Kitabı oku: «Angel Of The Seventh Day», sayfa 3

"So where do they come from?"

Silence covers the room. No one knows the answer to this question; he explains to them again that the pack just appeared, out of nowhere, and rushed to its feast. They have seen this, he says, with their own eyes.

"Those things come from hell," inserts the hitherto silent soldier.

No one disagrees. His explanation is as credible as any other.

Milan read about other dimensions, parallel worlds and portals a long time ago. Hell as one of the dimensions fits in well, but he rejects the thoughts that don't make sense.

"Command believes they are of alien origin, but they don't know how things show up on Earth," the other soldier is more rational in his speculations.

"What happened at the tollbooths?" Milan is tireless. The soldiers show signs of mental exhaustion, but the gas station staff do not care, their need to find out something burns in them.

The soldier continues his lecture:

"We got to the tollbooth. A company of military police cleared the way for us, that much we got over the radio. They had several engagements with the enemy and were about ten kilometers ahead of us. Then we came to the tollbooth. There they were waiting for us and all but one was like him," the soldier pointed to Zoran, who was tied to a chair with a bloody head and still unconscious.

"The whole troop had this crazy look in their eyes and they all got white hair. At the tollbooth something happened to them, madness overcame them, they started shooting at us. The men in the armored vehicles were dumbfounded, they were ordered not to return fire. The damn generals had no idea what was going on. But the others jumped out of the trucks to safety and started firing when they saw that many of our comrades were dying. Over a hundred of them remained lying there, all from the military police, most from our unit and many from the infantry."

The soldier finally breaks down, tears streaming down his cheeks, and no matter how hard the lad tries to control himself, he cannot. His body shakes. The other two soldiers sit down. The surviving terror has taken its toll.

Milan expected this reaction. He signals to the others to leave the soldiers alone with the horror they have experienced. Only now is the awareness of death experienced and avoided spreading through their young minds. Before, this realization had no time to overwhelm them, they were like automatons concerned with their survival.

He is well aware of this aftermath of the body and mind. He has experienced it himself, back in the day, and knows that natural selection takes place with them. Either they become whining cowards who run and hide until they go berserk, or they harden and remain at peace with reason. Milan knows what will happen too, he's sure of the latter.

He approaches the bound sergeant and lifts his head. Zoran is breathing steadily in deep unconsciousness and the blood is no longer dripping. The wound is not deep, but he knows he has a concussion. His hair is completely white, he has never seen anything like it and believes that only severe and unimaginable horror causes such a condition.

In a moment, an idea comes to him and he proclaims:

"I go into Cvetković's office and look at the surveillance monitors, there has to be video. I need to see what happened to him out there while he was alone. Someone sit by the window and keep watch!"

Jelena follows him. She was often busy in her overtime with the accounting in this office:

"I have the key so you won't break down the door!"

He considers for a moment. "The office is above the store, in a building next to the restaurant that forms a right angle. You would have to cross the open space between the gas pumps, the moonlight illuminating the entire area. The sergeant was out there alone, that's why this happened to him."

"Come on, from now on no one will be alone!" he resolutely grabs the pistol strapped to his belt and opens the door. The soldier who informed him of what had happened jumps up, wipes the wet spots from his face, grabs his rifle and says resolutely:

"I'm going along!"

Milan looks at him. Despair has left him, certainty has returned to his eyes. Traces of fear are still visible, and as he has always believed, fear is a good ally.

"Okay, bring your lamp."

Stevan opens the door and remains in guard. The three make their way across the plateau. The moon is enough to light their way. Cautiously, they hurry to the store, looking around every moment. Detonations with orange reflections can still be heard, the army's activity making them feel safe.

Cautiously they enter the gloomy shop. The soldier does not light the lamp, he raises his gun and signals the two to calm down. After making sure there is no danger from the darkness, he lights the flashlight, smothering its light with his fingers. Behind the cash register, he grabs a few packs of cigarettes from the shelf and stuffs them into the pockets of his camouflage uniform. Milan is liking the soldier more and more, thinking ahead about seemingly insignificant things; people can last a few days without food, but not a few hours without fags.

They climb the steps and the soldier releases the light of the lamp. There are no windows on the stairs, they are safe.

