The Darkest Veil Ch. 1

[The room is dark.] I can hear my own heartbeat. It pulses through my ribcage and I can feel it in my wrists as I hug myself tightly. Somewhere, I can smell urine and blood. She's out there somewhere, sleeping. [She's sleeping.] Never to wake, never to dream… You'd think that he'd have realized when she stopped screaming that she'd died. [But he won't stop.] Every morning when he comes home from his rounds, he has his way with her husk, her empty shell. Maybe he doesn't realize? [Does he even care?] The door opens, and light from the hall streams in. [He's come back….]

God, I don't know if I can take this any more! I want my Mommy! I want my Mommy, I want my Daddy, I want Samantha, I want them all! [Mommy's been dead a long time, they all have.] Shut up! I know that! I'm not 9 any more. So you just shut up! [Make me.] I will if I have to! I'm not scared of you! You hear me? I'm not scared of… [Quiet…] Wha… what was that? [He's back…] Oh no! He's coming! I need to find a place to hide! [What the hell good will that do?] Shut up! [You think that maybe he won't find you? He always does.] Shut up shut up shut up! [Hey, don't get pissed at me for stating the truth.] … [If I were you, my main fear would be what he's going to do, now that he's run out of women. You realize how much you look like your sister?] Oh my God, shut up! God, help me! Don't let me die here! Not like this!

"Billy, where are you? Come here, Billy. Come to Daddy! I've missed you, Billy. I thought we might spend some time together, bond a little. Come here, I won't hurt you." No, oh God no! He's found me! [Sorry, kid, but this is gonna hurt like hell.] There he is! He sees me, and he's got that look on his face! His hand is rubbing his pants, just like when he came after Samantha! Oh God, please no!

"Heh heh, come here, Jonny. I want to show you something." He scooped me up and carried me out of the room. At the door he shifted me in his arms, and I got one last good look at the bedroom.

Then with a grunt, he bore me from the room. He carried me to the coffee table, where Jessica's body was. The clothes were half torn off of it, and it smelled real bad. Her eyes stared blankly up at me, but her face was still locked in horror. Mr. Conway swept her out of the way with his arm, and laid me down. He stood at the edge of the table. I heard a zipping noise next to me, but I didn't want to turn my head to see what it was. "It's time that we took our little family to a new level." Mr. Conway said. Then he began to laugh. "Heh. Heh heh. Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh. You're in my world now, Jonny."

"Is this the place, sir?" Private Hunter looked up into Lieutenant Andrews' face. The older man nodded sagely.

"Yes, this is the place. We need to hit him hard, and we need to hit him fast. If we move fast, we can get that sick bastard before he has a chance to react, or to take hostages. According to intelligence, he just got home about one half hour ago, so he should be in the middle of relaxing, if we are lucky."

"No offense sir, but I'd much prefer to make my own luck." Andrews looked startled as hell, suddenly recalling 90 years ago. In his mind's eye, he saw himself, a mere punk kid, barely 15. He'd been so ready to charge in, and lay his life on the line, that he didn't stop to think. He'd been so obsessed with the idea of doing great things that he'd hesitated too long. While that sick fuck had been carving up the Host, he'd been busy flapping his gums with… with… oh God. That would not happen here! He looked at Hunter, this younger version of himself, and it dawned on him what was happening. History was repeating itself, in the worst way. Without further ado, he gave the order to charge in.

"You know what to do, we will not fail. Today the Savior Soul will live, and we will have something to go home to our families and feel good about." Hunter kicked in the door, and rushed in. There stood Mr. Conway, the energy blade high in the air. He was poised, about to strike. Without pause, Hunter raised his shock rifle, and pulled the trigger. The room glows blue in the light of the energy bolt that the weapon releases. Time seems to hold still, caught in an instant of a shift in transitory awareness, and reality finds itself twisted askew.

