“Get inside, right now.”
“Daddy, what’s happening?”
My daughter was clearly terrified, my wife held her with a firm embrace as she stepped into the basement door. The clouds on the horizon were looming, ever watching, and growing steadily closer.
“I wouldn’t run from this, why would you?”
Our former priest, now clearly a madman, stood around the corner of our house. The bishop pointed a shotgun right at me, and realizing I had one on hand, I pointed mine too.
A gunshot rang out as I felt a seething pain in my arm, the sheer force of the pellets knocking me to the ground. Once I realized the first shot only hit my shoulder. I was deeply wounded, but could still move my body. I jolted upright as the false prophet we once knew as one to be trusted aimed his shotgun directly at my forehead.
“Do not run from the judgement of God, boy. Ya hear?!”
He shook the gun violently. “Please, I just need to protect my family.”
“You never put your family before God, you know that.”
“That’s not in our bible, and you’re not our priest-“
I felt sharp and blunt blow nearly knock me senseless, the raging pastor had struck me with the barrel of his shotgun right over my head, leaving me dazed, but still somewhat conscious.
“They’re coming, and God knows you are guilty of sin! You must atone for your sin, boy.” The mad priest raved at me, but I was only focused on my wife and little girl.
I turned to the pastor gingerly, trying not to talk back, as I knew it would only cause more trouble.
Then I heard the whispering. And that whispering turned into an imminent and endless buzzing. These things were demons. Demons in the shape of something we thought we knew as familiar. We thought they only wanted our crops, but now they wanted more.
“You’ve read revelation haven’t ya? It says ‘Locusts emerged from the smoke of the pit’ now, didn’t it? That’s God’s judgement. And it comes for us all.”
“You’ve gone insane, look at yourself!” My wife screamed.
“What did you just say little lady? Want me to blow your head off with your kid right in front of ya?” The crazed man we thought we knew cocked his shotgun as he pointed at the love of my life.
I used my foot to strike the pastors knee sideways as I heard a loud crack! The pastor fell over and reeled in pain as he dropped his shotgun. I immediately grabbed it and threw it into the cornfield.
The pastor growled and wrapped his clammy old hands around my neck. He squeezed tight as I was pinned to the ground, dropping my own revolver.
I felt the air in my body start to leave me, losing oxygen as stars started flashing in my vision, then spots followed.
“Thou shalt not kill, right?”
A loud bang sounded as my wife stood over the pastor, gun in hand. The pastor let go as soon as his knee, the one I had almost broken earlier, was blown to bits.
It gave me just enough time to crawl over to my daughter and wife, and as the humming of the swarm drew closer, I started to shut the barn door, but then the pastor stopped me, attempting to pull be back into the light of day again.
He tugged hard at my shirt and collar, he practically gained all his strength and pulled me out of the basement, limping and dragging me by the hairs. He stood me up and forced me to watch as the swarm got closer. The cloud of devils gaining wind.
“Look at them. That is YOUR judgement. OUR judgement. The kingdom of God draws NEAR, boy!”
I reared my head forward to head-butt the shell of my friend in the nose, only to repeat it so I could get a good hit in. I sprinted as the bugs dived down upon the earth we stood on, and swarmed my husk of a friend. I didn’t look back. I heard his screams, and I didn’t look back for even a second as I shut the door to my bunker.
I heard him screaming my name for hours, even after the swarm was long gone. He banged loudly on the door as my family lit our lantern and ate from cans. He continued to scream and laugh, he even cried a bit, but he was still alive.
I could hear his bloated and mangled flesh squelching over the door of our basement, I could hear his shuddered and guttural breathing, I could hear him telling us to come out, that ‘it was safe now, and you’ll be safe with me.’
His laugh gave it all away.
Even now I still see his shadow over the cracks of the doors, even now I hear him rattling the door ever so slightly, even now I continue to put the lock back in its place whenever it slightly moves.
“Daddy, I’m scared.”
“When will he stop? Please make him stop.”
My wife begs me to go out there and put our once good friend out of his misery, but they know I can’t do that. If he was strong enough to take me on in his normal state, how strong would he be now?
I’m getting tired as I write this, my wife and daughter are already asleep. The bolt lock is loosening up again, and I’m not sure if there’s a way out anymore.
I just hope that God will give me strength.