"What's your name?" Milan whispers.

"Vladimir, everyone calls me Vlad," the soldier answers briefly, his weapon still pointed at the circle of light from the lamp.

"I am Jelena and this is Milan. I am glad that you are with us," she says and unlocks the door of the office. Only the light of the monitor illuminates the room. Jelena did not fail to close the curtains on the window and before that took a look at the highway. Milan plays the footage and finds the moment when the sergeant stood alone in front of the armored vehicle.

"For God's sake, what is this?" Jelena is horrified, her eyes fixed on the screen with a hypnotic stare.

A human-like being with a bumpy body appears in the frame and approaches Zoran, who is leaning against the vehicle. No sound is heard, but it is obvious that they are talking briefly. The freak approaches Zoran and embraces him. A short time later, he falls to the ground and turns to smoke. The sergeant makes his way to the restaurant.

Milan turns off the monitor:

"We've seen enough. Let's go back."

"What did we see?" "Jelena asks, still horrified by the unbelievable scene on the screen.

She gets no answer.

Together they walk back to the inn, and though their minds are occupied with recording, they don't forget to be careful. A few meters from the entrance, a deafening sound reaches them, breaking through the landscape. They raise their heads and look up at the sky.

Two gunships chase a huge outline into the night sky. Their searchlights only briefly illuminate the flying behemoth as it twists and turns to escape them. The pilots don't spare the guns, wasting the marker ammunition like fireworks. Occasionally the monster's outline takes on frightening contours, two pairs of wings resemble dragonflies and allow the behemoth enviable maneuvering abilities.

The serpentine body defies the laws of aerodynamics with its coils, its huge tail swings and tries to overthrow the pursuers. Despite the skill of the pilots and countless hits, the behemoth still fights back. Its destruction seems impossible.

Maria, George, Stevan and the other two soldiers come out of the building and watch the battle in the sky. The lighting from the pub casts a large cube of light onto the plateau. Milan is not happy, but he can't blame them. The battle they are witnessing is as awesome as it is unimaginable; you could only see something like this in the movies. Until now.

"Shut the door!" Milan shouts at them. The roar of the engine swallows his words, yet one of the soldiers closes the door.

Suddenly the tail of the monster hits the rotor. The sound of the engine changes, the aircraft tilts and crashes to the ground about three hundred yards from them. The torn off arm of the propeller whistles over the complex and crashes to the ground not far from the junkyard. The observers are too preoccupied with the skirmish to be alarmed, and are unaware that the entire collision is taking place above their heads within a mile and a half radius.

The monster seizes the opportunity and, with a furious roar that drowns out the noise of the second helicopter, lunges at its fallen prey lying helpless on the highway. The rage expressed by the monster is immeasurable. Milan prays that the pilots did not survive the crash. The pilots of the other helicopter attack the beast, which scatters the pieces of the crashed plane with its beak. Their volley fire is accurate, each projectile hits and two fired missiles find their target. Finally, the beast falls and dies with a pitiful howl.

The helicopter that emptied the arsenal rises into the air and sets course for the base.

"My God, look!" Maria shouts, pointing at the moon. A swarm of similar monsters sets off in pursuit of the helicopter. There are about ten of them and it is clear to all that the other cannot escape.

"May God help them. Let's go in, quickly!" Milan commands, and everyone hurries. Everyone realizes that they will be discovered by one of the flying monsters, and the fury with which the launched device was torn apart intensifies their fear.

They lock the door and stare at each other.

"What was that?" Maria asks, this time reining in her hysteria. Her mind rearranges itself and accepts the impossible conditions.

"Hell has opened, that's it," says the soldier who advocates this theory. The composure with which he lights a cigarette shows Milan that he believes in what he has said and has come to terms with it. Horror no longer dominates the young mind.

They'll be fine, Milan concludes.

"What's your name?" he asks him.

"Jovan."

"Why do you think hell opened up, do you believe in God?"

"I don't believe in anything anymore, brother. These creatures are not of this world."

"And why hell?"

"Because that's exactly how I imagined the creatures from hell."

The lights suddenly go out.

