THE DEMONS by Steven Havelock
 
Have ever you had a dream so real that you didn’t know if you were dreaming or if was real?
 
“Man! You won’t believe what I got hold of today!” James told Alan.
 
“Fentalanol?” It was cold, no central heating, no carpet and no wallpaper, just the smell of faeces, sweat and urine.
 
“No bro, something a hundred times worse!”
 
“What the hell could be a hundred times worse?” asked Alan, shivering, not sure if it was due to the cold wind that came through the broken window or excitement for the new drug.
 
James drew up two needles with the drug, handed one to Alan and said, “Bon voyage!” and with that injected himself.
 
Alan saw his eyes close in the bliss of an orgasm. Then James collapsed backwards onto the dirty mattress of the bed he was sitting on.
 
Alan stared at the needle he was holding.
 
Dare I do it? Or should I wait until James awakes? If he …awakes?
 
There was one reason that Alan took drugs…the memories…. memories of a horrific upbringing. The memories were always there, waiting on the peripheral edge of his consciousness to come and haunt him.
 
He stared at the needle.
 
What the hell!
 
He injected the creamy liquid into his groin, the only place that he could still inject in after years of injecting.
 
 
Alan was in the C.I.A.
 
“Okay guys, does everybody understand their role?”
 
All two people in the team nodded an affirmative.
 
“Alan? You know what you got to do?” asked Matt the cell leader.
 
Alan nodded.
 
“Yes, just another terrorist that we got to take out.”
 
An hour later the two of them were dressed in sport clothes and had tennis rackets. “Target approaching,” said Ian into their in-ear mikes. He was posted outside the hotel in a car.
 
Then a man dressed in a smart black suit, entered the hotel lobby. The two of them were chatting as if they had just had an exciting game of tennis.
 
You are not where you think you are! Alan heard the voice in his head.
 
They followed the man in the suit to the lifts. The two of them entered the lift along with the bearded man in the suit.
 
“Going down?” asked Matt.
 
A look of confusion flashed across the bearded man’s face.
 
Matt pointed the edge of the tennis racket at the man and pressed a small button on its side. A Taser wire shot out sending 60 000 volts through the bearded man. He gave a yelp of pain as the electricity coursed through his body, the look of pain was indescribable.
 
You are not where you think you are.
 
Doctor, we’re losing him!
 
Give him adrenalin!
 
The words fluttered through Alan’s mind for a second. Then he was back in the present. He pulled out an opiate syringe, slammed it into the bearded man’s back and pushed down on the top, flooding the man’s body with the opiate.
 
The man collapsed to the floor.
 
Dead for sure thought Alan.
 
The lift opened up onto the top floor.
 
The assassination had taken only about thirty seconds. The bearded man was on the floor convulsing in his death throws.
 
As the lift door opened, Alan saw a man dressed in a white doctor’s overall. He held out his hand.
 
“Come with me if you want to live,” he said.
 
Confusion flashed across Alan’s face.
 
“Don’t do it,” said Matt.
 
“What the…?”
 
“Quick, Alan, we don’t have much time.”
 
“He will take you to the demons,” said Matt in a matter of fact way.
 
“Alan, please, we’re running out of time.”
 
Alan looked at the doctor again, but this time his face seemed to blur into the faces of a few other people. A face that he had tried to forget for years appeared on the doctor’s face.
 
Sweet Pete!
 
Want a sweetie? Young boy?
 
Oh God no!
 
Then the face changed again. His dad was there and in his hand he held a thick leather belt.
 
The memories that Alan had blocked out for years were now facing him.
 
“Quick, Alan! This is your last chance!” said the doctor.
 
“He will take you to the demons,” Matt repeated.
 
Alan was a little boy again. He was in the churchyard, taking a shortcut to deliver his morning papers. It was a cold, foggy, November morning. His newspaper bag was particularly heavy today and he had to struggle to keep his balance on his BMX bike.
 
Alan stopped the bike. Going against what the shop owner had told him, he did it, he looked into the bag.
 
What the hell! House bricks?!
 
There was a growl. Out of the fog leaped an Alsatian dog and just behind him was a small dirty looking man. Alan screamed….
 
 
“Please Alan! I’m trying to save your life!”
 
“The demons are waiting on the other side, Alan,” said Matt. The lift door started to close.
 
Matt smiled at him. “Going up,” he said.
 
Alan smiled back.
 
“Yes, going up.”
 
 
 
James was at Alan’s side.
 
“Please don’t die! Please don’t die!”
 
The paramedic shocked Alan’s heart.
 
“Nothing! No pulse!”
 
“Again!” cried the other paramedic.
 
 
 
The lift doors opened and Alan felt so blissfully happy.
 
I have escaped the demons at last. Jack! Jack will be here!
 
He saw a small boy about six years old. Jack, who had died in a car accident just outside his school.
 
That maniac had been speeding.
 
Jack ran up to him and they hugged. Tears of happiness streamed down Alan’s cheeks.
 
“Don’t cry, dad. We’re all safe and happy here.”
 
Alan wiped away the tears, picked up Jack on his shoulders and as he exited the lift a blissful feeling entered his body.
 
Not the kind of bliss drugs give, only the kind of bliss God can give, thought Alan.
 
 
“We lost him,” said the paramedic sadly...
 
Tears streamed own James’s cheek. He knew that a new demon had just been added to his long list.
 
“No! Oh God... Please noooooooo!”
 
THE END

 
 

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