Demonica (14 page)

18

Quarantine

Mr. Garrison screamed. His usual professional tone was replaced by a sound that was shrill and desperate. By the time Bill finally pulled his head away, blood was dripping from his clenched teeth. And gushing from Mr. Garrison’s open wound.

Bill was chewing.

Two football-padded teens had already broken from their ranks. Flying across the gym, they tackled Bill to the floor. His body hit the surface with a resounding
smack
. Had Bill not just taken a cannibalistic bite out of my geometry teacher, I might have felt sorry for him.

Those eyes… I still couldn’t pull my memory away from those white, bloodshot eyes. I couldn’t wait to tell Dante that I was right, and he was wrong.

Bill was definitely a Demon.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!” said Kelly with all the eloquence of a machine gun.

The entire gymnasium went batshit. Gasping. Screaming. Students bolted up from their seats, some pushing their way through the crowds for a better look.

“Everyone, remain calm,” said Principal Marion who had barely even flinched from her normal authoritativeness. “Stay where you are. Do not come any closer.”

The crowds settled in about the same way that a mushroom cloud settles after the nuclear blast.

What was Bill thinking? I mean, from a Demon perspective, of course. Just biting someone like that, only to get tackled? Though my view had been largely obscured, I could still make out the two football players pinning him to the floor.

Was
he really a Demon? Wouldn’t a Demon put up more of a fight?

Like much of the student body, I abandoned my seat. Fought my way to the front of the crowds. Fortunately, my matchstick frame was able to squeeze past the human obstacle course. By the time I emerged on the other side, a third football player had ripped off his jersey, wrapping it tight around Mr. Garrison’s forearm. He screamed even louder with the sudden pressure.

It was Eli. A cross hung across his shirtless chest that was
waaaaay
too built for his own good. I mean, unless Christianity was suddenly about seducing innocent bystanding girls with rippling pectoral muscles and chiseled abs. Jesus Christ!

Two campus security guards arrived on the scene. The other two football players hastily backed away as the guards closed in on Bill, snatching him by each arm. Though his eyes had returned to normal, Bill’s blood-stained mouth was pulled into a sick smile. Without wasting a moment, the security guards dragged him out of the gymnasium.

“Somebody call an ambulance,” said a teacher.

Mr. Garrison had collapsed on the floor. I stepped closer and could barely see him between the circling crowd. He was gasping and wheezing, twitching and squirming. The guy could have been having a heart attack or stroke for all I knew.

Multiple cell phones were withdrawn and verbal chaos ensued.

“I can’t get a signal.”

“Me either.”

“What the hell?”

One student raised his phone high as if a signal might be in arm’s reach.

I glanced back for Bill and the security guards, but they had already disappeared out the doors. I quickly decided that wherever Bill was going, I needed to go too.

I took a few cautious steps away from the chaos before bolting for the exit. The hallway forked in both directions. However, I knew that the security office was by the entrance, and the first thing these guards would probably want to do was put Bill in handcuffs. Although a Hannibalesque muzzle might have been more practical.

Breaking into a sprint, I followed the hallway to the entrance. What exactly I planned on doing when I caught up with them, I had no clue. Better to be safe than sorry, I figured. The most important thing was keeping an eye on Bill. And so help me, if he tried eating anyone else, I would decapitate the bastard without blinking.

Hello, anger management issues. Long time, no see. Good thing I wasn’t a desensitized sociopath or anything.

As I rounded the hallway corner, I froze mid-step.

The security guards had been easily side-tracked from their office. From where I stood, the main hallway became a straight shot to the glass entryway doors.

Dozens of police lights flashed ominously from the other side of the glass.

I blinked, unconsciously considering the possibility that this might be a figment of my imagination. From where I stood, I could make out the several armed men in uniforms, all pointing guns at the entryway from a distance. It looked like something from a movie. The security guards stood awestruck, barely maintaining a firm grip on Bill. Though his back was turned to me, I imagined Bill’s usual bored and half-stoned look, unchanging. After a long pause, the security guards frantically approached the doors, dragging Bill along.

“Stop right there,” said a harsh voice from a megaphone. “Do not come any closer.”

Both guards halted uncertainly. In desperation, one of them yelled back, “There’s been an attack. We have an injured man inside.”

