NOTE: It is advised to have read previous parts first
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Part Five - The Ambush
"Be as beneficent as the sun or the sea, but if your rights as a rational being are trenched on, die on the first inch of your territory." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
It had been a quiet day, and as the hours ticked away towards the afternoon, the traffic began to lighten and the streets began to empty. Leslie was browsing through the extensive shelf of books while Darren looked through the various items hanging from the cieling. They'd decided they needed some kind of protection from the dark spirits and had payed a visit to a local New Age and Pagan/Fortune Telling shop, after blessed items that would provide it to them. Darrens gaze was locked on an item that seemed to jump out at him from the rest, a purple stone inside a rigid frame.
"The warriors protector stone."
Darren jumped. The voice had startled him. He looked behind and found Lady Jess, the owner of the shop, stood looking at the item he had too been looking at. "Protects from spells and negativety. Gives its owner protection and energy. Is that what you're after?"
He looked across the room to Leslie, who had caught in on the conversation and was making her way across, nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes," Darren replied, "That's perfect, actually."
"Well then, you're in luck - today they're only £12.99."
"Because my spirits told me that someone who would greatly need this item would visit, but would not be able to spare more than that amount." She flashed a smile at the two of them and made her way to the counter.
Darren and Leslie were not sure if she meant the comment seriously - if she had, the part about them needing protection wasnt exactly a morale booster - but they followed her with the item and placed it on the counter. Then they saw something else that caught their eye. A wallet, and one they'd seen before.
"That wallet." Leslie pointed at the object, not exactly sure where she remembered it from.
"That thing?" Lady Jess asked, "Thats our Lost and Found section. A customer left it behind yesterday morning, i was hoping they might pop back in and pick it up."
"Do you mind if we take a look?"
"Sure, go ahead."
As Lady Jess put Darrens money through the till, Leslie flicked open the wallet. Then her face contorted in shock as the drivers license picture stared back at her, named Terrence Bowen. "That's him!" She screamed, "That's the fucking guy that we found!"
Leslie slammed the ID down on Detective Jones's desk. "Its him, here's the proof." She stated, relieved, as if the dead cert evidence was enough to bring him down. "He left this behind in Lady Jess's shop," she indicated to Jess, who had accompanied them, "This is the wallet we saw - he's the fucking dick that came after us."
Detective Jones stared down at the wallet. "We know."
"Those officers we sent to his old house - they're missing, presumed dead. We've checked the place out again but there's nothing there. Someone was recently, though, and the walls are covered in blood. It's almost certainly him."
"He has killed again." Lady Jess spoke, "I gave him a reading and his soul was being corrupted. I told him how to save himself but he obviously didnt do it. Blood has been spilled, and not just those of your officers."
"That's a lot of information, ma'am. Mind if i ask how you know all of this?"
"Im a clairvoyant. It's my job."
"A clairvoyant. I see." Jones shook his head and mumbled quietly to himself. This whole case was becoming more surreal and ridiculous by the minute.
The four stood in silence for a few minutes taking it all in before Darren spoke. "So what happens now?"
"Luckily, we've managed to find someone who might be able to help us. Excuse me one moment," He pressed the button on his speaker phone and spoke into it, "Rachel, send her in."
The door behind him opened and an attractive, young girl walked in. She was in her early twenties, had dirty blonde hair and was a few months pregnant, a slight bump noticable beneath her tight pink jumper.
"Leslie, Darren, i'd like you meet Lisa Etherington. She's Terrence's Ex-wife. She's going to help us with our investigation."
* * *
Setekh watched from the darkness. It sickened him. Young, carefree, no respect for the homeless. He stood, disguised by the shadows, as a gang of yobs came down the alley in his direction, laughing and joking amongst themselves. It reminded him of when he'd been attacked a few nights previous, when he was still a mere human. When they'd rained punches and kicks at him, and spat at him. When they robbed him of what was left of his shattered dignity.
The sound of their voices loudened as they neared. Four men and two women, undoubtably going to do drugs or have pre-marital sex, probabaly both.
