Copyright © 2019 James Russell Stoakes. All rights reserved.
https://JamesStoakes.com
The sun was just starting to rise when Jenny rejoined Jarred and the others in bed. Someone had tried forcing their way into the townhouse, but she took care of it.
“All set?” Jarred asked.
“All set,” she confirmed and snuggled up to Wendy’s body for warmth. “They are not going anywhere,” she said.
Jarred wondered what she meant, but he was so unconcerned about it he drifted off to sleep again. It had been a long night, and there were a few hours before the next stage.
A nearby explosion rocked the townhouse and woke Jarred. He grinned widely, “Eight o’clock,” he announced, as another explosion and screams on the street could be heard. Every ten seconds, a new explosion occurred, just like yesterday, with one difference. These explosions rained debris onto the streets as rooftop corners of buildings exploded. Fifteen hundred plastic explosives had been planted throughout the city and were now going off at planned intervals. Even the bridges across the Charles had charges on them, which might or might not take them down. They would definitely be compromised, though.
Jenny laughed, “How long will this set go on for?” she asked.
“In all, they should continue for four hours,” he answered.
“Enough to drive anyone insane,” Wendy concluded.
“That’s the plan. Last night was fun, tonight should be epic,” Jarred declared.
“This morning looks like it might be pretty good too,” Jenny said as she grabbed hold of Jarred’s growing manhood.
“How are the boys doing with their task, Sarrol?” Satan asked his buxom chief administrator. He was in a very good mood after an extensive round of humiliation torture with a group of former Hollywood pedophiles.
Sarrol flipped a few pages on her clipboard and adjusted her glasses. “Your son Eric is ahead in the quest for souls,” she said, businesslike. “It seems he has a real knack for hunting down and killing evil souls, and our ranks have swelled some from his efforts.”
“Isn’t he in Thailand?” Satan asked.
“He is,” Sarrol confirmed. “He seems very much at home there, he uses his charm to his advantage,” she added, “and he has accumulated a total of nine thousand twenty-three souls so far.”
Satan stared out into the flames outside his office. “Who’s the next highest?” he asked.
“The next highest is Jordan. He is in Mexico City,” Sarrol said.
“That place is infested. How many has he taken?” Satan asked.
“Six thousand twelve,” she answered carefully.
“I don’t feel like he’s taking his mission seriously,” Satan said. “How’s the gimp doing?” he asked lightheartedly. “Was Guzroruth able to correct his disability?”
“Guzroruth found a nice human host that caught his interest. She calls herself Jenny now,” Sorrel explained. “The ring was given to Jarred and it fixed some of his disability but not all.”
Satan frowned at the news. He still wasn’t sure what went wrong with the inter-dimensional transfer. “What’s his count,” he asked, fearing the answer.
Sarrol cleared her throat and began reading the report in front of her. “One hundred seven,” she said, “but the complete report is extensive.”
Wincing at the weak number, Satan said, “Break it down and give me the details.”
“Guzroruth, Jenny, as he knows her, has helped him bring two other demons to his side,” she said. “Sazzan and Xizzunoch. He secured human forms that appealed to both of them, and they bonded to him. They go by the names of Tina and Wendy on earth.”
“He brought two more across?” Satan asked, delighted with the news. “That takes strength.”
“He thinks that Jenny did it,” Sarrol said. “She said the words, but he was the one the power came from. She is guiding him as you instructed.”
“Anything else?” Satan asked genuinely curious about Jarrad’s progress. “He’s in Boston, right?”
“He is,” Sarrol said. “Boston is in chaos at the moment, and Jarred is experimenting with converting good souls to evil.”
Satan smiled with pride. “Keep an eye on him, I want frequent updates.”
“It will be done,” Sarrol said obediently.