“Step away from the doors,” said the officer with the megaphone. “This is a quarantined zone now.”

Quarantine?

My heart stopped. Suddenly, I remembered all too clearly the government agent at the hospital. He had said something about a quarantine.

A sudden uneasy thought caused me to glance up. The gentle hum of a security camera broke the silence, its lens directed at me.

The brand new security cameras... Holy shit. Had a quarantine been planned all along?

“Did you hear me?” said the security guard. He took a few steps closer and dragged Bill with him. “There’s a man bleeding to death in here!”

The second guard, also holding Bill, was forced along unwillingly. “Hey, Joe, I don’t like this.”

“Come any closer and we’ll be forced to shoot,” said the officer.

“Shoot? Are you shitting me? We need medical attention!”

He took another step forward, and pressed the glass door.

That was all it took. Holes burst through the glass, cracking but not shattering. Blood sprayed from the security guards and even Bill, staining the glass doors.

All three figures collapsed and fell like limp dolls to the floor.

No amount of desensitization could keep me from covering my mouth. I shrieked into the palms of my hands. I watched their bodies, wide-eyed, hoping for some sort of movement—any indication of life.

There was nothing.

What sort of fucked quarantine was this? Weren’t quarantines usually associated with viruses?

In a daze, I glanced down the adjacent hallway where I’d just come from. I half-expected that someone would have wandered this way by now. Hoped, at least.

The hallway was empty. I felt empty. The school was being completely confined, and as far as I could tell, I was currently the only one who knew about it. I returned my gaze to the entrance and the flash of police lights.

Something was gut-wrenchingly wrong. There were only two bodies by the door—both clothed in bloody security uniforms.

Bill was gone.

Two subtle sounds immediately caught my attention:

The gentle hum of the security camera…

…and something scurrying across the ceiling above me.

I glanced up just as a black form dropped down. My Demon Slayer instincts lashed out. In one agile leap backwards, I dodged the shadow. The Demon Dagger materialized in my grasp, leaving behind a trail of wispy black mist.

Bill’s hood was pulled over his head as he landed in front of me. He made no indication of attacking. In fact, he reverted back to his slouched, unmotivated stance, his expression half-bored. However, the bullet holes in his black, blood-stained shirt were notable additions to his otherwise-unaltered appearance.

“Bill…” I said.

Bill blinked, and his eyes were once again white and bloodshot. “I go by Belphegor.”

My momentary daze was instantly shattered as his skeletal structure cracked and crunched, re-altering.. He grew taller and paler. The skin on his face became a gaunt mask. His black eyes sunk deeper into their sockets. His skin thinned to a papery wrapping. His nose eroded into a deep nasal cavity. His lips peeled back, revealing a full mouth of rotten teeth. In a matter of seconds, he emerged as a skeletal monstrosity standing over six feet tall, his black attire now tattered and torn. With his black hood still pulled over his head, he looked like the goddamn Grim Reaper.

“Hello, Monica,” said Belphegor (apparently), his voice a dry rasp.

I replied with my Demon Dagger. Belphegor was too fast. He caught my wrist in his skeletal grip, stopping my blade short.

“Is that how you say hello?” said Belphegor. He pulled my wrist closer, intentionally bringing the tip of the blade so that it was touching the bulging rips in his emaciated torso. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

The determination behind my blade faltered and not just because he held my wrist. I felt his bony grip weaken, and I knew that I could easily break free and stab him. But why? What was he doing?

“I’ve already spread my poison,” said Belphegor. “My work here is done. This quarantine is my doing. The other Remnants didn’t know about it. They’re trapped here for the time being. Which, I might add, is
not
a good thing for the rest of your classmates.”

“Remnants?” I said. “Poison? You
poisoned
Mr. Garrison?”

“He wasn’t the first. And now that it’s started, he won’t be the last.”

I did not like where this was going. I found myself pulling against Belphegor’s grip as he positioned the Demon Dagger over his heart.

“Do it. Kill me now. I’m too tired and lazy to be involved in this pointless Demon charade. The others are simply resisting what is inevitable.”

“What do you mean? What are the others resisting?”

Belphegor leaned his decaying skeletal face until it was only inches from mine. His breath smelt like ancient death “We are puzzle pieces. Fragments of something much, much bigger.”

