Death Cult: An Anna Hale, PI Thriller by January Bain

Author:January Bain [Bain, January]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rough Edges Press
Published: 2024-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

Screams woke him up. Loud screams. They pierced the air making it appear to vibrate all around him, making it impossible to see anything in the deep, dark mist shrouding his existence. The terrifying shouts were filled with such pain and anguish it sounded like a mortal soul had shattered into dust. Who was screaming? Stop it! Stop it! He clutched at the blankets, holding on for dear life, trying to get the terrifying sounds to go away. “No!” he shouted.

Then he realized the screams had come from him as he came further awake, the nightmare slowly losing its grip on him. Another night terror. This one worse than the last. He’d relived his own death again. The darkness and evil lurking on the other side awaited him with a finality that doomed him to never-ending pain. There would be no redemption for him. No coming back from what he had done.

Was it his fault he’d been born this way? He loved children too much, maybe that was the problem. Did that make him a bad man? One past redemption? He knew it to be true now, ever since he’d consented to Last Call. There would be no forgiveness for him. No washing away of his sins. They had all lied to him. Said it could be done. That God forgave all.

His sin had been judged to be too dark, too evil for him to escape final judgment. Life was now impossible, knowing what awaited him.

A nurse came rushing into the room, her expression equal parts exasperated and concerned. His night terrors were happening more frequently. At least once every hour he was awakened by screaming, his own. There would never be any relief for him. He would end it all if only he wasn’t going straight to hell to live among them. The damned.

“Are you in any pain?” the nurse he knew as Jackie asked, her forehead creased into a frown.

He could only stare at her with disbelief. How could she not see it? His evil was leaching out of him, an oily black tar substance sticking to everything he touched or looked at. Even now some of it dripped from her chin, making her appear ghoulish. He blinked the image away. It’s not real, he tried to comfort himself. But the idea persisted. Was she one of them? A collaborator with Satan’s army?

All he knew for certain was he could never die. Not with what waited him on the other side. But he was living in a century when it had yet to happen. Immortality. If only he’d been born in the future. Maybe if he hung on long enough, a breakthrough would happen? A faint hope at best, but he needed something to soothe him, to keep him from going mad.

“I’ll give you something to sleep,” she said.

“No!” The last thing he wanted was to relive the nightmare again. The black maws of death, the sharp pinchers tearing at his skin, the fierce fire singing away all his hair.

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