Episode 15 — The Devil at Our Doorstep

The church roof collapsed in a plume of fire. Sparks rained down like a meteor shower, clinging to the wind and scattering across the street. The bell continued to toll, each sound reverberating in their chests like a heartbeat they couldn’t escape.

DONG!

Back at the Scherbatsky household, there was fear in the house.

The ground ruptured first — a quiet groan, then a violent crack that split the earth like rotted fruit. From the fissures, they rose again.

The Suits.

Slick, silent, and slaughter-bound.

But this time, something was different.

The skies churned from grey to a bloody molten red, casting a strange sheen over the town like someone had placed glass stained with rage over the sun. Even the trees seemed to lean away from what came next, their skeletal branches trembling in the wind.

The first Suit stepped forward, it’s immaculate black tailored suit absorbing the dim light. A rusted chain dragged from its skeletal hand. One by one, more followed, gliding soundlessly over the ground as if the earth itself recoiled from their touch.

Then a Crimson Suit emerged.

It dragged a heavy duffel bag with its feet, scraping sparks of the stone path. It stopped before an unsuspecting townsfolk crawling desperately for safety, his palms bloodied from the jagged ground.

“Dad! Come on, run!” Yuri screamed from ahead, his small voice cracking.

The man grabbed for the Crimson Suit’s ankle with trembling fingers, a futile attempt at resistance. The contact lasted a fraction of a second before an unnatural agony ripped through his arm, burning like molten iron under his skin. He screamed, the sound ragged and wet.

“I… I can’t, son,” he gasped, choking down the pain. His eyes darted to Yuri. “Just go! Run! Get to the church! Find Pastor Mathers and Mrs. Clara!”

Tears blinded Yuri as he stumbled forward, his cries echoing through the night. He didn’t dare look back.

The Crimson Suit crouched low and unzipped the bag. From its depths, it drew a polished black ball, impossible large for its spindly frame. It cradled the weight in one hand, cocked its head to the side and wound its arm like a pitcher on the mound.

CRACK.

The ball left its grip like a canon round. The air split as it struck the man’s skull with a sickening, wet splat—so sharp and final it was almost surgical. His head flew from its that collapsed into a boneless heap, twitching once before going still.

The Crimson Suit tilted its head as though admiring its work, then calmly retrieved the dripping ball and slipped it back into the bag. It then turned and glided toward the church like a predator following scent.

Nearby, Jasmine stifled a scream, her body trembling violently as the severed head rolled across the cracked cobblestones. It bounced once, twice, before spinning to a stop in the shadows where she crouched.

She recognized the face instantly. “It’s… Mr. Kawasaki,” she croaked but quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, gagging down the bile rising in her throat.

Her grandfather’s frail arm reached across her chest, pulling her back from the horror. His grip trembled with both fear and age, but he placed himself between her and the lifeless eyes staring up from the stone.

They had been on their way to the church, just as Mrs. Clara had instructed but they had stumbled straight into a slaughterhouse. The air thick with the metallic stench of blood choking every breath. They were too far from the Church now and their home behind them was already drenched in death. With her grandfather’s limp, they do either of those options anyway.

Jasmine scrubbed the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t fall apart now. Stay alive. Get Grandfather to safety. That was all that mattered.

She dared a glance around the corner of the main road. Her stomach dropped. Dozens of Suits were marching toward the church, their black frames blotting out the streetlamps as they moved in eerie unison.

One stood apart from the rest.

This one carried a rusty chain that clinked softly with each movement. Jasmine’s heart leapt into her throat as the Suit suddenly whipped the chain forward, striking a fleeing man. The links wrapped tightly around his legs before he could scream.

And then the chain ignited.

A searing flash, a deafening bang. The man’s legs detonated in a geyser of blood and bone, hurling him onto the pavement.

Yet he didn’t die.

The man clawed forward on raw instinct, dragging himself with his hands as guttural sobs tore from his throat. The Suit watched almost amused.

With a casual flick of its wrist, the chain lashed again. The metal looped around the man’s hands, cinching tight. Another flash, another explosion. His screams ended in a gurgle as the stumps of his arms sprayed across the street.

The Suit twirled its blood-slick chain lazily, then turned away. It rejoined the others in perfect formation, the chain dragging behind it with a wet scraping hiss.

Jasmine jerked her head back, pressing herself against the cold brick wall. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

“We can do this. We can do this,” she whispered, trying to still the tremor in her hands.

Arlon cane trembling in his grip, shuffled a forward step.

“Stop,” Jasmine whispered, yanking her grandfather back.

The Chain Suit froze mid-step. Its faceless head slowly tilted, as though listening for the faintest movement. Then moved on.

Jasmine exhaled silently, “What…are…you doing grandpa? Are you trying to get us killed?”

