The Land After Tomorrow (Completed)

Chapter 23: Inside the Demon

WARNING: THIS SECTION CONTAINS SUICIDE AND VIOLENCE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EMOTIONALLY UNABLE TO HANDLE THIS SECTION. 

The leaves drooped around them while the rain weighed and splattered onto them. Darkness loomed within them. Their knees were sinking into the mud squishing up against a watery mixture. Voices could be heard from in between the trees and darkness that surrounded them. The thunder cracked in the sky dousing out the voices that could be heard. The wind screamed into their ears. Within the palm of one, they carried and held death. Grasped between his finger and palm, he held a rifle that was aimed and intended to harm. Sweat seeped from his palms onto the weapon. He looked into the eyes of the man that whispered next to him.

"There he is," he whispered staring into the darkness. Whispers up ahead grew louder, and laughter echoed between the trees of a girl. The man stood up next to him placing his palm onto his shoulder. He peered closer towards the laugh that echoed, "There she is." He turned to face the soul that held the rifle in between his hands, "Do it. Shoot him."

He looked up into his father's eyes gazing into a sight of darkness. He shook his head pleading with his eyes like a child. He was frightened. "I can't," he trembled.

His father turned his head with eyes that drilled into his soul. "What did you say?" he spited in between his teeth.

"I.." he tried to say.

"No," he smiled. "You will shoot him. You will because I told you so and he has your sister, my daughter in his grasp. Do you really want to give up on your sister?" he pressured.

"No, sir," he replied with the darkness seeping into his eyes like a trance. The gun was aimed towards Ian who seemed to be staring back out towards him. His fingers trembled along the trigger and before he was about to fire, his father tried to grab the gun. A crack of thunder ringed throughout his ears or what he thought was thunder. He looked back to where he was aiming and heard the cries echoing throughout the night. The cries screamed within his head as he looked upon what he had just committed. His father grabbed his arm leading him away from the sight of peril. He fumbled over roots falling into puddles of mud. He scrambled trying to get back up, but everything was a blur. He could hear them screaming his name. He could hear her screams calling out to him. He knew what he had done, and it was because of the man that stood in front of him. He had become him.

He laid in the puddle of mud letting it soak into the fabric of his clothes. It was cold as it brushed up against him. His hands supported his upper body, so that his head wouldn't drown in the puddles. The mud slid underneath his weight. The rain continued to patter on top of him and soaking into his hair. Worms squirmed about on the surface enjoying the soft mud. He felt the tears stream down his face dropping into the puddle below him. He started to come to the realization of whom he had become.

"Get going boy!" his father yelled behind him.

"My name is Caleb," he whispered. He continued to lie there defeated by the conscious within him. He rested the side of head into the water that surrounded him. The right side of his face submerged into the water. His mouth was just barely touching the puddle. The wind rustled his hair feeling a chill within.

His father returned towards him looming over his helpless body. "Get up!" he demanded. Caleb said nothing. He didn't even react to the voice that screamed above him. "I said get up!" he screamed again.

Caleb turned his head just slightly so that he could see his father's eyes, "No."

His father reached for him. His hand grabbed the back of his shirt lifting him off from the puddle that submerged his body. "I SAID. Get up," he yelled into his face. The warmth from his breath hit the surface of his face. The only part of his body that held warmth. His father grabbed the back of his neck pushing him along through the depth of the woods. He stumbled over roots and branches, but his father refused to let go. By the time they had reached their camp, Caleb's neck was covered in bruises and his clothes were soaked dripping with water.