In Darkness Dwells

"You're going to need a bigger cage," Sam whispered beside Volker.

Sam now understood how the monster had carried away so many bodies and why he left those marks on the ground. It had loaded its stomach with corpses until it dragged through the soil. Everyone was gripped by fear, but it was now or never.

"Now!" Sam shouted.

At that moment, torches lit around the pen, and everyone with a gun opened fire. Buckshot, dear slugs, and rifle rounds riddled the monster's body, drawing a howl of fury and pain but failing to do any real damage. Rathodor charged towards a nearby house where several men were shooting from. It raised one of its massive arms and carved the place open like he was splitting firewood. Everyone kept shooting, managing to rip chunks of flesh off, but it just wasn't enough.

"It's not working!" Volker cursed as he ejected two empty shell casings from his shotgun.

"We have no choice, everyone, chop him up!" Sam shouted. All the men with their melee weapons charged, Sam himself wielding an axe. They surrounded Rathodor, now howling furiously and swinging its massive arms. It managed to strike one man, ripping him in half at the waist, then stabbed another through the chest. "It doesn't matter if someone dies! Ignore everything and focus on the attack!"

With that brief opening, the others all got close and began hacking away with their weapons. Wielding hammers, axes, sickles, scythes, and pitchforks, they attacked with everything they had. Their weapons did more damage than the bullets, though Rathodor wasn't going down. Instead, it lashed out, forcing the men back to avoid its swinging arms. Anyone who got too close was ripped to shreds, and their eviscerated corpses were scattered across the ground.

Spotting an opportunity, Sam ducked down under Rathodor's swinging arms and swung his axe, striking the monster's left knee. It howled and dropped down, no longer able to move its body. All the men attacked again, knowing they couldn't let this chance slip by. Rathodor tried to fend them off with its arms, so they focused on hacking them off like cutting down trees, and when it swung wide, they'd aim for its torso and head.

Snarling in fury, Rathodor reached out and grabbed one man, the youngest of all the fighters. He cried in terror and tried to wriggle free, but the demon's hold was firm. The other men attacked with relentless desperation, but ultimately, all they could do was watch as Rathodor's head split open and enveloped the young man's, vacuuming the brain out of his skull and taking his soul in the process. Once it had its fill, Rathodor hurled the corpse like a cow caught in a tornado, striking another fighter and shattering his skeleton.

Rathodor then released a threatening howl and slashed the ground with its arm, sending a wave of earth at the men and forcing them to shield themselves. The demon then took off, its knee having healed enough to carry its body. It was heading straight for the tavern, where most villagers had gathered. Sam, Volker, and the other men chased after Rathodor, trying to cut the monster down, but it fended off their attacks with its mighty arms.

One man tried to strike from behind, but the jagged spikes growing out of the monster's back lashed out and impaled him, filling his body with holes. Finally, one man with a scythe scored a lucky hit, slashing the monster across the stomach with a wound that reached down deep. Toxic fluid and rotting flesh poured from the opening, and Rathodor groaned in a way no one had heard before, an almost pitiful rumble of pain. It covered the gash with its hand and increased its speed, charging towards the tavern like a runaway train.

Still with his shotgun, Volker got in the way and took careful aim. He fired two shells at once, striking Rathodor in the right eye and destroying the entire skull segment, leaving the demon with three mandibles. Rathodor screamed and smacked Volker aside in retaliation, then charged and tackled the tavern. It burst through the front wall, trying to crawl in and get the food inside. The women and children shrieked in terror, staring straight at the face of evil and hearing its horrific howl.

Several women gathered their nerves and spears and tried to drive it out while the men attacked it outside. Rathodor released a snarl and pushed itself up, breaking the ceiling and causing the front of the inn to partially collapse. It then turned around, returning its attention to the puny men slashing and beating it with their weak weapons. A swing of its arm slaughtered half a dozen of them, producing a cloud of vaporized blood that caught the moonlight.

There were only a handful of fighters left, Sam included, and they had earned Rathodor's ire. However, there was a reason these men had lasted the longest. Like Sam, they were veterans of the Great War. They knew the thrill and terror of battle, the strength and bravery required, how to move and fight like their lives depended on it, and had unlocked that primal instinct that drove men to draw blood. They gripped their farming tools, now the weapons of warriors, and attacked all at once.

