The Coward's Way

© Alva J. Roberts

Drew Levenson leaned into the tiny closet trying to become even smaller than his already diminutive five foot six inches. His raspy breath punctuated the darkness in short gasps. The musty smell of decaying carpets and dust filled his nostrils. Sweat rolled down his cheeks, and dripped off of his chin.

They were coming.

He could literally feel their footsteps growing closer with each thunderous beat of his heart. He should never have come, this is what he got for playing hero. He wasn't a hero, in fact he had the sneaking suspicion that he might be a coward.

He silently mouthed the words to the Lord's Prayer, hoping for some higher power to intervene. It was a useless act done more out of desperation than anything else. The events of the last few weeks had proved to Drew that god, if he had ever truly existed, was dead.

The innocuous tune of Mary Had A Little lamb filled the hallway outside of the abandoned classroom. The sound of footsteps filled the darkness. He sucked in his breath, trying to slow his breathing. They might hear it. All he needed was a few moments to gather his power.

The sound stopped just outside the class room. Drew closed his eyes, hoping that they would move on. His hands tightened on the old broom he found when he dove into the closet to hide. The inch thick wood was a meager weapon, but it was all he had. If he had more time he could have used his power, he could have truly challenged them, as it was all he had was the broom and a desperate desire to live.

Six pairs of tiny hands began clapping.

“Let's all clap because Satan is here, Satan is here…” the song filled the darkness. They weren't going to give him the time he needed. He felt wetness crawl down his face as tears rolled from his eyes.

The door to the classroom flew open. Bright magical light filled the decrepit classroom, and stung Drew's eyes. Six indistinct little shapes filtered in and went right to his closet as if they could sense him. The little figures formed a ring around the closet, as if they could sense him.

The figures gained clarity, as his eyes adjusted to the bright harsh light. They were girls, little girls, maybe nine or ten years old. They all wore dull gray school uniforms and an unholy red light glared from their eyes.

For the most part the room was empty. A few old desks and a couple of chairs were the only furnishings. They all looked as of the weight of a single hair would bring them crashing to the floor.

“Have you accepted Lucifer as your lord and savior?” one of the little girls asked walking forward, her head cocked at an odd and unnatural angle. She raised her hands as she walked forward. Flakes of black dried blood drifted off of them to the floor.

Drew screamed in mindless anger and fear as he threw open the door and sprinted forward with the broom gripped in both hands. He swung the ancient wooden weapon with both hands; there was wumping sound as the broom cut through the air. It smashed into the girl's head with a loud crack and spray of splintered wood.

The diminutive child looked up at him her expression cold and unreadable. Something about her face didn't look altogether human. David stepped back stumbling over one of the old wooden desks. He fingers stretched out, seeking a weapon. His hands finally wrapping their way around one of the chairs. He lifted the chair up and brought it crashing down on top of the desk, freeing the chair's leg to use as a club. The wood was smooth and cold in his hand.

“St-st-stay back!” Drew yelled, pointing his newly acquired weapon at the children.

“That was not nice. Not nice at all,” the girl said, cocking her head to the side again.

“Yes, he doesn't know the rule,” one of the other girls replied, her voice vibrating and echoing through the tiny room.

“No. No. Not-nice-man doesn't know the rule,” yet another of the girls said.

“What damn rule?” Drew screamed.

“Do unto others as you want them to do unto you,” the first girl said in a cold monotone.

Drew felt something thick and wooden smash into his head. Splinters rained across his shoulders, as pain blossomed through his temple. He fell to the ground, blood dripping from his wounded forehead. The chair leg bounced across the disintegrating carpet.

“Please. Please don't kill me,” Drew begged the blood from his head wound mixing with his tears, to sting his eyes.

A lump of shame filled his throat but did nothing to dispel his fear.

“We will not kill you. Why would we do that? We need you.”

“Need me?” Drew asked feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in days.

“Yes. You are necessary, there is very little left to eat,” the girl said, her expression changing for the first time. The girl smiled at him, a harsh, cold, smile that never touched her eyes. Drew whimpered at the sight wishing her smile would go away.

She stepped closer, at the same time something smashed into the back of Drew's head, and he fell forward the darkness claiming him.

***

Drew awakened to a horrible throbbing pain that started in his temples and ran through his entire body to the tips of his toes. The sweet smell of death greeted his nostrils. His body felt cold, and his breath was rising up around his face in a fine vapor. He was in a standing position, thick metal bands held him against a wall by his aching arms. He let out a low moan, as he opened his eyes.

The room was dark, the faintest glimmers of light could be seen through small cracks in the ceiling, but they did nothing to illuminate the sinister shadows that surrounded Drew. He gave an experimental jerk on his bindings to find they were tight.

“Hello, is anybody there?” Drew called in a hesitant voice; half afraid someone would answer him. But the only sound that greeted his squeaking tenor was the noise of scurrying feet. A rat, at least he hoped it was a rat.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply trying to enter a meditative state. The skittering noise in the darkness grew louder and louder. His consciousness reached out, into the stone of the wall.

