The Demon Conspiracy
R.L. Gemmill
Cottingham-McMasters Publishing House
Copyright © 2015 R. L. Gemmill
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-0692448830
ISBN-10: 0692448837
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalized or coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission by the author.
Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com
“For you, Mom…FINALLY! I hope they have bookstores where you are.”
WARNING!
The American Security Administration has determined that THE DEMON CONSPIRACY book series can cause nightmares and unexplainable feelings of being watched. The conspiratorial thinking and utter terror within these pages may be hazardous to your psychological health. READ WITH CAUTION.
Marcus Conn
Deputy Director
American Security Administration
Author’s Note
This novel is meant to be a fun and exciting read. Much of the general research in THE DEMON CONSPIRACY SERIES I did myself, but a lot of the scientific and conspiracy information was originally collected by Stephanie Matzgannis, a former student of mine and good friend, who has an uncanny knack at finding strange facts and uncovering the science related weird. Thank you, Stephanie!
I would also like to thank award-winning author, Mark Spencer, for his editing expertise and constructive comments. Fiction readers should check out his books, they are excellent! Any author who needs professional editing should visit Mark’s website at: https://authormarkspencer.com/Writing_Services.html.
Also, a huge thanks to Laima Klavina for her original design and art work on the book cover, as well as the website design and Demon-of-the-Month demons. Every time I look at the cover I’m mesmerized because there is so much going on. Laima’s art is also worth checking out at: www.amunalaima.com
Contents
Warning
Author’s Note
1. The Accident
2. The Bully—Seven Years Later
3. The Haunting of Pandora’s Cave
4. The Earthquake
5. Trapped
6. The Salesman
7. Flying Demons
8. Capture
9. Battle to the Death
10. Escape
11. Rescue
12. Much Work to Do
13. Memory Loss
14. Magic
15. Satan’s Sidekicks
16. The Fight
17. Fang II
18. Saturday Morning Manners
19. The Tournament
20. Spies
21. Pain
22. Attack of the Bully
23. Majik Juice
24. Jon Disappears
25. Chris Goes Insane
26. Return of the Salesman
27. A Very Nasty Plan
28. Ouija Boards and S’mores
29. Monsters in the Night
30. Breaking and Entering
31. A Place to Hide
32. Demons Everywhere
33. We Wants the Kelly Bishop
34. Someone Else’s Name
35. Ladder Trouble
36. Klawfinger
37. Demon Proofing
38. Padded Cell
39. Do You Believe in Monsters?
40. Demon Fight
41. Sleeplessness
Excerpt from Book 2: The Doomsday Shroud
About the Author
1
THE ACCIDENT
KELLY
The car windows were smashed. Pieces of glass were everywhere.
My tummy hurt real bad, but I was stuck. I couldn’t get out. I wanted Mommy.
I tried to unsnap the seatbelt, but it wouldn’t open. I pushed the button hard as I could. The seatbelt made my tummy hurt and I wanted to get out. I pulled hard on the belt. I was stuck. I needed somebody to help me. Mommy?
Where was Mommy? I couldn’t see her, but in my mind I could tell she was hurt.
“Mommy?” It sounded like there was cotton in my mouth. I couldn’t talk right.
Something smelled like gas in Daddy’s lawnmower. I looked up, which was sideways because we were all sideways. Daddy was hanging sideways too. His face had blood all over it. I closed my eyes. I hated blood. I started to cry. I didn’t want Daddy to die. But he had blood on his face. Lots of blood! I couldn’t hear him.
I pushed on the seatbelt button again. It wouldn’t let go. I cried harder.
“Poor…Daddy. I love you, Daddy.” I kicked and wiggled. It hurt my tummy even worse, so I stopped.
Travis was in his car seat in front of me. He was blurry because my eyes were full of tears. Then I heard him sucking on his thumb. He was still asleep. And alive.
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. I sniffled and hiccupped. “Help me!”
JON
Ten-year-old Jon Bishop woke up in a blur. His forehead ached and burned. He felt like he’d been baptized with a hammer. Where was he? Why did his stomach feel like somebody had tried to peel the skin off with a weed eater?
Jon blinked. He rolled his head and sort of looked up. He saw Kelly hanging above him, arms and legs dangling.