With that, he summoned all of his strength into stabbing my Demon Dagger into his own chest. He grunted as the blade pierced into his heart. And then his grip fell loose from my wrist. Two familiar things happened immediately: With a satisfied sigh, Belphegor began to disintegrate. He crumbled to the floor in a pile of ash. And then a glowing blue aura erupted from his decomposing corpse, channeling into the Demon Dagger’s blade. In one solid blast, that same blue energy exploded out of the handle and into my chest.

My world went black.

19

The Dead and Undead

I could not distinguish dream from reality. Distorted images came in and out of focus as I wavered unsteadily on the verge of consciousness. Gunshots echoed. Teenagers ran screaming past me.

Blackness.

***

Awaking once again, I realized I was being lifted. I felt the touch of bare skin, and realized my carrier was shirtless. With great effort, I managed to tilt my heavy head back, which seemed to weigh a couple hundred pounds. My unsteady gaze identified Eli Jacobson holding me close. His attention was focused elsewhere, however, as he rushed with me down the hall.

“Nuh-uh, not with the others,” said an all-too-familiar female voice “Somebody’s after her. We have to hide her somewhere.”

Confirming my suspicion, I caught a glance of blue-streaked black hair.

Zoey?

I blacked out yet again.

***

Consciousness continued to come in brief, blurry spurts. I was lying in a dim-lit room that more closely resembled an attic than anything else. The shapes of random colorful objects were cluttered together, and I found myself unable—or even desiring—to discern them. I would occasionally catch glances of Zoey or Eli hovering over me, or sometimes both of them together, talking. My distorted comprehensive abilities slurred their words together. And, as always, these images faded into dark, shadowy nothingness.

***

“Monica…”

It was a substanceless voice reverberating from the furthest reaches of outer space. The voice of God? An alien transmission? Whatever it was, it sounded anything but real.

“Monica.”

The voice sounded much, much closer. Inches away, even. The effect was eerie. But it was also discernible.

Eli?

I don’t even know if I opened my eyes or if they were already open. I was suddenly staring at Eli’s face, halfway shrouded in the shadows. But his firm jawline and crew cut were unmistakable. His curious expression was unchanging as he stared down on me. I also couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a shirt now.

My muscles were cement. Atrophied. No, not even that. It was as if my brain was completely disconnected from my body. I couldn’t even open my mouth. And even if I could, I doubted my voice could find its way out.

The strangest sensation came several long seconds afterward: I didn’t
want
to move. I didn’t
want
to speak. I just wanted to sleep. To immerse myself in the engulfing blackness of my mental oblivion.

“Monica, say something,” said Eli. His tone became much more frantic. “You’re looking at me. Can you give me some sign that you can hear me? Blink. Anything!”

As he mulled anxiously over me, his hand reached down and touched my face. That one touch sent a spark that ignited throughout my entire body. As if my brain had just connected human touch with reality. In fact, the concept of reality had seemed distant and almost unfeasible to my brain until that moment.

Zoey. I had to talk to Zoey.

I blinked.

No sooner did Eli gasp at my seemingly insignificant reaction, I could feel the rest of my body. I wiggled my fingers slightly. I shifted my body where I lay. Then, taking a deep breath, I performed the most physically taxing task of all. I attempted to sit up.

Eli’s stunned shock quickly wore off. Sensing my struggle, he helped to pull me upright. “Monica! Are you okay?”

I blinked again as his question registered. However, I became quickly distracted by the room we were immersed in. All of the indiscernible shapes and colors suddenly became drama props. Flamboyant costume racks took up a large portion of the room. These were accompanied by mirrors, fake plants, stacked up blocks of which I could not discern a purpose. There was also a fully-functioning door prop, hanging slightly open from its wall-deprived doorframe, among countless other objects.

“What is this place?” I said, still blinking out of my daze.

“This?” said Eli. He cast a casual glance around the room. “This is the drama department’s storage loft. I told Zoey about it, and she insisted we keep you here.”

“Zoey? Where is she?”

I also wanted to ask how I had managed not to see her all day at school, only to get saved by her while unconscious. I refrained.

“Downstairs, talking to the others,” said Eli. He seemed uncomfortable as he mentioned this. “Trying to find out if anything new has happened.”

