Purge: Book Three: Last Days Trilogy (8 page)

“But if it feels good...”

“Too much in one night, it’s uh, not good,” Reggie stuttered.

“But Buzz and Mimi…”

“Are gluttons,” Reggie nodded. “Yes, so, before we commit the sin of gluttony, I’m heading to bed. Thanks for the, um… yeah. Good night.” Hurriedly, arms tight to her sides, Reggie turned to leave.

“Shall we save some more for tomorrow then?” Michael called out.

Without stopping, Reggie responded with a non-thinking, “Yeah, sure.” Once out of Michael’s sight, she stopped, and leaned against a tree to catch her breath. Shutting her eyes only reinforced the vision of the kiss in her mind, and the feel of it through her body. Her hand slid across her fluttering stomach, and she closed her eyes tighter. “Oh, God, what have I done?” she whispered, not expecting a response.

Maniacal laughter resonated in her head as her fingers touched her lips. Her eyes opened in horror to the feel of a thick dampness glazing her mouth. A sour, sulfur smell emanated from her hand. Trembling, she reached for the flashlight hooked on her belt. One flick of the switch, and Reggie saw her hand was covered in blood. A sickening knot formed in her stomach. Dropping the flashlight, holding back a scream of terror, Reggie took off running for home.

Mark Twain National Forest, Missouri

While everyone slept, Devante did not. He sat by the crackling fire, staring at Todd’s newest sketch of Reggie. When he gave it to him, Todd merely said, “Dude, don’t ask why, but I think this is a better doorway.”

At first, Devante looked puzzled, until he saw the picture. Even though it was black and white, Todd had captured something in the sketch he had not before: Reggie’s eyes. They held the same familiarity that Devante found irritatingly soothing. Enemy or not, Reggie pulled at Devante, and he had yet to figure out why.

Transfixed on the picture, Devante began to set it down when he saw Reggie’s eyes once more. Slowly, he lifted it back up and stared into the drawing as if he could see into her soul. Part of him did. The laugh began in his stomach, and rumbled deeply with evil as it rolled up his chest and into his throat. He touched the sketch. The eyes of Reggie lit up as if they were flames, and Devante smiled, calling out her name in a long deep whisper: “Regina.”

Seville, Ohio

Even though Earl was older, he had the mindset and stamina of a man half his age. Buzz’s pack looked up to him as the Godfather of bikers. Earl was a teacher, and someone they dared never cross. Marcus was grateful to be standing watch at the wall with him.

“Never give up,” Earl advised.

“Nah.” Marcus shook his head. “I don’t think I want to hit the Seville record for marriages. I’m fine where I’m at.”

“You’re awfully close. Three more to tie, four to beat.”

“I’d like to stop at one more.”

“Suit yourself.” Earl tossed his cigarette. “As long as you birth no babies, divorce doesn’t cost you much anymore.”

“That
is
something to think about, as I don’t have a job.”

“You know, I’ve thought of that myself.”

“Maybe it will be easier,” Marcus said.

“For me, maybe. I’m a hell of a carpenter. But you? What’s the new world gonna do with a man who makes clones?”

“I do more than that. I’m a warrior now,” Marcus chuckled. His attention went outward when a figure approached the perimeter. “Earl? Check this out,” Marcus said.

Earl turned and looked. A man staggered as if he was hurt. He moved steadily, slowly. His left arm dangled lifelessly, swinging back and forth with each stride.

“Listen. Do you hear that?” Marcus asked.

“Yeah. That isn’t his breathing, is it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Here he comes.” Earl pulled out his gun and flashlight. “We’ll just ask him what he wants. Go on.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You have the sword.” Earl shined the light on the man. “Holy mother of God.”

“Halt. Who...” Marcus froze when he saw the yellow eyes and the bubbling face. Marcus swallowed nervously. “Who goes there?” The man hissed like a snake. He opened his mouth and shot forth white foam that splattered across Marcus’ chest. Marcus grunted in disgust and stepped back.

Earl took hold of Marcus’ arm. “Use the sword. He ain’t human. And remember, Michael said guns won’t kill them.”

Marcus looked up at the man. “No, Earl, you. I don’t know how to kill with a sword.”

“You think I do?” Earl argued. “You know more than me. And you’re a scientist. Wait. We’re saved.” Earl pointed behind Marcus. Michael approached.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Michael said. “I’ve come to see how your watch is. Why does this demon lurk at our gate?”