Rathodor slashed at them with its mighty arms, but its movements were broad and obvious. They could now dodge and close in, striking direct blows to the body. A slash across the neck, a hammer blow to the leg, a stab to the gut, an axe strike to the lower back; they rained attacks on Rathodor while avoiding its counters. No blood was sprayed from the wounds, but its flesh was tearing away, and the muscles underneath were shredding. However, Rathodor showed no signs of slowing down. They needed one more factor to cinch it, and soon enough, she arrived.

Sorine ran out into the street with two oil lamps in her hands. Using fire as a weapon had been considered and dismissed out of fear of destroying the town, but victory would not come by holding back. "Rathodor!" she shouted, drawing the demon's attention. "Go back to Hell!"

She hurled the first lantern, striking the monster in the chest and spraying it with burning oil. The flames took to its flesh like dry birch bark, and it released a true howl of agony. The second lamp landed at its feet and shattered, with the flames coming up from below. With a spear in her hand, she joined the men, throwing everything they had at Rathodor. Devoured by fire, the monster was too blinded by pain to attack or defend. Sorine and the men assaulted Rathodor from all sides, continuing to slash and hammer with endless ferocity.

Those with guns once more began firing, aiming for openings in the attacks. Rathodor's tough exterior was being burned and hacked away, and their bullets drove in deeper. Volker, back on his feet despite his fractured ribs, was putting round after round in the monster's chest, filling its torso with nails. Finally, Rathodor turned and began to hobble off, putting all its remaining strength into escape.

"Don't let him get away!" Sam shouted.

They tried to chase it down, but despite it wounds and heavy body, the burning demon was moving with great speed, like a fiery meteor. Sorine and the men got on horses and followed Rathodor up the nearby mountain, winging his back with shotguns and rifles. Then, as the sky began to brighten, they spotted Rathodor approaching a cave, dropping vertically like a mineshaft. They managed to get ahead of him and continued the assault from all directions. Sam raised his pistol and fired one round, striking Rathodor's remaining eye and blinding it. The monster released a wild swing, slashing him across the chest. Sam was knocked aside with his blood flowing freely, and the monster dove into the pit, disappearing beneath the mountain.

----------

Sam didn't know when he woke up, only that it was with a groan of pain. He was in his room at the tavern, and the sun shone right into his eyes. He tried to sit up but felt hands push him back down.

"You shouldn't be moving yet," said Sorine.

"How long have I been out?"

"Most of the day. Rathodor got you across the chest, but fortunately, it was just a flesh wound. You have a lot of stitches, but you'll be fine."

Sam looked at the thick layers of bandages wrapped around his chest and huffed.

"What happened?"

"He disappeared down that tunnel, but going in after him just wasn't feasible, so we retreated. Right now, we're all praying that he died from his wounds beneath the mountain, but I suppose we won't know if that's the case until nightfall."

"Where is my gun?"

"What?"

"My gun, do you have my gun?"

"Yes, it's right here."

She handed him his revolver, and he checked it. He had two bullets left. He released a deep sigh of relief. "Do you think he's dead?"

"I don't know. Volker doesn't think so. He's still working on those papers from Danut's house. Anyway, that's not something for you to worry about. Right now, you just need to focus on getting better."

"Some whiskey would really help."

"Fine, fine, I'd say you'd earned it."

She left the room and came back with a bottle and two glasses. "A toast," she said after filling them with amber brew. "To victorious Runa." She downed her whiskey and immediately broke into a coughing fit.

"You're not much of a drinker, are you?" Sam asked,

"No, but with these last several days, I feel like it's a good time to start. If my past self could see what I've become, I don't think she'd recognize me. I don't think my father would either."

"Maybe not, but I think he'd be proud. You were very impressive last night, I mean it."

She smiled. "Thank you. I'm proud of you as well. You know, you never explained why you were so willing to get back into the fight. You said you quit, then after putting a bullet in that thing's chest, you rejoined Volker and me like it was completely natural. What changed your mind?"

