Heaven's Retreat

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

It was silver and cold, the kind of voice that belonged to something far above humanity, something that had witnessed the foundations of the earth. In that deepness images appeared and reappeared in a blink of an eye, yet lasting an eternity.

Many years ago, the hubris of humanity reached its peak. Thinking they could be equal to God, the world gathered together to create matter and life with their machines. However, the devices of man betrayed them and the resulting catastrophe tore a dimensional rift in our universe. They awakened something ancient, primordial, evil. Thus man's second time to eat from the Tree of Life opened the way for the elder gods to return. Demonkind replaced humans as the dominant species.

Nine terrible shapes burned into his mind. He wanted it to stop but he was shapeless and powerless.

The Great Nine divided the earth amongst themselves.

Symbols flashed: a golden triple crest sigil behind endless rows of black-clad soldiers and next to them, a blasphemous multi-crossed emblem backed up by terrible cultists.

A one-world government was created—The Sovereign—alongside The Temple of the Ninefold, who worship the dark gods and carry out their will. Anyone who does not submit…

Blake’s eye fluttered open. The vision clung to him then vanished like smoke. Short and scrawny for a sixteen year old, Blake wore a conspicuous headband over his scruffy dark brown hair. Besides looking like Rambo, he wore it to conceal his missing right eye. He stood in the middle of the cramped home-classroom, pointer gripped like a sword. Fifteen little kids stared up at him wide-eyed while old man Mr. Butler snored in the corner.

The voice faded from his consciousness and so did all memory. Instead Blake smirked and continued the story, voice dripping with mock-seriousness.

“…is subject to beheading by the inexhaustible forces of The Sovereign. And if the soldiers don't shoot you dead, the Temple has their own fanatical army of cursed super-soldiers, witches, and child-eating bogeymen.”

One little girl’s lip quivered. A boy in the back looked ready to cry. Blake leaned in, lowering his voice dramatically. “If there are no questions, I shall move on to how not to get eaten by the bogeymen demon.”

A sharp throat-clearing cut through the room.
“Ahem!”

Charlotte stood in the doorway about to pull out her blond hair in frustration. Her slight Southern accent sounded sweet, but her "smile" could have stopped a demon cold. She was solidly built for an eighteen year-old girl, growing up doing chores and physical labor, yet somehow she retained her feminine beauty.

“Anddd I think it’s time we wake up Mr. Butler,” she said brightly.

The children erupted in chaos.
“Nooo! We wanna hear about the bogeymen!”
“Are they gonna eat us?”
“Are the scary things coming here?”

Blake looked down at a small girl and patted her on the head reassuringly.

"Don't worry, the village is too remote and hidden to be found by the bad people. This village is also special, we are protected from demon attack by the spirit barrier surrounding the fence. You are perfectly safe."

Her face started to brighten up. However Blake's intrusive thoughts ruined the moment.

"At least, that’s the story your parents tell you. Maybe it isn't true and the scary monsters are coming to get you tonight..."

Charlotte clapped sharply. The echo cracked through the small cabin school room like a whip. Mr. Butler snorted awake.

“Alrighty class! Time for us to go!"

The children cried and begged them to stay, some because they wanted to play and others wide-eyed in terror with a new trauma. Charlotte flashed an angry look at Blake while keeping a cheerful composure.

"Next time I’ll be the one doing story time, okay? Charlotte said brightly. "And then we'll play Duck-Duck-Goose!”

Her successful redirection worked and the children cheered loudly. As they swarm to give her hugs Mr. Butler beamed to see his former student turning into a teacher.

"Thank you Miss Charlotte for your time, Say, when do you think you're going to finally do this full time? I'm not as young as I used to be and it would give my old soul some rest knowing my best student took over."

Charlotte blushed. She smiled but didn't have an answer. She turned back to Blake but—
he was nowhere to be found.

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Outside, the sky was the normal sickly green—except for one dark omen on the horizon. Ominous clouds flickered with lightning and a deep red that made Blake’s stomach twist. He stared at it, lost in thought, trying to recall something he had forgotten...

Charlotte caught up, hands on her hips. “There you are! I can’t believe what you were telling those children. It was supposed to be story time for fairy tales, not for nightmares beyond human comprehension!”

Blake shrugged. “Fairy tales aren't going to prepare those kids for the real world. Something that everyone around here seems to have forgotten just because we happen to live in a bubble of safety. "

He nodded toward the distant red storm. “We’re running out of time. The old timers say the red storm is an omen.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “See? That’s the type of crazy negative stuff you always talk about that keeps you from making friends.”

Blake muttered under his breath, “The only people who live here are sheep.”

“What was that?”

He ignored her and started walking. Charlotte jogged to catch up.