The last generator was purchased earlier today, and Leon was finishing up the books and counting his cash as the sun set and the gates closed. It wasn’t bad here, there was no electricity, but the worst was north of I-90 where all the explosions happened. He would not be surprised if the fools that bought the noisy apparatus were probably already being robbed. Starting a generator in the city was like screaming into a bullhorn that you have power. Only armed groups like his had a chance of defending themselves. He didn’t have noisy generators running for his power, he had set up in advance with battery banks and solar panels on the flat roof of their main warehouse. The gang was very comfortable inside, but they had to be vigilant and defend against others.
Two Crocs had been injured last night during a firefight. The aggressors did not make it home; his men were resting and healing. The group taking the roof now had slept all day and was on high alert. Leon had made sure they were equipped with the latest night-vision goggles available.
There were rumors of the National Guard beginning to move into the area, and his men had strict instructions on dealing with them. The guns had to stay out of sight, obviously. Leon knew the chaos would not last forever. He shook his head as he sealed his cash and books away in the floor safe in his office just in case.
Leon had just settled into his armchair when Tom, his son, burst through the door. “There are fires to the north!”
They had frittered the day away and enjoyed all the pleasures the flesh allowed. “Do you feel that?” Jarred asked while laying motionless with the women.
“I felt that,” Wendy said with a satisfied sigh.
“Me too,” Jennifer said, “I’ll be feeling that for a while.”
“No, not that,” he explained, “outside.”
Tina answered first, “Despair?”
“Yep,” Jarred said, springing out of bed. “And anger,” he said, roaming around the room with his hands out to his sides, palms up as if soaking it in. Jarred looked at the glorious sight on the bed as the three nude and disheveled women on it stared at him. He grinned back at them.
“We should be able to improve our numbers tonight,” he said. “Just don’t go too wild.” This was new to Jarred. “Is this normal?” he asked. “I’ve never been able to feel the emotions around me before.”
Jeniffer smiled and answered, “It seems you are still getting better from whatever ailment you had. It would be normal for you to feel other being’s emotions and to even know their desires if you concentrate on an individual.”
Jarred felt inspired. “Let’s get moving. If you three serve me without fail to the ten thousand, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you are allowed to keep your human forms when we return to Hell.”
Private Holden ducked behind the closest vehicle. Another bullet whizzed by. They were on point and had been taking fire intermittently all day from people in the targeted zone while clearing debris from the road to move vehicles.
“Don’t these people know we are here to help them?” Private Holden yelled to his companion.
Private Dickson laughed at him; he had seen it before. “Think about it. Some of the scariest words some civilians can imagine are; I’m from the government and here to help.” He laughed even harder.
Holden scowled at Dickson. “That’s not funny. Why would you think that’s funny in this situation? Someone is trying to kill us. This is freaking Massachusetts, where did they get guns?”
“Lighten up Francis,” Dickson said, imitating Sgt Hulka from Stripes in a nasal voice. “So far, they’re just trying to scare us and pin us down.”
“Well, it’s working,” private Holden said.
“Oh, and for the record, outlawing guns doesn’t make them go away, dumbass. This is still America.” Dickson laughed again and pulled out a PowerBar to snack on. He could see Corporal Unger approaching their position, and he laughed again. “That big black son of a bitch must think he’s bulletproof,” he said softly.
Unger marched through the abandoned cars while ignoring the occasional ricochet. This wasn’t the first time he had taken fire. Some of the enlisted men referred to him Corporal Anger, they compared him to pure evil but would never elaborate. Others referred to the former Staff Sergeant as Corporal Punishment for some reason.
“What are you two oxygen thieves doing?” he said, standing in the open and staring at them.
“Taking cover, Sir!” Holden answered like a cadet.
Unger rolled his eyes. “I don’t like it, but due to conditions beyond our control, the genius’s up the chain have called us back. They’re sending in specialists to secure the area after dark.” When he was done speaking, he turned and walked away like it was any other day on the training field.
“Something’s wrong with that one,” Dickson said, staying down but following Corporal Unger.
“Son of a bitch!” Private Holder screamed as another bullet hit a vehicle nearby. He scurried to follow Dickson.