“What’s the address?” he asked.
Sam took out the piece of paper from his pocket and examined it. “75 Kohler,” he said.
Joshua searched through the book and found the map he wanted. “Found it,” he said, smiling. “Luck is with us today. It’s within walking distance. Probably half an hour to an hour.” Sam looked at the map. Joshua was right; they weren’t far away at all.
Sam nodded. “Good. Let’s get going.” They rounded up Grace who seemed absorbed by some book she’d found in the fantasy section of the bookshop. Sam poked his head out the door. When he confirmed it was all clear, he led the others out of the shop.
They walked in silence, unwilling to draw attention to themselves in such an eerily quiet place. Sam could see that Joshua and Grace were finding the stifling heat unpleasant, but they didn’t complain. Anything was better than Hell.
Cars passed by, some of the occupants casting glances their way. Once, they saw a police car but thankfully, it turned down another street before it got close to them. Sam knew they would never pass serious scrutiny. For one, they didn’t possess the tattoo that marked them as followers of the Antichrist.
They came to Kohler Street without incident. It was lined with almost identical industrial shops, businesses and warehouses. 75 had ‘Cash and Carry’ written on a sign outside. It looked little different to the ones adjacent to it, but Sam supposed that was the point. Whoever was inside didn’t exactly want to advertise their presence. The front door itself was one solid sheet of iron with a tiny covered slot at eye level. Whoever these resistant fighters were, they had chosen their location carefully. The iron would certainly deter demon attack. Sam wasn’t about to touch the door either.
Joshua knocked. There was absolute silence. After a few moments, Sam’s sensitive ears picked up some movement from inside. The slot in the door slid open and two suspicious eyes glared out.
“What?” the voice demanded.
“We’re here to see … um …”
“Dan,” provided Sam helpfully. “Adam sent us.”
“What he said,” Joshua said.
The eyes looked around carefully, scanning the three teenagers and the landscape behind them. “Wrists.”
“What?” asked Joshua, plainly confused.
“Show me your wrists, stupid. Have you got the mark?”
Sam and Grace held up their wrists so the person at the door could see. Joshua held up his bandaged wrist.
“Undo that bandage,” demanded the voice.
Hesitantly, wincing with pain, Joshua did as he was told. Underneath was a wound that was scored deep into the flesh of his wrist. It was heavily scabbed.
The voice looked at it for a moment and then bobbed its head. Sam was aware that he’d been holding his breath. The slot slammed shut. After another moment, they heard the sound of heavy bolts being drawn and the door opened. Sam breathed with relief.
There was a figure standing in heavy shadow within the shop. “Get in, quick.”
They piled in. No sooner had they done so when the door was slammed shut again and the bolts drawn.
They found themselves facing three soldiers dressed in fatigues. All were armed with heavy machine-guns, currently pointed in their direction.
“Down on the floor,” ordered the man who’d let them in. “Casey, search them.”
They did as they were told while their bodies were searched by one of the soldiers.
“This is all they’ve got, Captain,” said the soldier — presumably Casey — holding up the bat bag.
“Ok, fine. Put them in the holding cell until the Colonel gets back.”
They were hauled to their feet and marched out the back of the shop into a large warehouse. The place was a beehive of activity with a great many people; some sleeping behind a partially curtained off alcove, some cleaning weapons, others working at long tables. Most were in uniform. There were a number of vehicles inside, at least two jeeps, several Humvees and what looked like an armoured personnel carrier and a light tank. The three soldiers took them to the rear of the building where there was a makeshift holding-cell consisting of bars welded into a cage structure.
Casey held the door open and gestured with his rifle. “Get in.”
“Can I talk to Dan please?” asked Sam, as all three of them shuffled into the cramped compartment. “It’s important.”
“Lots of stuff is important. You three aren’t. The Colonel might come and talk to you when he gets back. Might.”
The guards left them. Inside the cage were some dirty mattresses, rolled up into one corner.
“Well, that didn’t go precisely as we’d planned,” said Joshua.
“At least we’re here,” said Sam. “And it looks like they’re organized. It could be a lot worse.”
“Certainly could,” agreed Grace. She eyed up the mattresses. “I don’t know about you fellas, but I’m going to try and get some sleep. It looks like we could be in for a bit of a wait.”
Hours later, Sam heard the roller doors opening. He couldn’t see much through the press of bodies and activity that seemed to whirl around the newcomers, but from the glimpse he caught of the outside, it was dark. Joshua and Grace, asleep on mattresses, woke with a start, disturbed by the sudden increase in noise. Sam himself hadn’t slept — since being in Hell, he had felt refreshed. Even the injury caused by the Hellhound was healing rapidly. In another day or so he knew, it would be gone.
Another hour passed. Eventually, a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the somewhat tattered uniform of a Colonel approached, attended by two armed soldiers.
“Hello in there,” he said, standing in front of the cage. He made no move to open it. “I’m Colonel Sumner. Colonel Dan Sumner. Sorry for the inconvenience, but we do have to be very careful with newcomers. Casey told me you wanted to speak to me.”
Sam nodded. “My name is Sam. This is Joshua and Grace. Adam sent us to you.”
“Adam has sent me a number of people in the past. Why is it important that I speak to you? You’ll get out of this cage eventually, once we make sure you are who you say you are.”
“Because I’ve come here with something really important to do. But to do it, I think I’m going to need your help.”
“What’s that then?” the Colonel asked tiredly. He’d obviously been out during the day and at least part of the night. Bags were forming under his eyes.
“Get on the radio to Adam. He’ll tell you.”
Colonel Sumner sighed. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve lost contact with Adam and I really can’t spare the men to go and check up on him.”
Sam felt his heart lurch. Adam gone? Not possible! The man was larger than life, a fantastic fighter with a good soul to match. If anyone still survived, surely it was Adam.
“Then I need to speak to you alone.”
The Colonel shook his head. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’ve no secrets from my men. Tell me what you know now or not at all.”
Sam swallowed nervously. He’d been in this situation a few times recently but it wasn’t getting any easier. He took off his cap. Next to him, he heard the Colonel’s guards gasp and take a step backwards, clicking off the safety clasps on their rifles.
Colonel Sumner held one hand up. “Easy now, boys. Just simmer down. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for those horns on his head.” He looked at Sam expectantly.
“I know what it looks like,” said Sam desperately, “and I don’t blame you. I am half-demon.”The Colonel’s eyebrows rose a half-inch. His men fingered their weapons nervously. “But I’m here to help you. To kill the Antichrist.”