They moved through the main square of Heaven’s Retreat — a cluster of vendor stalls and makeshift buildings around a once grand ranch house. Villagers milled about, laughing, trading, and working hard to keep the retreat going. Whenever the the older hands whispered about the red horizon they were quickly hushed, it was an unsaid taboo to fearmonger after all.

Charlotte smacked her hand in a sudden epiphany. “That’s it! You’re acting weird, or weirder than normal, because you’re nervous about tomorrow’s trials. Aren’t ya?”

Blake rolled his eye. Charlotte's smug grin pressed closer.

“Mmm-hmm. I can tell these things, you know…”

“Is that so?” Blake said sarcastically. “Interesting because super-natural powers are key identifiers of witches.”

Charlotte punched his arm — hard. Blake winced, rubbing his shoulder.

“You’re going to do great at tomorrow’s trials,” she said warmly. “I know that for sure.”

Blake almost smiled back — his attention drawn to three older teens shoving another behind the old barn. His fists clenched.

“See you later tonight, okay?” he said abruptly, already moving.

“Blake! Wha—”

He was gone.

Inside the dim barn was a maze of supplies, some packed to the roof. In a corner away from sight Joe — athletic, cocky, and more importantly the son of the sheriff — had Kip pinned against the wall.

“Come on, man, we know ya got some candy from your old man’s last supply run,” Joe sneered.

Kip, who wasn't athletic or cocky, sank down in fear but still had enough courage to try and reason with the towering bully.

"My dad risks his life to get supplies for the village, it's only right that he gets to keep non-essentials."

Joe's fist slammed into Kip's stomach. The smaller boy buckled to the ground.

"Look around ya," Joe snarled. Does it look like we're gonna run out of supplies? It's people like your old man who are gonna ruin everything by leading the devil's back here!"

Behind them a voice range out.
"Hey dumbasses!"

Joe and his two lackey's turn around surprised. Blake walks in from the sunlight and strides forward, eyes flickering with determination.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Joe realizes its just Blake and laughs, "if I did it wouldn't be a shrimp like you!"

Joe’s two lackeys keep Blake away, even they overshadow him in stature.

"Stupid sheep like you think you’re so tough around here when really you just want your dad's job ’cause you’re too scared to go over the fence like a real man!”

Joe stormed over, towering above him. “You’ve always had a death wish. How ’bout I put’cha out of your misery?”

It finally dawns on Blake that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea picking a fight with the 3 meanest kids in the village. Too late — Blake swung first — a near perfect right hook. Joe caught it with one hand, lifted Blake like a doll, and slammed an uppercut into his gut. Blake flew backward, dog tags spilled out from under his shirt as he crashed into a wooden pallet knocking him out-cold.

He was in the deep again, the great and infinite between unconsciousness and enlightenment. He was images again but they were like faded photographs drifting away —
A man with big rough hands patting his head.
A van in the rain.
Screams. Gunshots.
Tiny hands gripping bloodied dog tags.

The silver voice whispered in the dark: Get up.

Blake’s eye fluttered open, once again coming back to the physical world. He staggered to his feet, swaying but defiant, gripping the tags. Joe is looking through Kip's pockets while he weakly protests.

“Where you going… I can do this all day.”

Joe turned, furious. He reached for Blake — then froze.

Charlotte stepped from behind the barn, eyes blazing. She grabbed Blake by the shirt and started dragging him out.

“I’ll deal with this,” she snapped. “You can’t get involved. He’s just going to get you in trouble again.”

Blake struggled. “What? No! Let me go!”

Joe laughed. “Oh ain’t this rich — the village freak on a short leash with his big sister!”

Blake's face burned red with anger and embarrassment. Even his older sister was bigger and stronger than him.

"We can't leave Kip, would dad be proud if we saw us abandon a friend?"

Charlotte’s face darkened. From behind her Joe continued flinging insults.

"Damn son, look at that babe go. Best piece of ass in the village."

She doesn't stop.

Joe turns to his lackey, "man it's too bad she likes her brother, way too weird for me."

On a dime Charlotte lets go of Blake and marched straight up to Joe. He bends over like he's talking to a child.

"Awwww, dwid I hurt ywa feelings?"

In a flash Charlotte gave a surprisingly (or surprising to those who underestimate farm girl strength) solid punch square in Joe's nose with a solid crack. Blood sprayed. Joe recoiled back clutching his face, tears welling up. Joe's gang look in shock at their injured leader.

Charlotte strolls away indignantly followed by Blake and Kip who look at each other like holy crap. Blood continues to squirt from Joe's very broken nose.

“You bitch!” he roared. “Come back here! I’m going to bash your skull in!”