Jonny lay there, the terror of certain doom fell upon him, crushing him. At that moment, he just knew, that he was about to die. The feeling of devastation and loss hit him hard, and it felt like the very sensation itself pinned him to the table. He looked up at Mr. Conway. He had something in his hand, something sharp and metal. He raised it, and flicked a switch on the side. There was an odd flash in Jonny's sight as he stared at the blade. It no longer looked like one of those funny blades that were hooked up to a battery pack with wires. It looked like an old, dull, rusty carving knife. Then the flash happened again, and the wires were back.

The weapon began humming, and glowing purple softly. Jonny just stared at it, his tears stopped, uncertain as to what just happened. He stared at it for some time, but nothing else happened. For Mr. Conway's part, he just stared at Jonny, seeming surprised at this sudden change in attitude, especially the way he was looking at the vibro. Jonny started to give up on the vision as a mere hallucination, and had begun to cry again. This encouraged Mr. Conway, and he raised the blade. Stimulated by the action, the vision returned to Jonny, who held it as long as he could. In his mind's eye, he saw the whole picture. A man who looked very similar to Mr. Conway raised the rusty knife, and slowly brought it down and across. Blood spurted high into the air, and a scream ripped through his mind. Startled back to the moment at hand, Jonny looked up at Mr. Conway, who was seeming confused again.

Jonny looked up at Mr. Conway. He stared long and hard into his killer's face. In his killer's eyes, he saw his family, slaughtered. He saw his life, shattered. He saw the face of everyone he'd ever loved. He recalled Jessie being taken from the room. "Help me." He recalled (he knew not how) the face of a little blonde girl who reminded him of Jessie, being hauled off in the same manner. "Help me." He recalled his mother, when Mr. Conway put the gun to her nose. "Oh my God!". Her voice, shrill with fear, ripped through him. He saw another very pretty woman, screaming the same way. "Oh my God!"

Her face contorted into the same mask of fear. He recalled the image of his father, kind and loving, dropping to the floor. He recalled another man, a man whose eyes sparkled with kindness and compassion. Superimposed over one another, the two men fell to the floor, and behind them, stood the laughing clown like face of Mr. Greenwich and Mr. Conway. How did he recall the name of this man he did not know? How did he recall some other family, whom he'd never seen? He saw all their faces, in the back of his mind. The woman, the girl, the man, and Mr. Greenwich. His mother, his father, Jessie, and Mr. Conway. Burned into the space in his mind just behind his eyes was the image of the two large men. Laughing, grinning, even as the blood covered their hands, they smiled their sick smile.

Even as he stared at these images, he felt it build. It started low. It started as a mere feeling of desperation. He cried out silently, "How can this be fair??" "Why does this have to happen to me??" "Why did God let my Mommy and Daddy die??" With these question burning fresh tears into his eyes, Jonny's face grew flushed. Mr. Conway stayed his hand, his brow furrowed in confusion. This what not at all the attitude that the boy should be having. The rage slowly began to build in Jonny. His desperation grew into fear. His fear grew into anger. His anger became his rage. And his rage became him. Feeling the rage stirring in his blood, Jonny saw red. His vision blurred.

Seeing the boy react so, Mr. Conway began to become scared that he might attempt something. Swiftly he brought the blade down. Jonny twisted to the side, attempting to dodge the blade. Instead the blade buried itself deep in his shoulder blade. Yelling in pain, he twisted aside and brought the heel of his right foot sharply into Mr. Conway's lower ribs, forcing him away. His grip on the blade's hilt was so tight, that it came with him, and was pulled free of Jonny's shoulder. Jonny felt the pain of the burn that the blade had left in his shoulder, but only dimly. The rage was all consuming at this point. Mr. Conway loomed over him once more, his face dark. He prepared to strike again.

Suddenly the front door was kicked in. Much to Mr. Conway's surprise, several men strode through the door, weapons armed. The one in the lead kneeled and took careful aim. A bolt of blue energy came from the end of the weapon, flinging outwards to slice into Mr. Conway's chest. He staggered back, his shock evident on his face. Realizing that there was the possibility that what was transpiring might be interrupted before he could finish, Mr. Conway leapt towards Jonny. As his face drew close, Jonny recalled the faces of all the people that this man has killed, all the faces of the other family that the other man had killed, and the possible others that the two of them had killed. Each face flashed past his eyes in rapid order, and the rage surged through him again. Bellowing out his carnal lividity, two thoughts alone consumed his being.