“Demon?” Marcus turned to Michael.

Looking perturbed, Michael shook his head, pulled out his sword, and stepped forward. With one swift swing, he sent the demon’s head twirling into the air. “See? Simple.” Michael put his sword away. “Now, tell me. How does the rest of the night go?”

Marcus was aghast. “What? That… it…” he pointed at the carcass. “Thing… what the hell, Michael?”

“Yes.” Michael smiled. “Exactly.” He gave a pat to Marcus’ back. “Should you need me, just summon me. Have a good night.” Michael walked off.

“Earl? Did I miss something?” Marcus asked. “Was it me, or did Michael just act as if that zombie was normal?”

“It’s not you, man. And that tells me…” Earl whistled. “We could be in for an interesting night.”

<><><><>

Reggie didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. After rushing back from Michael, she showered. With the hot water running across her, she kept telling herself that Michael had warned her of mind games. Sick, demented mind games. She had to stop letting them frighten her.

Hair still damp, wearing only a robe, Reggie plopped on her bed with a book. She hadn’t even read a page when she passed out.

How long had she been sleeping? The book was still in her hand when she stirred. She felt a warm aching, the feeling of mild arousal. She opened her eyes with a jolt. Michael was sitting on the bed next to her. Reggie looked down to see the bottom portion of her robe open, her legs spread and exposed. His name stuck in her throat.

Michael whispered, “Seems I have discovered another part of you that feels good.” His hand grazed her thigh, brushing lightly between her legs.

Reggie’s hand sprang down and took his wrist. “Stop.”

“Does it not feel good, Reggie?”

“Michael, this isn’t right. Stop,” Reggie pleaded.

“Why?” He lowered his lips closer to hers. “I can make you feel good, Reggie. Let me discover that.” Parting his lips, Michael brought his mouth to her neck.

Another warm sensation. Uncontrollable, and she barely put up a struggle. Feeling his mouth search her neck, Reggie turned her head. That was when she saw the poster on the wall. A rock band from her youth. Something as simple as that poster clicked her subconscious into action, and made her whisper, “I’m dreaming. Michael, I’m dreaming.”

Michael said nothing.

Perhaps it was wrong, but Reggie smiled. She had never experienced a dream where she felt so aware, yet still out of control. She debated whether to try stopping the dream, or letting it continue. When another tingle moved up her body, Reggie released the grip on Michael’s hand.

She sighed with a grin, and told herself it was only a dream. Why not continue?

Michael stopped kissing her neck. Just as Reggie peeped out a disappointed “Hey,” he brought his hands to her shoulders and opened her robe. He stared for a moment, then brought his hands to her. They roamed freely, all over her body, her legs, her stomach, all while his mouth pursued her. His tongue trailed at her breasts, and glided down to her stomach. Her eyes rolled in delight as she grew warmer. Then she felt his hands on her inner thighs.

“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this.” She tried to sit up, but Michael pushed her back. She plopped in defeat onto her back. A sensation like none she had ever felt consumed her, a wave of sexual arousal. She found herself reaching for more. Michael’s hands gripped her legs and Reggie parted them in invitation. He nibbled on her left thigh, then her right.

“More,” she whimpered. “More.”

Reggie had reached a point of release and no return. The second Michael’s lips found their home, she arched her back and thrust her hips forward, aching out a moan as her lower torso spasmed in ecstasy. She reached down to press Michael’s head tightly against her.

While her body still billowed in orgasm, her mind reeled at what her fingers discovered. It wasn’t Michael.

She gripped a head that felt distorted, lumpy and coarse. Reggie opened her eyes, peered to her chest, and saw long bony fingers, and claw-like nails crawling up her chest. She tried to spring up, but the hand pressed her down, painfully squeezing her breast. She fought, pulling back her legs. In trying to shriek, she saw the head emerge from between her legs.

His beaming yellow eyes were narrow like a cat’s, ripples across his face, his nose flat and thick. His head was wide, and above his pointed and pinned-back ears, he sprouted horns that were long and rolled-back like a goat’s. Smiling, he opened his mouth. His tongue protruded, wiry, snake-like, and it flapped around quickly just before he dropped his head between her legs again.

“No!”

“Do you like that?” This time, Devante spoke, appearing from the darkness.