One of the guys stopped with a cigarette pursed between his lips and another raised his lighter to light it. Then his eyes widened as he spotted the street lights reflecting off a very sharp and very long kitchen knife, peeping out of the shadows deliberately.
His puzzled friend had no time to ask what the fuck he was talking about as the knife slammed through his skull and pierced his brain. Setekh placed his foot on the man's back and pushed him off it, before stabbing it into the next nearest victim, who caught it in her arm. The two remaining men launched themselves into him and one produced a flick knife, the other smashing his still-full bottle over Set's head. It shocked him for a second as the glass shattered down his back and the alcohol inside drenched his Trenchcoat, but he turned around and jammed the knife as near up the culprits nose as he could manage. The blade lodged in his nostrol bone and lifted him a few feet off the air. His friend - who had told the two females to run, and they had - fell to the ground in shock and repulsion. Setekh positioned the dangling body over him like a broken doll and then allowed it to slide off onto his horrified buddy. Then he thudded the metal toe-cap of his boot into the guy's face, sending him reeling backwards into the ground, head first with a bone-crunching splat.
He set off the way the girls had run, gathering pace and sprinting after them - his coat flapping behind him like some kind of superhero cape. Eventually he could hear their tormented screams as they argued between themselves over what to do, screams that quickly turned into ones of horror as he appeared behind them, grabbing the cute blonde by the back of her neck and pulling her backwards into his chest. Her brunnette friend ran forward, not daring to look back, fearing what image the continuous sickening thuds were attatched to. Then she tripped over her high heels, and attempted to pull herself back to her feet against the wall but her ankle was sprained. Setekh towered over her.
"Get the fuck away from me," she cried, blood now pouring out of the grazes on her leg. "you fucking tramp."
Setekh took a deep breath, as those last words filled him with a deadly reminder of why he hated her and her friends so much. He remembered every painful punch and kick he'd recieved with the line 'fucking tramp', and swung his knife-hand out around him in a neat semi-circle from left to right. An inch of the tip sliced straight through her throat and, before letting out a few desperate, gurgling attempts to breath, she collapsed to the ground, dying.
Setekh stared down at her for a second. She was going to fucking pay for that, they all were. Simply killing them wasnt enough. He raised the knife high above his head, leaned back on his heels and prepared to make a huge, decapitating-swing to the pavement. A hand reached out before him in the 'stop' position.
"No, Set." It was the Occult leader, this time on his own. Setekh hadnt seen him appear, or even know that he was there. "They're no good to us if you decapitate them. Leave them as they are and bring them to us."
Knowing that after the loss of contact with the investigation team, the police would send out a full squad, they'd moved the bodies into the London Underground via a nearby passageway into the dark, dank tunnels.
The leader re-enforced his point. "As they are."
Setekh tilted his head and stared at him in disbelief, as if psychically communicating that he was going to fucking destroy them, no matter what he said.
"Well, then. In that case, i'll take care of it."
Setekh lifted the knife again, but just as he prepared to lunge it down, the girls body disappeared in thin air. He stared down, searching for where it could have gone. Then he stared acusingly at the leader.
"Come home, Set."
Setekh swung the knife out to kill him in frustration, but he faded and vanished, just like the body, before the knife made contact. He let out an immensley frustrated grunt and slammed the knife on the ground. Being ordered around was becoming tiresome.
* * *
Leslie, Darren, Lady Jess and the pregnant Lisa - who was, to the shock and surprise of the others, smoking a cigarette - sat in a small, empty room but for a desk and chairs, an awkward silence sitting in the air. Finaly, Leslie decided to ask what seemed like the forbidden question.
"Should you be smoking when you're pregnant?"
Lisa stared at the stick between her fingers for a second, playfully blowing smoke out of her mouth. "Probabaly not," she pondered, "But i havnt had one in weeks. The situation calls for it." She took another drag from it, as if to deliberately annoy her fellow room occupants.
"So why did you leave him?"