It was hard to work with earth, it was like moving through thick soupy mud, but his mind wrapped itself around the metal eyehook that held his chains and pulled. He fell to the hard cold floor, broken mortar and dust raining down around him. He landed on his knees, tearing a hole through the thin black fabric of his pants. The rough stone scraped the tender flesh beneath the ruined cloth, the pain making him lose his concentration and his hold on the power.

He scrambled to his feet, blood trickling down his leg. The chains still held his hands together but at least he was free of the wall. The tiny sound was growing louder, if it was rats there had to be hundreds of them. The noise echoed through the room, reverberating off the wall. Drew stepped back leaning against the stone peering into the shadows, trying to see through the darkness by sheer force of will.

What else could the clicking swishing noise be? He clenched his chains in a white knuckled grip, they were thick and well made; the heavy metal could make a deadly weapon.

Terror had him gripped tight in her firm claws. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his chest was beginning to ache from the thundering of his own heart. Drew felt his way along the walls, there had to be door somewhere. A way out of…where ever he was. He hurried along the wall, his hands feeling only the rough red brick.

It was dangerous to run in the dark, there could be anything ahead of him. But he needed to get out; he needed to get away from the noise. The blood running down his leg had already soaked into his sock, forming a wet sticky circle of warmth around his ankle.

His questing hands finally reached their goal, running over a smooth metal door. Drew stopped and focused all of his attention on the door. He could feel some kind of strange latch. His fingers fumbled around in the dark, trying to figure out the mechanism.

He sucked in a deep breath, and blew it out slowly, trying to force down his fear. He needed to calm down, the latch on the door couldn't be that complicated. The noise was closer, it sounded as if it was only a few feet away. There was a loud click as the lock disengaged and the door opened. Something slithered across the back of his leg.

Drew spun, swinging his chains wildly. The hard steel flew through the empty air to hit the wall next to him. The chains rebounded off the wall and bounced back to smash into his face.

The force of the blow knocked him off of his feet, and split open his lip. He lay on the floor for a second, dazed, his head spinning.

A sharp pain bloomed in the back of his leg, as something bit him. He swung the leg up and slammed it down against the hard stone floor. There was a loud squelching noise as he crushed something . Drew staggered to his feet. He stepped onto the torn cloth of his pants and stumbled forward, the entire leg of his pants tearing free.

He sprinted forward into the darkness; down the hall he could see the faintest glimmer of light. He ran towards the light, his forty year old body protesting every movement; he couldn't remember the last time he ran anywhere. As he ran the clicking sounds behind him attested to the necessity of his frantic escape.

He rushed into the welcome embrace of the light to discover a strange circular room. It was made of the same ancient red brick, in the center of the room there was an old table of craved dark wood. The light was coming from torches held to the wall by iron sconces. Drew grabbed one of the flaming shafts of wood and thrust it behind him into the darkness.

There was a loud screeching noise as hundreds of huge cockroach like insects scurried away from the light. Drew stepped backward appalled at the sight. He glanced down at his leg where the creature bit him. Odd black wavy lines ran along the veins of his calf up into his thigh. He needed to get the wound cleaned out.

“Not-nice-man should not be here. Should be in birthing chamber,” a child's voice whispered.

“Yes. Younglings are hungry. Must eat.”

Drew turned to see two of the little girls coming toward him. He held the torch tight; it probably wouldn't do any good. He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He needed to regain his composure. If he could just remain calm for a few moments then he could gather in the natural occult energies around him.

“What are you? Where did you come from?” Drew asked backing away, the bugs still scurried in the darkness behind him, he could only go backward so far.

“What are we,” one of the little girls said as she turned to look at the other girl, “why does he ask us this?”

“He seeks to distract us. He has read the Akashic; he already knows what we are. That is why he is here.”

“The not-nice-man is a fool.”

“Yes.”

Drew grunted, if they knew he could delve into the library of the Akashic record, a mystical archive said to hold all human knowledge that had ever been or ever would be, then they knew he was here to stop them. Drew breathed in and out slowly, forcing his fear to the back of his mind. Emotion was a dam that blocked the river of his power; he needed to clear his mind.

The tiny creatures began walking forward, their heads cocked to the side. Drew had all the time he was going to have. He needed to act.

Power flowed from the world around him; it filled him to the brim, pulsating in time to the beat of his heart. The girls stepped back as if they could sense him drawing in the energies.

It was too late for that, the steadiness of the earth under his feet filled him with a calm resolve, the vast all encompassing air he breathed filled him with confidence, the fickle hungry fire of the torch in his hands burned in his heart amplifying his power, even the tiny molecules of water vapor that floated in the air hummed in tune to his power, adding to it. He was one with all that was around him. He was one with the girls.

“It is time,” he said his voice three octaves deeper than usual.

