"Deacon Ash"

Chapter 21: The Last

On the third day, I had opened my sleep crusted eyes and found myself on my back on the kitchen floor, looking up at the blurry ceiling as I awakened from my intoxicated sleep.

The night had been rough on me. My body had stiffened overnight. My arms and legs were at ridiculous angles as if I had come to a sudden stop in the middle of making a perverted snow angel. I was physically taxed from the hellhound's bashing and battering.

I was in no hurry to rise from the floor. I had stayed grounded, curious as to what time it was. I didn't know the exact hour, but I was certain that I had slept away the morning and through the entire afternoon. Although I had no proof, I sensed that it was late and night had almost fallen. I rolled onto my side and pulled my cell phone from my pocket to check the time on the LCD and confirm my suspicions. It was seven-thirty pm. I slid the cell phone back in my pocket, disappointed. Apparently I had wasted the evening as well.

I had moved closer to the third night, closer to my doom. Other elements of the certainty of my hideous predicament weighed down on my mind like an anvil, pressing reality into my thoughts. I breathed as I took into consideration all the elements of my unfortunate state of affairs.

I had been blinded.

My breath had been taken.

The storm had grown louder.

My hand throbbed harder under the bandage and had swollen beyond reasonably normal.

My shoulder hurt and to make matters worse I was disgusted with myself knowing that Deacon Ash had healed me to delay the inevitability of his sinister agenda.

The demon would return for the rest of my flesh and Chaos for my soul.

What would happen to my soul?

What would become of my family?

I longed for a drink.

After what seemed like forever to pick myself up off of the floor, I was seated at the kitchen table reaching for the hazy cylindrical object that could be none other than the bottle from Deacon Ash. I had reached for it and learned that my depth perception was also gone. I probed with my arm, extending and retracting until I had the bottle in my hand.

I had grown weaker. The bottle seemed as if it were a twenty-five pound weight as I lifted it to fill my glass. I was still buzzing and figured that was a plus because it wouldn't take me long to be where I wanted to be.

One, two, three, four glasses later...I think...I had delved into that renowned state of intoxication. I had been pouring a fifth glass...I think...when I heard a ringing sound. I cocked my head, listening at the familiar noise. Where had I heard that noise before? My hand shot to my pocket after my brain told me that it was my cell phone. I leaned back in my chair so I could fish it out of my pocket. Unfortunately, it required some additional time to understand that the bulging bandage on my hand prevented me from digging deep enough into my pocket to remove it. I ended up having to reach across with my opposite hand for it. Awkward, but I succeeded.

I flipped it open and looked at the LCD. It was from home. I had expected some trickery but answered the call anyway.

"Hello," I said.

Much to my relief, it was Amanda calling.

"Hi," she said.

I was ecstatic to have heard her voice. I had let out such an exasperated sigh that I nearly fainted.