Demons 3 Draft 1 CH 03 (Patreon)

I stand after a few minutes and look out the window. I see houses in the distance and can make out the sounds of people. I open the window and lookout. A path in front of the house leads to the cluster I can see, the side is grass, and the back has more of it, and what might be a garden. The three-line is in the distance.

I close the window when Moores approaches the door and sit on the bed. I can’t lie down. I need to move, go outside; see where I am, who these people are. The door opens and the man stumbles in carrying a screen. I catch him, make sure he doesn’t drop it.

“Thank you.” He places it on the dresser. “But you should stay in bed. You still have healing to do.”

“I’m feeling better. How can I repay you for your generosity before I leave?”

He places a hand on my shoulder and takes it away as I flinch. “You need more rest. The best way to replay me is to make sure you don’t leave too soon. You might not be as lucky next time as to be found.” He hands me a remote. “I know it can feel daunting, but resting is the best thing you can do. I’m afraid this is an older model. It doesn’t have voice control, but it’s connected to the town’s net, and that had a connection to the district’s network. I’m sure you can find a show to keep you entertained.”

The controls on the remote are clearly labeled; symbols, instead of words. I turn it on and Moores smiles before leaving.

I attempt to sit and watch a show, then another, but as always, I don’t understand the point of them. In one a man and woman argue and before I can work out why they are kissing. In another police officers chase someone through a city. I watch long enough for the driver to ask his partner about her love life and go to another channel. Why create a fictional version of things that happen? Why not simply record officers doing their work?

Humans confuse me.

After a show with a demon hundreds of feet tall destroying a city, I find a news outlet. Stories of humans committing violence on one another. Demons attacking humans. The army hunting demons. The army winning the fight against demons. Natural disasters.

I stop pacing when I notice Anounga in the crawling text under the woman speaking.

Turtines, Anounga capital, identified as the epicenter of the sickness. As I read it, the woman speaks about it.

“Earlier this week, the medical Branch of the Anounga military department, in conjunction with the surrounding districts, has confirmed that Turtines is where the sickness originated from. While they still haven’t been able to determine how it came to be, they traced its patch back to the capital.

“Turtines made the news a few years ago as the first city to be confirmed as being free of demon activity after a push by the military to ensure the citizen’s safety. Not long after that, the push was extended to surrounding cities. Anounga was demon free for only a year before it made the news again as the first reported case of the sickness came to light.

“Scientists are working hard to determine its cause as well as its vectors of contagion. As when it was first identified, they are recommending people in affected regions avoid contact with others, wash their hands with warm water and disinfecting soaps, as well as ensure all food preparation surfaces are thoroughly cleaned.

“The military is indicated they will be setting up camps for infected people to be taken to and treated. They are confident that a cure is only days away.”

I turn it off. The news is much the same as the last time I listened to it, and while I know it’s no longer a lie being engineered to control my view of the world, I wonder how much of it is engineered to control the view of the people living in the world.

Adam’s army of demons was never mentioned by the news, even though they took over an entire city. The news never speaks of the experiments the military does to create people like me, in their effort to kill demons. The news never talks about demons being more than monsters set on killing every human, or that their growing aggression is because humans are destroying more and more of the wild to make room for their cities.

I cannot tell if the news is simply another form of the fiction humans create to fill their days, instead of doing something about what they consider needs to be resolved.

A door in the house closes, and out of the window, I watch Moores head to the cluster of houses. I wait until he disappears, then opened the window and feel for a grip above it. I cannot stay in this room, I cannot lie or sit anymore.

I pull myself through the window and climb to the roof. It’s angled and climbing to the peak is precarious, but once there I encounter a problem, I never dealt with previous times I was among humans. A lack of roofs. I prefer traveling over rooftops when I want to be unnoticed. People don’t look up, and I can usually jump over even the wider streets unnoticed.

The town itself begins at the cluster. Is this house far to keep me away from everyone else? Does Moores actually live here? Or was that a lie? I can’t tell by the scent, that cleaner masks any other scent in the house.

I can reach the town unnoticed. Run to the treeline, follow that to the building, and then… what? I can tell from here they are close enough I can travel from rooftop to rooftop, but they are lower to the ground, two stories at most. How easy will it be for the people to notice me jumping over a street?

If they follow the instructions and remain inside, I’ll be fine.

I reach the edge of the town without problems, but I can hear people walking and talking outside the houses. They don’t seem to care about the sickness. I reach the back of the closest house and smell the same acrid smell on its walls. It’s embedded into the wall. Not as strong as inside Moores’s house, but it was scrubbed on this wall. I moved to the next one, and it’s there too.

Maybe that’s where their confidence comes from? They disinfect not only themselves, but every building? Moores said they can’t afford to isolate themselves. This might be their attempt at keeping the sickness away. I approach, remaining against to wall to avoid drawing attention.

The street is busy, but there are no cars. Carts with vegetables are pulled by animals I haven’t seen before. Something they domesticated. People talk, interact, do business with.

The sense is different from the cities I’ve been to. They lack the urgency that permeates them. Even when someone runs, it doesn’t carry the desperation of people in the city who are late.

I watch them, staying in the shadows of the houses as much as possible. I know people are not all the same, but this is the first time I have encountered a group where the majority seems to be taking their time. Seems to be kind to one another.

Do humans become more aggressive toward one another when the numbers become too large? If that’s the case, why do they congregate in such large cities? I shake my head to clear it. Humans and their actions are not my concern. I didn’t ask to be brought here, I am not interested in interacting with them.

I turn to head to the forest, to leave, as the wind shifts and brings a scent to me that shouldn’t be there. That can’t be there. I turn back toward the town’s road and sniff the air. The scent is faint, difficult to catch with that acrid smell that permeated everything, but it is distinctive.

Somewhere in this town, there is a demon.