Tree of Life

The Devil Abides

Gurgling curses grew louder and nearer.

The old watchman ushered Monty and Kered flat against the side of the tunnel. “Something wicked this way comes.” He whispered.

A ruckus accompanied the cursing as if two men were at full fisticuffs on the fly. Suddenly, the source of the sour rage burst upon them.

Zubiri recognized the situation first. “The devil abides in the lad!”

Monty understood at a primitive level—the Sergeant had been indwelled. The presence of pure evil brought bile to the back of his throat. A vestigial sense of moral decency governed his actions. Jutting out his mechanical arm, he connected solidly with Sergeant Edward’s chin. Monty cringed at the snap of the jaw. For the greater good, old man, he reminded himself.

The gurgling profanity stopped when James’ body hit the wall. The calm worried Monty more than the madness, until he feared he’d made a terrible misstep.

“Don’t give ‘em peace!” Zubiri yelled as he charged the invisible, motionless mass recoiled against the tunnel wall. A foul wind greeted them.

Monty at once knew the smell. Its remembrance haunted his dreams. “No!” Razor sharp tendrils brushed past Monty’s legs on their way to entangle the watchman.

“The Lord be my Shepherd!” Zubiri met the inhuman tangle of ropey vines head on.

Monty did what came naturally to him in such moments: put his head down, barred it with his mechanical arm and charged full bore into the dark. He struck Sergeant Edwards in the chest and bore him into the wall as the watchman’s flesh turned to a fine dust.

With his eyes clenched tight, Monty drove his arm upward into the possessed man’s throat. He pinned the sergeant with all his might, turned his head and waited for the neck to snap.

What are you? A voice rang in his head.

“I could ask you the same.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

I am the devourer of souls.

“What’s wrong? Found one you can’t stomach?” Monty’s feet began to slip. He redoubled his effort to force Edward’s body through the very rock—to grind it to dirt if he must.

The voice in his head weakened. It spoke as if gasping for breath. You…don’t…have…one.

Monty twisted his elbow upward. The vertebrae in Edwards’ neck slacked. A loud pop filled the silence and seemed to repeat itself for several moments. After counting to ten, Monty stepped back and allowed the body to drop to the tunnel floor.