"I'm surprised the power has lasted this long. Give me a light, someone, I know where the candles are," Maria's voice is heard in the darkness. The light from the flashlight flickers as Maria walks towards the counter. As she lights the candles, the bound sergeant groans and wakes from his unconsciousness. With two steps Milan is in front of him, grabbing him by the hair and lifting his head. His face is bloodshot and his eyes are closed, yet he tries to free his hands.

"What was out there, with the armored vehicle?" Milan asks, ignoring his suffering.

Finally, Zoran opens his eyes and stares at him, finding neither reason nor humanity in the sergeant's eyes. Then he opens his mouth and answers in a changed, deep voice:

"On the seventh day, everyone will die!"

Silence spreads through the room. People stare silently, caught between fear, despair and disbelief.

Milan repeats the question and pulls Zoran's hair even harder. The sergeant spits in his face and starts laughing maniacally.

Vlad, driven by rage evident in his face, approaches, takes his rifle and pushes him back into unconsciousness with the butt. Milan is not angry at this action, he saw terrible outlines in Zoran's eyes; his gaze was like a curtain that he did not want to open, but behind this curtain he could sense a horror previously unknown, the horror that follows death, and for the first time since the beginning of this incomprehensibility he feels helplessness, horror and fear.

He shakes his head to clear those poisons from himself and suggests they gather around the table and figure out what to do next. What he saw behind the curtains of Zoran's gaze he keeps to himself. He doesn't want to scare them any more than they already are.

Maria and Georg emerge from the darkness of the kitchen and surprise them with freshly brewed coffee. The pleasant smell lures them to the table, cigarettes are lit and people make themselves comfortable on the chairs. Only puzzled eyes move from one to the other. The questions find patience in them as they can't find answers here, but they can go in search of them.

"What was on the video?" Jovan breaks the silence and takes a cup of coffee. Vlad tells him, carefully choosing the words, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't ignore the truth Jovan presented, the truth about the opening of hell.

Stevan continues with the questions, not allowing Jovan to repeat the story of hell:

"So these animals appear suddenly, out of nowhere, just like that, as far as I understand you?"

"Yes, that's how we are informed," Vladimir answers and adds, "a window opens and the monsters come out like crazy".

"Windows?"

"Yes, like windows or doors, in various widths and heights. And mostly in front of populated places. We've been hearing it on frequencies we shouldn't be listening to. They don't mean much to us anyway. So we went out with the battalion, outside the town several huge windows opened up, the job was to destroy anything that came out of there."

After a hearty sip of coffee, he continues:

"To me it looks like portals to another dimension, I've seen it on TV, how we share space with another world that is on a parallel plane or something like that."

Finally, Jovan gets a word in edgewise:

"Dimension, parallel, hell, does it matter what you call it? What matters is what comes out of it, and folks, all that comes out of it is disaster! I call it hell!"

"All right, brother, hell or no, I don't care!" Nenad calms him down. Milan doesn't intervene; attentively he follows the soldier's conversation. He likes the analytical attitude of these young minds, and it seems that Stevan and George accepted the circumstances, like Maria, by making coffee. Jelena, too, has proved adequate in the shop, drawing the curtains in the office. Satisfied that no trouble in the form of panic or despair comes from this small group, he speaks:

"Listen up. We should cover our bases here. This place isn't the best place to hide, the storefront's huge, and you should..."

"Why are we hiding? Our people are dying and we're sitting here like cowards! There's a fight on, we've got to radio the Major and join the fight!" Nenad interrupts him.

Vlad gives him a look of incomprehension and replies sharply:

"We're still an army, and we have orders. As long as I'm corporal, there'll be no change in duty. Sit down and wait for orders!"

"I know, Private Brother, but it's hard for me, no one's coming yet, they must be short of people, you know what the situation is, many have fled!"

Maria offers him a bottle of liquor and says in a soft tone:

"Nenad, isn't it? Look, it's hard for all of us and we all have someone somewhere. We don't know what's out there and it's night, the morning will be wiser than the evening!"

Nenad accepts the bottle, takes a big swig, passes it on to Vlad and replies:

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"I can understand you. Milan, what did you want to tell us?"

