She didn’t know much about cars or swamps or monsters taking over holy ground. But she knew churches. And they all had a side door.
Kelly struggled as hard as he could but with four men holding him there wasn’t anything he could do. He was thrown down on the blood-spattered altar and looked up into the face of the beast that had just slaughtered Dolores. What was that thing about spitting to show you weren’t afraid? He couldn’t have spit for the life of him. His mouth was dry and he realized that he’d pissed himself. He didn’t care, he was about to die and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
“PD is going to chop you up and feed you to the gators,” Kelly said, looking at Carlane.
“By the time they come here, we will be gone,” Carlane said, laughing and holding up a hand to forestall the beast. “My Master is complete, fully manifest. No power on earth can stop him. But we will go. We will hide and bide our time. Build our strength. And then… the day of the Dragon will come again.” He waved to the beast and stood back, avoiding the blood that was about to be shed.
She had seen a steel gas tank outside the building when they had been asking futile questions. All she had to do was get inside. What she was planning was going to make her a felon at the very least. It would probably be a capital charge. Again, she wondered if she was going insane, but she knew, with rock hard certainty, that this was the Lord’s work. And if the Lord wanted her to do it, she would.
The side door, unfortunately, was locked. But that presented no real problem. She took one of the empty pop bottles out of her bag and held it against the opening on the barrel of her .45. Then she waited for another of those bestial bellows and fired a round into the lock. The sound was not as quiet as it should have been. The bottle caught most of the exiting gas that created the distinctive “crack” of a pistol shot, but some of it worked out around the edges with a sound about like a squib. This was when she needed duct tape and she chastised herself for neglecting it. However, the lock crumpled, the rotted wood shattering around it, and she dropped the bottle on the ground.
The room beyond was dark and the bellows from within the church were unnerving. But she found what she was looking for down one of the hallways. The kitchen was rank with the smell of rotting food but it had been in recent use. She turned on one of the burners and ensured that the gas was hooked up then set the AR-10 down and waited for another bellow.
What she got instead was a shriek of mortal agony but that would do. As the sound echoed she tore at the oven with hysterical strength, dragging it out and away from the wall. Then she clambered over it until she found the copper gas line, using her knife, which had a serrated portion, to saw at the line until she smelled gas leaking out. She sawed some more, pushing the line apart and hearing a hiss.
That left only one thing to do. She picked up the AR-10, stepping into the hallway as the smell of gas became overwhelming, and flipped it off safe and onto semi-auto. Then she walked to the door that should lead to the nave, under which faint light was trailing, and shook her head.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,” she whispered. “For I am the baddest bitch in the valley.”
With that she kicked the door in.
Well, at least it’s not going to rape me, Kelly thought as one giant talon reached down for him. Then there was a shot. And another. And the thing straightened up, turning its fish head to the side.
He craned his head around as one of the acolytes fell across him, his face pulped from a round through the back of his head, and saw the strangest thing he’d ever seen, including the giant monster that had been about to gut him.
It was a ninja, holding what looked very much like his AR-10, with a white shining all around him like a giant halo.
Make that “her.” The tits were distinctly noticeable.
Barb leapt through the door and took a kneeling position, scanning for targets. It was what her father would call a target rich environment. The nave was crowded with worshippers and there were several men up in the nave. There was also a giant fish thing which seemed to be preparing to rip Detective Lockhart wide open. But, for some reason, her barrel tracked onto the back of the head of the man standing at the altar and her finger stroked the trigger.
The head burst like a melon, pitching the man forward, and the giant thing straightened up as she shot two of the robed figures. Then it reached down and casually raked its talons across Detective Lockhart’ stomach, following that with picking up one of the robed figures and biting his head off.
By then the worshippers had started to react and she turned left, firing five rounds into five bodies and clearing some space. That done she darted towards the altar, dodging a grab by the giant fish thing, to reach Detective Lockhart.
He was badly torn on the stomach and the thing was standing right over him. So Barb flicked the lever to full auto and emptied the rest of the magazine into its belly.
The thing let out a bellow of pain, but the wounds closed as fast as the rounds struck, just making little pock marks like rocks dropped in a pond. The thing reached for her again and she dove to the side, rolling to her feet and slipping another magazine into the well.
As she dove to the side, the thing appeared to forget about her, stepping down off the chancel and picking up another worshipper. It gutted the man with a move like a fisherman gutting his catch and then ripped the man’s chest open and started feasting.
Barb trotted to the wounded sergeant and pulled him off the bloodstained altar, dragging him away from the kitchen side of the building.
“Can you stand up?” she asked, pulling as hard as she could. But he was a big guy and she was running on pure adrenaline.
“No,” Kelly said, blood foaming at his mouth. “Go. Get out.”
“Fuck that,” she spat, lifting him into a fireman’s carry and heading for the other side of the church. There was a door there that led directly into the nave. It was padlocked, but she was more than willing to blow the hinges off if that was what it took. The worshippers had headed for the back of the church, fleeing their “god,” so they weren’t going to be a problem.
But her move had brought her to the attention of the fish monster and it shambled towards her before she could even make it to the stairs down from the chancel.
“Begone!” she shouted, rolling Kelly down to the floor and holding up her left hand, the right holding the AR-10 like a pistol, tucked into her body. “Begone in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ! Go back to the Hell you belong in!”
The thing seemed to shudder at her shout but raised a giant hand to strike her down.
So she pulled the trigger.
What came out was nothing she’d ever seen before, a line of white fire, as if each of the rounds were white tracers and every one ran true. At the touch of the fire the thing shrieked and backed up. So when that magazine was done she slapped in the last and gave that to him, semi-auto this time, every round aimed. By the time she was done, he had backed up halfway down the nave and was on his knees, black smoke pouring from his chest, abdomen and head. But even as she watched, the damage was healing.
She hefted Kelly again and shambled for the door as fast as she could. Finally she got to it and smashed the lock with the buttstock of the gun, shattering it and making the weapon useless. So she tossed it to the side and stumbled out into the night.