Sam sighed and emptied his glass. "My grandfather fought in the American Civil War, and I was raised on his stories. He was just one soldier in a humungous war, but he helped bring the country back together and end slavery. I always wanted to be like him, so when America entered the Great War, I was ready.

This was to be the war to end all wars, and I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to say I helped win the most incredible fight in the history of mankind and that I accomplished something like my grandfather. All those months of fighting, of suffering in those trenches, of watching my guys get mowed down and blown to smithereens, I kept telling myself that it was all worth it, that it was leading to something incredible. I was a fucking idiot.

You can't see it under all these bandages, but that cut Danut left is not the worst wound I've received. Have you ever heard of the Meuse--Argonne offensive? It was one of the war's last battles and a giant bloody clusterfuck for the Americans. After weeks of fighting, I got caught in a blast from a grenade and ended up with a chest full of shrapnel. I should have died, but my friends dragged me back to safety, and the field doctors went to work on me, carving out every piece of metal. I was conscious the whole time, able to feel every cut and suture. I remember praying to God, begging Him to either steady their hands or let me die, but I pulled through and woke up just like this in a military hospital.

By the time I was healed, the war was over, and we were all going home, and all I could think was, "that's it?" All the blood that we spilled, all the money these countries spent, all the land scorched and poisoned, what was it for? Who did I kill that needed to die? What did I fight for that was worth protecting? What noble cause almost took my life? But the only good thing to come out of this war was the end of the war itself. All those men killed and died for nothing more than an eventual stop to the killing and dying.

I decided I couldn't accept it. I couldn't go home with nothing but stories of anguish and survival. I didn't come to Europe just to suffer. I didn't go through all that pain just to say, "this happened to me." I came here to accomplish something, so I could say, "this happened because of me," and I wasn't going to leave until then. So, I sent a letter to my family saying I wasn't ready to come home yet and decided to travel around these lands, searching for something meaningful to make everything worth it, but nothing I did felt right. Every time I did some good deed, I'd remember the men I killed, think back to those battles, and ask myself if what I did made up for all that. It didn't.

Then, the other night, when I saw Danut standing in the room just down that hall, I knew I was looking at evil itself, and I understood that this was something worth fighting. Killing this monster and saving a town from its reign of terror, that was something worth doing. I could finally go home and say I accomplished something that mattered, that everything I did and all my time in Europe was worth it for this one task. At last, I had found purpose."

The two sat silently for a moment, then Sorine leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "Consider that a reward for your patience, for looking for a noble path."

"A proper reward would involve less clothing, but I'll take what I can get."

"Oh please. With that gash on your chest, you can't even lie on your back without whimpering."

"Yeah, good point. The spirit is willing, but the flesh feels like hammered shit."

Sorine rolled her eyes and sighed. "You're pathetic. Don't tell anyone I did this."

She then reached her hand under the covers and grabbed his member.

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed as she began to jack him off. "Is this your first time? Because it sure doesn't feel like it."

"Just be quiet, will you?" she groaned.

As her strokes became more rigorous, the vibrations moved through his body and agitated his wounds. He began to writhe and hiss in pain, with Sorine failing to keep a straight face. "See what I mean? Look at yourself! You can't even handle this much!"

"Don't stop!" he moaned while trying not to cry.

"For the love of God, is this really worth it? I know it hurts."

"Hurts so good!"

Sorine broke into a laughing fit, not stopping until Sam finally experienced a full release.

"Oh sweet Christ, I needed that," Sam sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, glad I could help. But that's all you're getting."

"I think I love you."

"Shut up," Sorine sighed as she left the room.

No attack came that night, to the relief of everyone. The monster had surely perished, and they could breathe freely again. The next day, two trucks full of Romanian soldiers came up the road to Runa. Everything was still in the process of returning to normal, and the fortifications around the Town Square and the damaged buildings drew strange looks from the soldiers as their trucks came to a halt.

"I am Captain Costi Matei of the Romanian Land Forces. Who is in charge of this town?" their commander announced. No one answered him, as no one was in charge. "I ask again, who is the leader of this town?"

"We have no leader," said Sorine, stepping out of the tavern. "Our mayor was killed days ago. I am Sorine Bucur, daughter of the former priest."

