Prologue
I watch from the back of the church, hiding in the shadows. Henry and Park drop the man onto the altar, his body thudding heavily against the granite. He looks at them, desperation welling up in his eyes like tears. Then the real tears come. Black, chunky liquid flows from his eyes, running down his cheeks and staining his collar. He begins to claw at his head, ripping and tearing the skin from his skull. He slowly raises his head, black blood flowing freely, and looks at Henry and Park standing at the foot of the altar. His eyes, now filled completely with blood, never blink. Dressed in white robes, they approach the altar and tie his hands behind his back. He doesn't struggle. He opens his mouth, now a shredded black maw, and begins to speak in an inhuman growl.
"Reve dna reve rof, yrolg eht dna rewop eht-"
Park takes a piece of cloth, makes the sign of the cross, and stuffs it into his mouth. He continues to speak, albeit fairly muffled.
They lay him face down on the slab and tie him down, looping ropes around and around and around and around. He begins to seize violently, body spasming and contorting in ways I didn't think was possible. They kneel on either side of the altar, eyes closed in prayer. I watch as torrents of red sweat pour from the man's bare torso and onto the ground. The silence of the church is broken only by the sound of his stilted, gargled choking and the sound of my heavy breathing. The two men begin to pray out loud, their strong voices a comfort for my terrified mind.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name."
He begins to spasm wildly now, as if some unseen force were shaking him like a ragdoll. His spine arches up and down, slamming him onto the slab again and again.
"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,"
He spits the cloth out, and starts wailing and screaming like an injured baby.
"On Earth as it is in heaven."
Something begins to move under his chest. The skin presses up and down, up and down, pulsing and pulling like plasma. Everytime his skin stretches, he screams louder, his wails becoming deeper and deeper each time.
"Give us this day our daily bread,"
His stomach bulges, blue veins swelling.
"And forgive us our trespasses."
The heavy slam of rain begins to shake the building.
"As we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation,"
The stained glass window above the altar depicting a crucified Christ shatters. The shrieks of rain and wind fall into the church, slamming the tiny building with the force of a hurricane. His body begins to smoke.
"But deliver us from evil."
The skin around his chest stretches ungodly far.
"Our Father, who art in heav-" His chest rips open, bloody chunks of skin and muscle flying in every direction. The wind dies, the rain ceases, the screams cease. The cries of a newborn infant fill the now utterly silent church. Sitting atop his now decimated body is a child. The child flails its small, weak limbs, bawling for the comfort of another.
"Dear God." They both gasp. Park stands, and takes the bloody, dirty child into his arms. Henry frees the dead man of his bonds and lifts the body off of the altar and onto the ground.
"Henry I can't. It's just a chil-"
"You must." Henry snaps. "It is no child."
Park nods quickly, though the anguish remains on his face. Taking it from Park, Henry wraps the child in the same cloth the man spit out, and sets it on the altar. The child begins to wail louder. The men step back, cross themselves, and turn to leave.
"Wait." Henry says, running back to the altar. He drags the burst body of the man down the steps and along the aisle. A trail of chunky, black and red blood smears across the white tiles. I duck down behind a pew, clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle my breathing. I wait until I hear the doors of the church slam to run to the child. It reaches out to me, but I hesitate before picking it up. It wails louder, sending a shudder through my eardrums. It rolls onto all fours, arching its back until its ribs violently protrude. I step back as the child shakes itself free from the cloth like a dog.
Get the child. A voice whispers through the church. Unwilling to touch the child's slimey, blood covered body, I remove my cloak and wrap it around the child. I cradle it in my arms, looking into its perfect, almost angelic face.
Hurry. They're coming.
Suddenly aware of how much danger the child is in, I rush into the priest's chambers, unlatching the window leading into the warm summer night. I shove the bundle outside, following closely behind. Sitting next to the window is my pack, just where I left it. I unwrap the child and shove it inside. Just as I pull the pack onto my back, I hear the slam of the church doors. Hurriedly donning my cloak, I take off into the night.