Lisa looked up for a second, taking the question in and staring into space, as if she was going through the files of her memories. She laughed to herself, then turned to the pretty girl who was addressing her. "There's a lot of reasons, i cant pin it down to one, really. He was obsessed with his mother, for a start. Wanted me to be her so he could make up for all of his mistakes with her." She shuffled uncomfortably on her chair. "He also had an obsession with... with death and stuff."
They didnt really know why, but this took all of the others by surprise.
"He had autopsy pictures, i found hundreds when i emptied out the basement - that was where he used to go. He was a fucking sick, twisted pervert. It makes me sick to even think that i ever let him touch me. He used to do things to me while i slept, said it was because he wanted me to wake up with a smile on my face. It makes you wonder when you find out about his fantasies, though."
It amazed Darren how frankly she spoke about it all. There was no element of shame or embarrassment whilst talking about it, just pure disgust, hatred and repulsion.
"Put it this way, i'd hate to be one of the helpless bodies if he really has murdered anyone."
Leslie's eyes saddened, and Lisa realised instantly that she'd said the wrong thing.
"I'm sorry, did i --?"
"No, its fine," Leslie interrupted, looking anywhere but her eyes. "Its just that... he did kill people They were our friends."
"Im so sorry, hun."
"And he took their bodies."
The silence returned as the significance began to sink in, but they were all rescued from the moment as Detective Jones entered. "All right, we've got a plan of action." He sat at the desk beside them and layed a map out on the table, running his finger across various representations of streets. "We're gonna set up a trap and try to manouver him into the cemetary. Hopefully the surroundings will draw him in anyway, its just a case of grabbing his attention and getting him in there. Once we get him there, there'll be a firing squad ready to take him down."
Lady Jess was the first to pick at the idea, "He already killed three of your men," She interrupted, "What makes you think he wont do the same this time?"
"Our men will be HEAVILY armed, and they'll have shields. It doesnt matter how strong this guy thinks he is, he cant ignore the laws of physics."
"How are you going to lure him into the Cemetary?" Leslie asked.
Detective Jones stalled, trying to find the right words. Darren was the first to pick up on what he was trying to say. "They're going to use us as bait", he correctly guessed.
Jones checked that the earpiece was securely inside Leslie's ear. Darren had been fine but she had spent the last five minutes figiting and making such a fuss that he was worried it would drop out at a crucial stage and the unthinkable would happen. He took hold of her shoulders to calm her down.
"Now listen to me," he began, "We've got eyes on you both the whole time, and we're ready to step in if anything goes wrong. So long as you stick to the plan, everything will be fine."
Watchers in various abandoned buildings kept an eager eye out for any signs of Setekh. They were almost praying for the non-stop noise pollution that daytime traffic produces, that at any other time they're praying for it to stop - the deadly silence was just too much. Eventually, one of them saw the intimidating figure of, as he saw it, Terrence, making his way down a back street. He lifted his radio and quietly spoke into it. "Subject is heading your way, position 3.5."
"Copy that." Jones switched to the frequency that was specifically for Leslie and Darren's earpieces. "Our man is coming, just try to act normal. You'll be within his sights in a few minutes."
He didnt quite understand why, but it seemed like trying to NOT look like he was trying to look un-suspiscious was the hardest thing Darren had ever tried. He was convinced that no matter what he tried to do, it wouldnt look convincing. Eventually, for some reason, he settled on preparing to tie his lace.
"What are you doing?" Leslie asked.
"I am tying my lace."
"No your not, its already tied up."
"Yeah but he wont know that, will he! Right?"
"I think he will. Actually, i t--"
It was almost like she'd been removed from reality for a second, like the truth about their situation had been erased from Leslie's mind - why else would she have glanced forward and been completely frozen in shock by the figure standing at the end of the street, staring right back at her?
"Fuck. FUCK, get up."
"What?" Darren looked up, and saw Setekh watching them, inquisitively. A blood-stained knife in his hand, the trenchcoat they'd found him in still on his back, and their friends Poncho beneath it. Darren couldnt help but errupt with rage. "You FUCK! Why dont you come and see if you can fucking kill me, too, huh?"