Anything new? As my mind slowly solidified in the real world, I remembered all too clearly the events that led to my incapacitation. Bill attacking my geometry teacher. Police officers announcing a quarantine and shooting Bill and his two security guard escorts. And then Bill...no…Belphegor…

I killed another Demon.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Belphegor
made
me kill him.

“What’s going on?” I asked. Even as the question escaped my lips, I knew that Eli couldn’t answer half of the thoughts that were racing through my mind. As if my thoughts made any coherent sense to begin with.

Eli’s expression became a grimace. “The whole school has been locked down as a quarantine zone. They haven’t said why, but we’re pretty positive it has something to do with Bill biting Mr. Garrison. Like rabies or something messed up like that.”

Rabies, huh? I had a sneaking suspicion that whatever Bill had spread, it was worse than rabies. Much worse.

“We’ve been looking for Bill forever,” said Eli. “Nobody’s been able to find him since.”

One word out of Eli’s mouth hit me like a moving car. “Forever?” I repeated questioningly.

Eli seemed confused by my response at first. Realization washed over his expression shortly. “Oh…yeah.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Um…” Eli bit his lip, glancing to the side as he thought. “Four days?”

“FOUR DAYS?”

“Roughly.”

“Jesus titty-fucking Christ!”

Eli just gave me this sad look. “Jesus Christ doesn’t titty-fuck anyone.”

My face flushed. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like…Yeah, that just sorta came out. But god! I’ve been unconscious for four days?”

“I think. The days all kind of blend together.”

I was still speechless, staring past Eli and into space. Four days? When I killed Amon, I had only been out for…what? An hour? Why would killing Belphegor leave me unconscious for four whole fucking days?

Unconscious? Shit. I was in a coma.

Then I remembered the unsettling sensation I’d experienced. I
wanted
to keep sleeping. Though I seemed to bounce in and out of it, I was bothered by the possibility that I didn’t wake up simply because I didn’t
want
to.

“What all has happened?” I finally asked.

“Nobody has tried to help us,” said Eli. “That’s for sure.”

“They haven’t done anything?”

Eli shook his head.

“How can they just leave us here?”

He shrugged. “A lot of people tried to escape. They panicked at the idea of being quarantined inside a diseased area. They’re all dead now. Shot.”

I felt my breath escape me. Part of me wanted to ask who was dead. The rest of me was terrified to know. A wave of lightheadedness smothered me, causing me to waver slightly in my sitting position.

“You must be starving,” said Eli. He was already rising to his feet. “Here, let me get you something.”

I started to nod contentedly. Just at the thought of him leaving, I wanted to lie down and fall back asleep. Then I blinked. Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Hell no. I blinked several more times and then shook my head, hoping to knock some sense into that bullshit thing that was supposed to be my brain.

“I’m coming with you,” I said. I staggered to my feet, stabilizing myself on a nearby costume rack.

“No no no no no,” said Eli, shaking his head. “Zoey said you have to stay here. She thinks someone’s after you.”

“We’re all locked down in a quarantine zone. People are much lower on my list of concerns.”

“Well considering we found you in a coma, I kind of agree with her. What happened to you anyway?”

“I fell and hit my head,” I lied.

There was no conviction in my tone, and likewise, Eli didn’t seem to believe a word.

“Well, are you going to take me to where the food is, or do I have to wander around by myself?”

“But Zoey said—”

“If Zoey wants to tell me something, she can tell me herself!” I snapped.

Between my newfound anger problems and my current lethargy (which only seemed to make me more cranky), Eli did not argue further. Lifting my arm around his shoulder, he assisted me across the obstacle course of drama props and to the door.

I had to give Eli credit where it was due. This little storage room was the perfect hiding place. He opened the door directly into a curtain that had been draped across the wall. Wading past the shrouding material, we finally broke free onto the drama theater stage. I glanced back, and the sliding curtain once again settled gently against the wall. The door was completely invisible to anyone who didn’t already know it was there.

The drama theater was empty as we crossed it. Already, I could feel energy in my legs. I pulled my arm off of Eli’s shoulder, mostly to prove to myself that I didn’t need his help anymore.

Eli reached the door but paused with his hand on the knob. “You’re not going to like what you see out here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. Even as the words escaped my mouth, I could feel my own doubt. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, preparing myself for whatever atrocity lay outside. Eli turned the handle and pushed.