The fire from the torch in his hands flared out into a huge circle of flame that surrounded him completely. But he did not feel the heat of the fires. He closed his eyes pushing the flames outward; they blasted down the halls, burning the insects and the girls to nothing.

Drew fell to his knees, breathing hard. The torch in his hand was just a regular light. The power was gone leaving him feeling empty and hollow. The world seemed a dull gray place compared to the shimmering splendor of just a few moments before. It was always like that whenever he used his power. But he had never used magic as a weapon before, had never trained to use it to harm others.

Using magic had never come easily to him. He struggled for every ounce of power and spent days recuperating whenever he so much as lit a candle. The feat he had just performed was awe inspiring; he had never used so much magic before.

“Not-nice-man is strong with power. He killed Emily, Elizabeth, and Samantha,” a voice echoed from the shadows.

“Not strong enough,” another voice answered.

“He forgot already,” yet another voice said. Drew scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the darkness.

“We should remind him.”

“ Do unto others, as you want done unto you,” one of the voices intoned.

Drew felt the heat from the fires before he ever saw it, and hurled himself to the ground. An inferno bounced and skipped across his back, burning holes through his black shirt, and scorching the flesh beneath. Drew howled his pain, as layers of skin were scoured from his back. Huge blisters rose up within seconds, it seemed like the flames lasted forever.

Drew limped to his feet, his back throbbing in time to the beat of his heart. He had to get out of there. He tottered down the hall, the smell of his own burnt flesh thick in the air. He should have never come; it was an idiotic thing to do. He should have never tried to play the hero.

“Come back not-nice-man, we want to play some more,” the children called, giggling like they really were the children they looked like. Drew knew better, he knew what they really were. Their innocent forms held beings that were thousands of years old.

His staggering frenzied escape brought him to another door. He could have sworn it wasn't there just a few minutes before, but he gratefully yanked it open, the burns on his back screaming protests at the movement.

The cool night air greeted him; he sucked in greedily relishing in the fresh unpolluted air. If he could get away, he might be able to call on his magic again, but he needed to reach a full meditative state and he doubted the girls would let him have the time. He was in what looked like a park.

Huge trees dotted the edge of a huge expanse of freshly cut lawn. He could see swing sets in the distance, and a slide. He forced his body to move forward, a horrible chill was coming over him; the horrendous pain in his back was growing dull. He was going into shock, and needed a hospital.

He lurched through the park, he could see street lights in the distance, and what might be the glow of a porch light. There weren't many people left alive in town, but maybe they would help him. His eyes focused on the distant target, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Why do you run?” a tiny voice asked from in front of him, as one of the girls stepped out from behind a tree.

Drew jumped back, trying to run the other direction. Tears ran freely down his face as his overwhelming sense of fear kept him moving.

“You can't get away, why don't you stop.”

Something hard slammed into his shins knocking him to the ground. He forced himself to his hands and knees, but whatever hit him, smashed into this back. He shrieked in pain dropping to the damp soil. He felt numb and cold, he shivered, and he couldn't stand anymore.

“Hello, not-nice-man. Why did you come here?” one of the girls asked walking up to his prone form.

“I know what you are, demon. I couldn't let you free. I had to stop you,” Drew whispered closing his eyes. His mind drifted, he was fading in and out of consciousness.

“Just because I am very old, and I want to exterminate the vermin of humanity does not mean that my sisters and I are demons,” the girl said in a monotone.

“Does it really matter? I felt… your evil…your power. And I… tried to… stop you,” Drew could barely speak, he felt so cold and numb. He no longer felt scared, only bone weary exhausted.

Numb.

Emotionless.

Drew reached out with his mind, and began gathering his power. The state of shock his body had entered gave him the clam emotionless state, which he needed.

“Not-nice-man!” the girl accused, as whatever it was cracked him across the back again and again. He felt his burned ruined flesh sloughing off with each blow but he didn't care. He reached down into the steady earth, drawing on the incredible power locked within it.

The other two girls screamed and ran over to his prone form. More invisible clubs pelted his body. He pushed the pain from his mind; there was only himself and the earth. A huge mound of dirt raised into the air next to him.

The girls screamed in anger and fear as the soil formed a giant fist. Something stabbed deep into Drew's back almost making him lose his concentration but he gritted his teeth finishing the magic.

The earthen hand came smashing down into the girls, they screamed and howled, as the fist of earth pounded into their tiny bodies. Flesh no matter how powerfully reinforced with magic could only stand up to the beating for so long, and soon even their whimpers of pain stopped.

Drew canceled the spell letting the earth settle back into the ground. The shapeless mounds of bloody flesh that had once been the girls didn't move, didn't speak. Drew rolled over, ignoring the sting of the earth on his maimed back. He stared up into the moonless sky, and watched the stars twinkle. It was a beautiful night.

And it was over, it was all over.

He closed his eyes and let the world flow away from him.