"Your mayor was killed? Killed how?"

"Can I first ask what you are doing here, Captain?"

"We are investigating a train derailment. It happened several days ago, but the tracks throughout the mountains have been ravaged by rockslides. Getting here was difficult, especially since your town isn't on the map."

"We know about the crash and have been sheltering those who survived. I'm sure they would be overjoyed to finally reach Bucharest. But if you don't mind, we could certainly use your help rebuilding."

"What has happened here, Mrs. Bucur?"

From inside the tavern, Volker watched as Sorine recanted the events of the past several nights. He couldn't hear the conversation or read lips, but the body language of everyone involved let him follow the dialogue perfectly. Captain Matei first seemed dubious of her claims, believing them to be a joke, and the soldiers behind him exchanged glances and snickered. As she continued, he became irritated and dismissive, looking like he was about to demand to speak to a man. Then, as she pointed out the damage Rathodor had caused and described the casualties, he became tense, realizing that this wasn't simply a hoax or a woman's hysterical fantasy.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, coming down the stairs. He was very sore, wincing with each step.

"Soldiers have arrived. Sorine is telling them what happened."

"Well it's about damn time they showed up. How is it going?"

"They seem skeptical. I think she could use some support."

"Imagine our luck, getting visited by the only Romanians in the country that don't believe in monsters and folk tales." Sam then left the tavern and walked over to Sorine and the soldiers. "Hello, I'm Sam Wilks, one of the survivors of the train crash."

"Mr. Wilks, this woman here has been telling us quite the story about a rampaging monster. What do you say to this?"

Sam raised his shirt with a grimace, showing the soldiers the bandages wrapped around his chest, with the bloodstain line that had soaked through. "That monster slashed me across the chest after I put a bullet in its eye. If you don't believe us, we could take you on a tour through the local cemetery, let you see all the graves it dug up."

The captain seemed afraid to take them up on their offer, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. They showed him the deconsecrated church, the destroyed graveyard, the damaged buildings, and the graves of all those who died fighting the monster. Finally, they spoke to Volker.

"I've been working on translating these notes from Danut's home. What you saw out there was no accident. He summoned this specific demon and let it inhabit his body to wreak havoc."

"My God," Matei said as he held up one of the pages, inscribed with a pentagram for calling forth monsters from Hell.

"As you can see, while you and your soldiers were getting lost in the woods, we've been fighting for our lives. You sure took your sweet time getting here, Captain," said Sam.

"We will help you rebuild and then bring all the train wreck survivors to Bucharest. My superiors need to know what happened here."

The soldiers left the tavern, and Volker returned to his work. Translating these pages was a domineering challenge, but learning helped quell the sense of dread he felt in the back of his mind. If Rathodor returned, he wanted to be ready. He worked through the day and into night, pausing to drink with Sam and the villagers. Once all was quiet, and the tavern was empty, Sorine approached.

"You should burn those pages."

"You sound just like Sam. You have no idea how valuable these pages are."

"All they'll do is corrupt and destroy. The threat of that demon will always remain as long as those pages exist."

"You're right, these pages are absolute evil, meaning if they exist, so too must absolute good. As horrible as they are, these pages prove that God is real. As the daughter of a priest, shouldn't that have some weight?"

"My father died because the exorcism failed. God didn't kill that monster, we did."

"I hope this incident hasn't cost you your faith."

"All I know is that if there was ever a time for God to show He cared and show His power, it was then, and that time came and went. What am I supposed to feel after the things I've seen? What am I supposed to believe when my father, the man who taught me my beliefs, died because those beliefs failed him? You said that ultimate evil is proof of ultimate good, but what value is ultimate good if it fails us when we need it?"

"Perhaps ultimate good isn't something to rely on, but something to strive towards. Like the creation of a utopia; even if it is impossible to seize, it should always been reached for."

"I find myself wondering if maybe this isn't a matter of the power of God failing, but all a part of His plan. My people and I are all the descendants of devil-worshippers. Maybe this monster's arrival wasn't simply an accident or the endeavor of a madman. Maybe it was retribution, all of us paying for the sins of our ancestors. What if the exorcism failed, not because God wasn't strong enough, but because He decided that this was our fate."