Eli was right.

The door opened to a pool of blood. As Eli opened the door further, that pool of blood expanded to a human body. A teenage girl. A redhead, like me. Her eyes and mouth were both open. Even more distinguished was the bullet hole in her head, a trail of red matching her hair.

I looked to my left and right, discovering an open empty hallway in both directions. I noticed a chair that had been pushed to the lockers beside her. And above those lockers was a small, lofty window that had been cracked open. That very same window pane had a distinguished bullet hole and was splattered in blood.

She had tried to escape.

“It’s better if you don’t look,” said Eli. He didn’t even wait for me to respond, instead directing me promptly down the hall with a guiding hand. I didn’t even try to resist.

Our shoes clapped noisily, echoing through the empty halls. Halls that somehow seemed all the more empty with a fresh teenage corpse behind us.

I needed something—anything—to get my mind off the presence of death.

“How do you and Zoey know each other anyway?” I said. I had to practically vomit out such friendly conversational banter. “I’ve known Zoey forever, and I
never
knew you two were friends.”

“It’s…complicated,” said Eli.

I eyed Eli suspiciously. From my experience, I knew that there were two kinds of complicated. There were the stories that take forever to share, where you don’t even know all of the details, and it’s just a pain in the ass to tell. And then there’s the complicated that has some sort of romantic angle involved. The way Eli was now flushing and awkwardly avoiding eye contact with me, I was inclined to believe the latter.

“What do you mean ‘complicated?’ You two didn’t
date
, did you?”

“We aren’t…
dating
. It’s…complicated.”

Aren’t. As in present tense. Oh shit.

“Okay, you’re going to tell me
everything
,” I said. “Ready, set, go.”

“Why are you interrogating me?”

“Because Zoey’s my best friend, and I have a right to know her dating life. Now fess up. What are you hiding?”

Eli sighed in exasperation. “Saturday. That’s when it started. Meaning that we had one good weekend, and then spent twice as many days in a quarantine zone. Not the most romantic setting. And it was just a fling to begin with.”

“What do you mean ‘just a fling’?” I countered defensively.

“I mean I know that she’s had a thing for your brother for as long as she’s had eyeballs.”

This comment shut me up quick.

“It really doesn’t bother me,” said Eli as we reached the door to the hallway. “It started off as a fling, and that’s all it’s ever going to be. You’re just going to have to trust me when I say that it was a very mutual agreement.”

Though I couldn’t say that I knew Eli well, I knew that he wasn’t the type to take advantage of girls. Casey had set me up on a blind date with him after all. I knew he ruled out all the douche bags. And even if he missed one, I doubt anyone douche bag had the balls to cross Casey when he was in defensive, big brother fuck-with-my-sister-and-I’ll-fuck-you-inside-out mode.

But Zoey and Eli? Who saw that one coming?

“There are going to be more bodies up ahead,” said Eli. “Just so you know.”

His eyes met mine, and I forced a hefty dose of fake confidence and nodded. “Okay.”

I already had an idea of what was to come. This hallway was about to merge with the entrance. Eli was probably referring to more than just the dead security guards. All too clearly, I remembered the other gunshots during my flashes of consciousness. We neared the entryway hall. I could already see the traces of blood. Several lifeless limbs outstretched from beyond the corner. I immediately lowered my head, shielding my peripheral vision with one hand. Eli placed a comforting hand around my shoulder as he positioned himself between me and the massacre. However, as we rounded the corner in the opposite direction, turning from the bloodbath, I inadvertently stole a glance.

Bad idea.

Bodies were heaped on top of each other in a mountain of flesh, practically barricading the glass doors. Open eyes. Open mouths. Dead faces staring into oblivion. Blood was splattered everywhere like some Rorschach nightmare. I hastily looked away, but the scars were already cut into my retinas.

Eli and I continued down the opposite hallway silently. What do you say after a horrific scene like that? Part of me wanted to ask if anyone I knew was dead. The other part couldn’t stomach an answer.

I could hear teenage voices further down the hall. The gymnasium and the cafeteria were the two biggest rooms in the building, and from the sound of it, the majority of our quarantined school body seemed to have congregated there. It made sense. I’m sure everyone wanted to stay as far away from the massacre as possible.