“You should go,” Arlon said softly. “I’ll only slow you down. I’ve lived a full life, Jasmine. I’m ready….to join your mother and grandmother. I’ve been waiting so long to see them again.”

He stepped forward, his cane tapping the ground softly like a countdown.

Jasmine grabbed his coat and yanked him back so hard he stumbled.

“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed. “Do you have any idea what it felt like when I couldn’t find you? It’s taking all of my strength to hold it together right now!”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t let go.

“I know you’re tired and scared. So am I. My heart wants to tear out of my chest and run without me. But the only we’re getting out his is together. You hear me? Don’t you dare start that sacrifice nonsense. And please…..just walk faster.”

Her grandfather blinked at her fierceness. Slowly, a chuckle escaped

“You sound just like your mother,” he murmured. “She used to scold me all the time. Although…” he added, smirking faintly, “she had better manners.”

“Grandpaaa,” Jasmine groaned, but there was a flicker of a smile behind the panic.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice softening. “You’re right. My mind is calm now. Jasmine… do you have a plan?”

She straightened, scanning the street. Two blocks north. The Scherbatskys’ house. They could make it, if they moved like ghosts. But the street was exposed with no cover and the Suits could break from formation at any moment.

She glanced around and saw the solution. An old laundry line swaying gently between the rooftops. It was sturdy and could hold them both.

"Okay," she whispered. “Here's what we do.”

She pointed up.

“We cut through the back alley, take the ladder by the drainpipe and get on the roof. From there, we move building to building using the laundry line as our guide until we hit their place. You’ll need to lean on me, but we can make it.”

Arlon raised a brow. “You’ve done this before?”

“I may or may not have skipped math class once or twice,” she said, gripping his hand.

They crouched low, slipping into the alley just as a Suit drifted past the corner behind them.

The ladder groaned beneath their weight as they climbed to the rooftop. Jasmine’s muscles and lungs burned, but she didn’t look down.

From the edge of the roof, the entire town unfolded beneath them like a waking nightmare.

The Church stood in the distance, smothered by darkness. Hundreds of Suits encircled its grounds like vultures closing in dead flesh. They stood motionless—concentric rings of death, faceless heads tilted skyward as if waiting for some unseen command.

From this height, the crimson light painted them in jagged silhouettes, it looked like a halo of death.

Jasmine’s stomach knotted. She couldn’t see clearly, but the ground near the Church seemed to run with red, pooling into rivers that defied gravity.

She forced her eyes away, helping her grandfather up the next ledge.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We’re almost there.”

Inside the Scherbatsky house

Robin Scherbatsky held her hunting rifle low but steady, one eye pressed through the dusty peephole. Kovac stood beside her, an axe gripped in both hands.

Behind them, Tania and Anya crouched by the stairwell, kitchen knives clutched so tigh their knuckles were bone-white.

“I only saw three on the street,” Robin whispered. “But they’re gone now.”

Kovac nodded grimly. “We hold our ground. No matter what happens out there. Tania—when I give the signal, you grab your sister and go to the panic room. Understood?”

Tania hesitated. “They’re just… walking. Why haven’t they attacked yet?”

“Be glad they haven’t,” Robin said, eyes sharp. “The rules we lived by don’t matter anymore. We have to be prepared for anything.”

A shuffle outside. The floorboards seemed to vibrate.

Robin raised a hand—silent.

Knock-knock.

Soft. Too soft.

Kovac motioned Tania to move then

“Mrs. Scherbatsky!” came Jasmine’s voice, hushed and desperate. “It’s me!”

Robin darted to the door, squinting through the peephole. There stood Jasmine—dirt-smudged, sweat-soaked, eyes wide. Her grandfather hunched behind her, gripping her arm like a lifeline.

“Are there any Suits nearby?” she asked.

Jasmine spun a glance over her shoulder. “None right now….but they’re close. Please, let us in before that changes!”

“Sorry, get in”

Robin opened the door just enough to let them in, then slammed it shut and barred it again with her shoulder.

Jasmine collapsed against the wall, her chest heaving.

“What happened out there?” Tania asked, moving to help Arlon sit.

“They’re everywhere,” Jasmine said. “But…they’re all heading towards the Church…”

“What? Where’s Michael and Sasha?” Tania’s voice cracked.

“I don’t know. Since they left, I haven’t seen them.”

Tania turned sharply to Robin. “Speaking of which? Mom, what’s going on with Sasha? I know you know.”

Robin’s face hardened.

“I know you want answers but…”

Tania’s jaw trembled. “We deserve to know.”

Robin looked down for a long moment. Then Kovac’s voice cut through the silence.

“She’s right. It’s time, honey. There’s no more time for secrets.”

Robin inhaled sharply, bracing herself.

“Fine...I’ll tell you everything.”