“No.” She tried to get up, but four vine-like tentacles shot from under the bed and wrapped around her arms, pulling them outward. The other two secured her ankles, spreading her legs wide. Reggie screamed.

“Is that what you like? Is it? Dream of the angel, Reggie. Give into him. Let your body have his. Commit the sin that makes you mine.” Devante smiled, peering down at her, as the demon rose from between her legs, his body huge, distorted and grotesque.

Reggie shook her head and fought to free herself as Devante moved forward. “No. Oh, God. No!”

“God will not help you now!” Devante shouted.

Reggie felt the weight of the demon mounting her. Just as he delivered the first painful thrust, she cried out, bringing herself awake.

Michael was walking in the room when Reggie jumped with a scared expression. “Reggie.” He closed the door and raced to her.

She couldn’t breathe. Reggie gasped out, spinning and turning in confusion, trying to make sure she was no longer dreaming.

“Reggie.” Michael touched her, and Reggie sprang back.

“Marcus. I need Marcus.” She scurried about, grabbing a pair of shorts from the floor. She stepped into them as she flew to the dresser for a shirt. Still rolling the shirt over her body, she turned in a run and tripped to the floor.

Michael bent down to help, but she got up on her own. “Reggie, where are you going?”

“I have to find Marcus. I need him right now.”

Michael grabbed her arm. “Please. Let me help you. I beg you, Reggie. Let me help you.”

Reggie groaned and abruptly yanked back her arm, blasting, “You’ve done enough.” With a shudder, she stepped back and rubbed her arms. Holding back a scream, Reggie turned and bolted from the room.

Reggie ran barefoot from the dark house, across the property and into the street. The soles of her feet hit hard against the pavement as she raced the four blocks to find Marcus.

When she neared the perimeter wall, she heard his laughter and felt instant relief. His name peeped from her throat as she slowed down.

Marcus lost his smile. “I’ll be back, Earl.” Handing over his sword, he walked to Reggie. “Reg?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I need to talk to you.” She backed away, whispering. “Please. You’re the only one I can talk to about this.”

“What happened?” He laid his hand on her face. She closed her eyes with shame. “Reg?”

“I had a dream.”

“Must have been bad.”

Reggie took a second to wipe the chill from her arm. “No judging.”

“No judging.” Marcus held up his right hand.

“I was dreaming…” She swallowed and lowered her voice. “Michael started to seduce me. Marcus, I...” She covered her eyes. “I started to really enjoy what was happening in that dream. I’m so ashamed.”

“Reg.” Marcus smiled. “Come on. It’s a normal thing. You had an erotic dream. So what? Why are you ashamed?”

“It’s not true. When I reached down to touch his head...”

“Reached down?”

“Yes. Marcus... it wasn’t Michael.” Reggie cringed. “It was this... thing. This beast. Uh.” She shuddered loudly. “God. Then Devante showed up. He told me, if that’s what I liked, if I touched Michael, then I would be damned. And it gets worse. This
thing
, Marcus... it started to rape me.”

Marcus’ eyes widened.

“Then I woke up with Michael standing near me. And I flipped.”

Marcus laid his hand on her shoulders. “Reg. Listen to me. What you dreamt was horrible. But... it was a dream. It was only a dream. You saw some pretty hideous shit today and it’s there.” He touched her temple. “What you experienced was just your subconscious kicking in. It was a dream.”

“Dream or no dream, I’m not taking a chance.”

“A chance on what?”

“I’m not going to even let Michael near enough to touch me. Tell him that you want me back.”

“I will do no such thing. Where is this coming from? It was a dream.”

“Bullshit!” Reggie stepped back. “I may have been dreaming just now, but I wasn’t dreaming this evening when Michael kissed me.”

“Michael kissed you?”

“Nothing big, more out of curiosity, but after he kissed me, I ran. And when I finally stopped, there was this thick, horrendous-smelling blood all over my lips. I’m damned. I know I am. I’ve committed some mortal sin and if I don’t stop now all humanity is damned as well.”

Marcus folded his arms. “Are you done with your rant? Do you hear how silly you sound? Kissing Michael is not a sin. Dreaming erotically of him is not a sin. We have too much to face, this is all part of those mind games Michael was talking about. If you give in…”

“It was real. The blood on my lips… it was real.” Reggie shook her head.