Milan accepts the bottle from Vladimir and continues the proposal:

"We'd better fortify ourselves. The gate to the junkyard isn't locked, and this window isn't secure either. What is that thing out there? They didn't have vehicles like this in my day."

"Lazar 5, armored personnel carrier, abbreviated MTW. It is equipped with a 7.62 machine gun, a 20-millimeter cannon, an anti-tank missile launcher, a reconnaissance drone, mine protection, radiation protection and a radar and is named after the medieval prince Lazar Hrebeljanovic," Vladimir answers with a touch of pride.

"Does the Lazar have a ramp in the rear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Does the radar pick up bigger beasts?"

"Given the right conditions."

"Then I suggest we park the MTW lengthwise along the shop window with an open ramp towards the front door and put someone inside to guard with radar on. Feasible?"

"Of course."

The soldiers are interested, they find meaning in the proposal.

"And in the back?" Nenad asks.

"The junkyard is surrounded by a new wall that adjoins the complex. The building can only be entered through the front door or through the kitchen.

"At least it's something you can do. Go!" Vlad orders and the soldiers jump up.

"We need fuel!"

Stevan also stands up and offers:

"There's tons of it, but it has to be done by hand, there's no electricity. I'm going with you!"

Milan and George set out to close the large barred gate that leads between the buildings to the junkyard. As they lock it with a heavy chain, they hear the Lazar start up. The sound of its powerful engine is barely audible, resembling the muffled rush of a waterfall in the distance. The engineers have done a good job, Milan concludes, checking the strength of the two-and-a-half-meter fence. After making sure it's locked, they head to the MTW.

Vlad is keeping watch near the Lazar. Nenad and Jovan are inside the vehicle, monitoring the surroundings with the infrared system. Suddenly Vladimir's radio sounds:

"A creature on the right, fifty metres away. It's approaching us, slowly."

Milan breaks out in a cold sweat. He turns and looks at the door in disbelief. It's open again, and the dim light from the candles is enough to attract the creatures. Like the roar of the engine.

He draws the gun and looks at Vladimir. Stevan, with his hands in the shaft, is unaware of the threat. He pumps violently, trying to finish as quickly as possible.

Vlad grabs his radio and answers. Milan fears in vain that the boys will release fire, exposing their position, they don't know how many of these monsters are lurking around.

"How big is it?" Vlad whispers into his radio.

"Big as a horse," comes the answer.

"Run that thing down. If that doesn't work, use the cannon."

Vlad removes the hose from the tank opening while the engine gets louder. The Lazar rolls away and drives into the darkness. Nenad presses the gas and the vehicle accelerates.

Stevan raises his head, he knows something is happening, and all three of them stare at the small red lights on the rear ramp of the MTW. Shortly thereafter, a dull thud is heard, followed by a terrifying howl that fades into grunts.

"Looks like they finished him off ," Milan says quietly, and Stevan, realizing what's happening, asks:

"How many are there?"

"Just one, for now."

The arrival of the Lazar announces itself with a barely perceptible hum. After a few seconds, it emerges from the darkness and stops next to the gas pump. The ramp opens and a dim light from within illuminates the rope at the end of which the corpse of the run-over monster is tied. Nenad walks down the ramp, followed by Jovan. They turn on the flashlights and forget caution for a moment. The whole group now shines their lights on the monster.

"This thing almost looks like a rhino," Stevan says with awe and continues, "look at its teeth."

The lights of the lamps glide over the head of the beast. Its strong jaws are set with a row of thin and sharp teeth, and on its snout sits four thin and long horns. The stocky neck is covered with scales that extend over the entire body. It has three pairs of legs and a huge tail that tapers and ends in a point. The wounds from the impact of the Lazar are visible.

"He noticed us when we broke through the highway fence. This thing stood quietly in the middle of the roadway with his head up as if he was listening or sniffing. Out of surprise he barely moved and we rammed and ran him over, I turned and rammed him again. Jovan had the idea to tie him up, drag him along and examine him. They're not very smart," Nenad finishes his short report, kicks the corpse and unties the rope from the monster's leg.

"So, these creatures are terrorizing the world?" Stevan wonders.