He croaked out the words. "Never again." he gritted through his teeth. Mr. Conway hovered over him now, the gleam of the kill in his eye. His hand, the weapon clutched in it, raised up. "Never again." The words came out. Mr. Conway started to bring the blade down, gathering speed as it flew. Jonny could hear the men behind him scrambling to get a clean shot that wouldn't endanger him. "Never again." His hand came up, and caught Mr. Conway by the wrist. Despite the older man's strength, he could not budge the arm further downward. Mr. Conway stare, dumbfounded. He quickly raised his other hand, and brought it down, trying to bash Jonny's face in. Jonny's other hand came up to meet the incoming fist.

Both of his hand's held, Mr. Conway stared down into the face that looked coolly back at him. Where had he gone wrong? The face of the scared little boy was replaced with that of a man. A face of courage. A face that promised death. Jonny pushed hard, forcing Mr. Conway up and away from him a short ways. As the older man's arms lifted and separated, Jonny brought his hands in quickly. Finally granted the clear shot that the men had been waiting for, one of the soldiers off to the right flank of the one in the lead fired his weapon, and neatly sliced Mr. Conway directly in his face. As the burnt and partially melted face fell back down towards Johnny, he thrust his hands outward straight in front of him, open palm. As his palms met Mr. Conway's sagging chest, there seemed to be a small explosion of light and force at the point of contact.

As if a concussion grenade had gone off in Jonny's hands, Mr. Conway flew back, and was sent clear through the boarded up window. Sailing through the air beyond the broken wooden boards, Mr. Conway screamed as he plummeted downward. Jonny rushed to the window and looked out, blinking as he got the first sight and smell of light and fresh air in about a decade. Down below him, he saw shiny cars floating through the airways. Falling past and between them, Mr. Conway's first flying lesson ended abruptly with a mid-air collision with a stone gargoyle some 20 stories below. One could not say, however, that the trip was completely uneventful. After all, it did end with the a rather abrupt meeting of minds. Primarily, Mr. Conway's splattered all over the pretty stonework that housed the gargoyle's.

Jonny turned back, and surveyed the soldiers. Many of them were cheering, the day having been won. The one in the lead approached him cautiously, and held out his hand. "It's ok, son. I'm Lieutenant Andrews, and we're hear to take you away from this nightmare." He grinned back at his fellows, then returned his smile to the boy. "We're the good guys." Even though Jonny would have given anything to be able to get a decent meal, and to rest, and to be away from this horrible nightmare, something inside of him told him not too. That going with these men might be bad. Trusting to his instincts rather than his rationale, he turned to the only other avenue that he had available to him. The window.

Seeing the gears clicking behind the boy's mind, Andrews suddenly realized what he was about to do. He tried to leap to stop the boy, but he just simply wasn't fast enough. Like a scared deer, little Jonny leapt out the window. Andrews rushed to the window, panic stricken. He peered out the door, but could find no sign of the boy. Sobbing his grief at having failed again, at not having saved the boy in the end, even after such a heroic rescue, he turned back inside.

A small chuckle sounded outside, as Jonny saw the top of Lootenunt Andrews' head pop back inside the window below him. At last he was breathing fresh air, at last he was free. No one was going to take that away from him, not even the good guys. [Especially not the good guys… what a pansy ass.]

Jon climbed the fire escape to the roof, he didn't want to chance running into the men again on the street. Swinging his legs easily up and onto the concrete of the rooftop, he looked out across the city. There lay the city, in all of its glory. From here he could practically smell the corruption. The crime, the filth, the pus-laden refuse of the world, here it all lay. Turning his back on the world, he strode off to look for a way to get away from this rooftop without going back down the fire escape. The sunbeam streamed over his shoulder, and the warmth felt good. His shadow fell upon a small plastic board on the ground. Picking it up, Jon carefully thumbed the button on the side. The flat side of it blared to life. On it he saw the news report for the day. Without knowing how he was able, Jon reviewed the material. His gaze was caught by the date. It read July 24th, 2154.