us, and even if they did they would have difficulty. We'll be on paved roads before they would catch us." Todd nodded, weary from the events of the day.

It was not long until they reached Anthony's car, sheltered under some trees and a tarp. Anthony set about fueling the vehicle. "Watch my back, just in case someone's coming." Todd stood still in the night, looking out past the trees. A dark figure jumped through it, causing him to recoil. Anthony reflexively turned from what he was doing as the last few drops of gasoline went into the fuel tank from the cans that had been left under the car, and turned to look into the night. "Were there eyes?" "No." Anthony tensed up more. "Get in the car." He turned the flashlight on his handgun on as he searched the woods, moving toward the driver's seat while scanning the forest with his light. He let out a sigh of relief as he got the engine going, and the car tore down the unused gravel road.

"Why would it matter if there were eyes?"

"Some animals, nighttime predators are what I'd expect to be here, but many other mammals and birds have things in their eyes. They're called tapeta lucida, little reflectors for night vision. It's what causes their eyes to show up in partial lighting like this. Humans don't have them, though some demons will grant a similar effect to their hosts. It might not have been looking for us, or it could be a person. Of course, it's just as likely that you saw a plant blown by the wind."

Anthony kept driving, ignoring the rain that constantly rippled on his windshield. Nothing like Europe, the France he had left to come join the Raphaelites here. There it was sunny all the time-or was that just his imagination? He sighed to himself, quietly enough that his companion did not notice the noise. Even though he was a soldier, it hadn't felt much like war when he was over there, since the victory had come before he had even laced up his boots. Still, he had gotten to see the world, and it was there that he had met the man who recruited him to the Raphaelites.

The rain let up as they drove into the clearing. The old fallout shelter in the center had been abandoned for years, sold by the government when threats of a nuclear holocaust seemed increasingly unlikely. A couple careful deals later and it served as a Raphaelite hideout without anyone being the wiser. A sedan parked outside told Anthony that Peter and Bethany had already arrived, having made it safely through the checkpoints. "They're here already. Grab the bag and let's head on in quick."

The trapdoor opened with a creaking, Anthony opened it the rest of the way with his foot; it swung up into the open position. As it was standing, the stone looked like a gravestone over an open grave, with stairs leading down into the ground. It closed after them as Anthony pulled a rope, becoming just another section of the sidewalk above. He motioned for Todd to hurry in the harsh glare of the lights. A vault door that looked not entirely unlike that of a refrigerator but on a massive scale stood before them. Anthony opened it with little difficulty, letting them into the bunker. He led Todd past the decontamination showers and into the control room, down warded hallways.

Peter and Bethany both looked at him. "Who's that?" she ventured.

"Just someone from Seattle. This is Todd, everyone," Anthony introduced his friend with a flowing gesture, intentionally too grand, then pointed to his allies "...and this is Peter, and that's Bethany."

"Can we trust him?" Peter's voice was even and measured, just as it always was, but it was rare to hear a question from his mouth. His face betrayed no emotion as he looked toward Todd with his eyes covered by sackcloth.

"I rescued him from possession, so we can." Anthony quickly defended his charge. "Plus, he helped me get out of town before the demons got a chance to devour me, so I'm willing to speak for him."

Peter and Bethany remained silent for a moment, but the woman's nod signaled their acceptance. "We need a plan. It won't be long before we're traced, and I'd like to head across the border well before that happens. Anthony, you'll be responsible for Todd, if he chooses to go with us. You know him best. Peter and I can find our own way. We have two vehicles, so it should work out fine that way."

Peter staggered as Bethany spoke, reaching for his side as if he had an ulcer bothering him. The two Raphaelites with him knew what that meant. Demons. Even Todd looked worried as the two reached for their weapons. The sound of the shelter opening again was cause for an egress deeper within the structure, as a howl came from a demon who had been disrupted by one of the wards and banished back to its eternal sufferings.

"We should be safe back here; they won't be able to cross the wards." Peter spoke reassuringly to Todd, while grabbing an assault rifle from a footlocker. The weapon was Russian, ineffective for most situations but its incredibly high caliber made it useful to fight almost anything, if you could keep it on target.

"Can you even see?"

Peter nodded affirmation as the other two Raphaelites took out their weapons; Bethany leveled a bolt action rifle while Anthony grabbed an almost absurdly large handgun from his bag.

"So if they can't get in, why the guns?"

"Cultists won't be stopped by the wards, and they could potentially undo them. Fortunately, we painted over them to make them harder to find, so only a few will be obvious. The ones that you see are only visible because your former possession changed your senses."

"Wait, former possession? Anthony, this is the sort of thing you tell us right off the bat, not just bring out at random times." Bethany shot her companion a glare for a split second, earning a sulky grimace.

"They've breached two of the wards." Peter spoke as if in a trance, the stress of scanning the wards weighing heavily on him. "Now they're past five."

Anthony tensed up a little. There were twenty-seven wards in all, but not all of them led to them-if the demons were headed straight for them, they would be there soon, within the next five minutes at this rate. Peter dropped into a prayer as the other Raphaelites dug in.

"What should I do?" Todd's question seemed as if a gunshot over Peter's murmured prayers.

"Pray."

"Does anyone else smell gas?"

Bethany's question echoed in the room. If the cultists had no way to reach their enemies, there was always an easier option. The fumes were just the herald of their plans; when they lit the fuel the entire bunker would be either burnt or smothered with smoke.

"Masks!"

Peter handed out a mask to each of his companions. He looked down at his bag and saw that it was empty, and shrugged.

"I'll be back."

The man stepped carefully down the stairs to the main room. The three others waited, listening to their own breath in their gas masks. A glow licked its way to the bottom of the stairwell as smoke began to pour in, and they knew what had happened.

"Peter!"

Anthony's cry rang distorted through his mask, hollow and metallic it bounced through the bunker. The smoke began to fill the air, and he felt the pressure changing in his ears. What a surprising way to die, not in the middle of a firefight, like he had always expected, but smothered through a gas mask when all the air was burnt away. His companions began to cough and choke, and he himself fell to the ground as his vision blurred, his final moments of consciousness greeted by the collapse of his companions, huddled together in the panic room in the oppressive heat of a bunker being burned.