"You forgot the fliers, and they say there are hundreds of different species and all sizes. This one seems to be just a weak specimen. What is it?" Vladimir replies in amazement, illuminating the structure on the monster's back that stands out against the corpse.

"Amazing, that's a saddle!" Jovan is convinced.

The others from the restaurant join in and stare spellbound at the dead beast. Finally, Vlad takes out a bayonet and buries it up to the hilt in the eye of the monster.

"What's safe is safe. I wonder who or what has ridden this creature."

Milan frowns, he shouldn't have asked that question.

Ignorance is a walnut shell in calm water. Milan's water is agitated; he has seen the rider on the monitor in Cvetković's office.

"Let's go. We've been out too long."

* * *

Gabriel gives full throttle, and the small car accelerates on the highway. The thunder can be heard from afar, and Michael sulks in the passenger seat. After a while he says:

"I can't believe you tore the muffler off just to make that much noise."

Gabriel does not hear him. He is constantly turning the steering wheel left and right to avoid imaginary obstacles. The vehicle sways dangerously and threatens to veer out of control.

"What did you say, I can't hear?" he replies, to which Michael adds in a stronger voice, "and of all the cars you found that wretched Yugo?"

"Modesty, my brother, modesty, that is our virtue!" comes the driver's reply. He grabs the gear stick and tries to shift into fifth gear.

"This clunker doesn't have the fifth!" Unbelievable!"

Michael waves his hand, grabs a fag and offers one to his brother. Suddenly the front of the vehicle starts to shake and the Yugo 45 goes out of control.

"The steering shaft has broken out!" Gabriel is thrilled and Michael cheers with joy "Geronimo!"

The vehicle skidded, hit the crash barrier, rolled over several times and came to rest on its roof.

The two angels pull themselves out of the wreckage unharmed through the shattered windshield. While wiping the broken glass from him, Michael scolds:

"What's this circus with the exhaust, have you lost your mind, brother? How are we supposed to go on now, the hordes are lurking and we'll lose time! Here's your meekness!"

Gabriel stares at the wreckage and says, laughing:

"Calm down, man. We'll make it in time. Now you pick the vehicle and give me a cigar, mine fell out during the thunder ball. It was an unforgettable experience, the rollover at one hundred and forty, admit it!"

Michael has to admit. He can't deny that he didn't enjoy the stunt spectacle Gabriel was preparing. He ties his long hair, tousled by the accident, into a ponytail, takes cigarettes out of his jacket and lights them for both of them:

"Grab the bag of beer from the wreckage and let's go. The courier arrives soon and we must hurry so that the five chaplains do not wait longer than necessary."

Gabriel does as he is asked and they set off on a walk along the deserted highway. After the second cigarette, their chat is interrupted by a bright light in the night sky. Tiny is the beam of light that descends upon them, but sufficient to illuminate the area all around. Eventually it floats down to head height of the two and transforms into a young angel of the lowest rank. A slender, sexless body, shining like a pearl, with huge wings gathered at his back. His eyes are silver and his head is bald, as apprentices should be.

"Well, where have you been so far?" Michael asks rudely. He has never had tolerance for students, he believes that the iron is forged while it is hot.

The young angel drops to one knee:

"A thousand pardons, my lord. It was hard to find these people. They were hiding in different places and it took time to accept my existence and understand my words!"

Gabriel grabs his arm and pulls him up:

"Come on, get up and stay off formalities. We are on Earth and the apocalypse is in full swing. Take a form and act natural."

The apprentice transforms into a young man with short black hair. He has an envelope in his hand, which he hands to Gabriel, and looks fearfully at Michael, whose gaze is fearful and penetrating.

Gabriel grabs his arm and pulls him up:

"Come on, get up and stay off formalities. We are on Earth and the apocalypse is in full swing. Take a form and act natural."

The apprentice turns into a young man with short black hair. Gabriel takes the envelope he has brought with him. The young angel has no desire to raise his eyes to Michael, whose gaze is reverent and penetrating.

"Whose disciple are you, angel?" the question echoes through the night.

The young man, still not looking up, answered, "Mr. Serafins".

"No wonder you're so stiff," Gabriel laughs and opens the envelope. Michael approaches and the two flip through the pages together.