Detective Jone's panicked voice fizzled into his earpiece. "Get out of there, now. Stick to the plan."
Leslie tugged on Darrens arm, trying to stop him from getting into a fight that he surely had little chance of winning. He continued to shout abuse, determined to get his revenge for Alice, before Leslie managed to jolt him out of his rage. Setekh was making steps towards them, it was time to run.
He followed them through the streets, constantly making ground to the point they feared they might not even make it to the cemetary, but their hearts contained enough will power to carry them through the big, rusty gate and into the grave yard. As soon as they got to the other side of the Church, two police officers grabbed them and quickly shoved them into a car, getting them out of the scene quickly.
Setekh slowly walked up the pathway, gazing left and right at all the headstones. It was like being a sweet shop, it never occured to him the countless bodies for him to defile here. The only downside was that it was without the added pleasure of getting the kill.
There was an explosion of sound infront of him. Leaves being trodden on, branches being crumpled, triggers being pulled - and suddenly hundreds of bullets thudded into his body like a swarm of angry wasps. A semi-circle of black-clothed figures wearing protective helmets and shields rose from behind gravestones, tree's and walls and each one had a rifle pointed at him. He could barely keep his balance as the force of impact tugged him in every direction.
Eventually his knife hand imploded and collapsed, untill the bone snapped and it dropped to the floor, leaving just a bloody stump. His screams of pain were nearly enough to rip through the threads that held his mouth shut, but his inability to do so made the pain even more excruciating. The fire moved downwards to his knee's, and eventually his legs began to crumble, too, untill he collapsed in a bloody heap to the ground.
The firing stopped for a second. The officers moved in closer, guns still pointed at Setekh's limp body. But he was not dead, and a second later he began to struggle, his right arm - almost untouched by the bullets - reached over desperately for the knife but it was out of his reach.
"Finish him off," Came a command, and everybody prepared to pull their triggers once once.
A second wave of bullets filled the grave yard, and Setekh felt the blood and limbs fly all around him, but he felt no pain this time. He figured that this meant he was dead, and opened his eyes, using his remaining hand to wipe away the gore from his sockets.
He wasnt dead. Infact, not a single bullet had hit him. He arched himself as far up as he could and stared in disbelief at what was happening. The officers were dropping, their shields splattered with blood from the inside, as the rain of bullets appeared to be coming down on them.
The last man dropped, and the ambushers revealed themselves. They looked military, but not in any Uniform Terrence had ever seen before. One of them - black shades covering his eyes and a long scar covering the diagonal length of his face - stood over him. His dog tags identified him as 'Renga'. He waited in silence as Setekh slowly raised himself back to his feet, making sure he grabbed his knife back on the way, removing his severed hand from its tight grasp of the handle.
Renga stared him dead in the face. "You will come with us."
Setekh was in no mood to comply with the orders of anyone who dared to speak to him in such a way, regardless of wether they'd just saved him from being cast back into hell or not, and quickly raised his arm to swing the knife down squarely in this imbeciles forehead.
Before he could make contact, he felt Renga push something into him. A sharp pain hit him in the stomach and spread out over his body, a blue line of electricity encasing him untill he dropped to the ground like a sack of spuds.
Renga re-shuffled his jacket, and called to someone behind him. "Load him into the truck, we're taking him back. Now lets get out of here before they see us."
Deep beneath the roads and pathways that snaked their way throughout London town, hundreds of rats clambered over the pile of corpses that Setekh had stacked up over the past few nights. The three hippies, the three police officers, all six of the late night clubbers aswell as dozens of other victims that Setekh had encountered that night, all lay entangled together in a small mountain of death. But suddenly, something changed. Something was different, and it was something that was enough to scare the rats off. They hurridly scurried away into the nearest shadows and deserted the decaying flesh. Then, movement that was not of the rats doing began to occur. The pile began to heave, and distort, and began to break apart.
The three occultists watched in glee. Their master had delivered to them what they seeked. That night, an army was being born. That night, every being that had died at the hands of Setekh, was returning to them to do their bidding. The dead were rising.