"Wonderful figures," Michael is being sarcastic, "but they'll do the trick. Are these guys on the move?"

"That's them, sir. They're on their way to the appointed place, but it's uncertain if they'll get there. I saw the hordes and I don't think..."

"They will arrive," Michael replies shortly.

"Fear is a good ally," Gabriel adds and takes a beer out of his pocket, presses it into the young angel's hand and offers him a cigarette:

"Light your cigarette and drink your beer!"

"My lord, it's against the rules, I can't!"

"I command you. Show disobedience and you will feel my wrath!"

The young angel is torn between his instruction, Michael's piercing gaze, and humility. Nevertheless, he accepts the cigarette and the beer, draws in the smoke, winces and soothes the cough with a big gulp from the can.

"That's the spirit. When you're in Rome, act like a Roman," Gabriel starts laughing and Michael finally gives up being strict and joins in the laughter.

"What's your name?" Michael asks in a somewhat milder tone and restrains his laughter.

"I haven't gotten one yet, but Mr. Serafin calls me Tulip!"

Michael and Gabriel stared at each other for a few moments, only to giggle loudly again. The young angel is embarrassed and looks to the ground. He has heard all kinds of stories about these archangels, about their heroic deeds, but also the violation of discipline and law that push the Lord's mercy to the extreme limits and beyond.

"Serafin is very resourceful, he always has been! Don't be ashamed. You're one of us now. We'll call you Luigi."

"Has your sword tasted the blood of a demon?" Michael adds.

Puzzled, he looks up:

"No, my lord. It's still early and Mr. Serafin said..."

"And I'll tell you this. You'll stay with us until you stick your sword in that demon. And then, if you prove yourself worthy, you stick it in a demon! Drink the ale, Luigi! How did Serafin let you go?"

It takes a few moments for the apprentice to understand the meaning of Michael's words. His job was simply to pick a few bad priests and order them to come to a certain place, tell both archangels about it, and return to the First Sphere where the angels dwell. He worries what the Lord Serafin will say, and he can't even imagine what it means to stick a sword into a demoness.

Are all the stories whispered through the First Sphere true, is there indeed a place where masters occasionally descend to indulge in physical pleasures with demon daughters?" Still, one thought makes him happy, the thought that he will finally use his sword and send a demon back to where it belongs. For thousands of years he has patiently studied and prepared. Suddenly, he has the honor of assisting the famed Archangels and gets the opportunity to sully his sword with the blood of an unholy one. His friends, the learners, will also rejoice. He reins in his vanity and pride, but this endeavor is not successful.

"He has been given a task, my lord," Luigi replies, finishing the can in one gulp and inhaling the cigarette smoke again. The fear of these gentlemen gradually gives way, but humility remains.

"Very good, so you like beer. Take this bag and carry it. If you feel thirsty, you are free to drink," Michael orders and turns to his brother:

"What kind of circus performers do we have here?"

Gabriel, thoughtful, flips open the pages from the cover. He frowns more and more, which is very uncharacteristic for him:

"We have two who try to seduce every woman in the village, even married ones, under the pretext of divine comfort and mercy. We also have a gambler who cheats, even the poor are not sacred to him, and we also have an infidel who became a priest only for the sake of prestige and money. And now watch out, we have one who loves children, especially boys."

Michael is overwhelmed with anger. Fornication and vice he hardly forgives, the jokers who call themselves orthodox priests, but children certainly not. Gabriel shares his opinion, but his brother, unlike him, masks his anger and hatred for these freaks. There will be no mercy for them in the office of St. Peter, he will personally see to it, despite the fact that Peter himself is sharp on the issue. He will use special connections to make sure that these jokers burn coal in the boiler room of hell forever, without a single break for centuries.

"Luigi, you made a proper selection, we are satisfied. These clowns will serve as bait and be sacrificed."

"Bait, sir?"

"Yeah, bait. Demons like to possess them. A bunch of priests in one place will be irresistible to them, and we don't have time to hunt them down one by one. Our schedule's full. So, let's go."

Three angels, illuminated by the moon, stride along the highway. They chat casually, make jokes and drink. The youngest, Luigi, listens to their stories with fascination and pride, and his love for the archangels grows more and more.