“Jon…h-h-help…me!”
“Kelly? What happened? Were we in a wreck?”
“No, we…w-w-were in a accident. Help m-me…Jon.” She began to sob. “M-m-my seatbelt is stuck! And my tummy…hu-hu-hurts real bad. I can’t get…out and Mommy doesn’t hear me anymore!”
Jon’s mind cleared somewhat. Things became familiar. They were in the family minivan, but the van lay on its side with the windshield smashed out. The driver’s side door was crushed inward and pressed against his father. Mr. Bishop was utterly motionless, still held in place by the seatbelt. His right arm hung limp, like the deflated front airbag beside him. Blood drained from a gash in the side of his head.
Jon had never seen so much blood. A coppery taste rose in the back of his throat. He couldn’t hold back the sudden spew of vomit that sprayed over the back of the van.
Jon couldn’t see his mom in the other seat. What had happened? Where were they? He worked hard to remember.
They’d been driving on winding back roads in the middle of nowhere when all at once everything had vanished. Jon sat up on full alert. The highway, the trees, even the stars disappeared. One minute it was all there, a second later—gone! Jon looked right, then left, then up. Nothing. Was it fog? A moment later he caught the smell of rotting plant matter.
“That stinks!” he said, pinching his nostrils. “What is it, dad?”
“A fire in the Dismal Swamp,” said his father in the driver’s seat, pointing to the right. “About sixty miles that way. Been burning for weeks.” He slowed the car to a safer speed, but speed had nothing to do with visibility.
“How can you see where you’re going?”
“I can’t, but there’s no shoulder to pull off to. If we stop, or slow down too much, and somebody comes up behind us…well, it’s better if we keep moving.”
Jon got the message. He kept a nervous eye out the rear window. The only thing he could see was the reddish glow of their taillights reflected in the noxious gray smoke. A split second later the air cleared. Jon blinked, startled. He watched the wall of smoke shrink away behind them.
“There,” said Mr. Bishop. “Much better.”
“Thank, God,” said Mrs. Bishop, riding shotgun. “I don’t know how you drove through that.”
“Me either,” admitted her husband.
br /> Mrs. Bishop let out a long sigh of relief, like she’d been holding her breath the whole time. The road was clear now, but Jon knew she was too much of a worrier to relax.
On the other hand, his dad didn’t seem rattled at all. If he’d been even a little afraid he didn’t show it. How’d he do that? How’d he stay so calm? Jon made a mental note to himself: look brave no matter what. Dad could pull it off, why couldn’t he? After all, everyone said they were practically clones. They had the same sandy blond hair, intense blue eyes and easy-going manner. Mr. Bishop often joked that someday one of them would have to grow a mustache so people could tell them apart. It made sense. If dad could do something, Jon could too—with a little practice.
“Are we there yet?” Kelly Bishop popped up in the captain’s seat behind their father, still half asleep. Kelly was a miniature version of Mrs. Bishop with the same warm, brown eyes and matching curly hair. She was six now and would finish the first grade in another month, but she could already read on a fifth-grade level. That kid read just about anything. Jon didn’t see the point. He didn’t care about books unless they had something to do with karate, swords, or computers.
“Kelly, honey,” said Mrs. Bishop. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? It’ll be hours before we get home.”
Jon laughed softly. Suggesting something like that to Kelly was a bad idea, if that’s what you really wanted her to do. Kelly hated to go to sleep at night almost as much as she despised getting up in the mornings. Right away she perked up a little and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
“All you’re going to miss is a whole lot of nothing,” said her dad, winking at her in the rear view mirror. Jon got a kick out of that. Kelly tried to wink back, but she couldn’t shut just one eye, so she blinked them both. As usual it made them laugh. Minutes later Kelly closed her eyes and nodded off again.
“Travis has the right idea,” said Mr. Bishop. “He’s been asleep since we left.”
Three-year-old Travis Bishop sat in his car seat with his curly blond head tilted to one side. Travis had dad’s blue eyes and mom’s smile, but other than that he hardly looked like part of the family.
“That kid could sleep through an earthquake,” said Jon, laughing. He slouched in the seat and stretched his long legs into the space beside Travis. There was a cardboard box on the seat beside him that contained two trophies. Jon took up the trophies and studied them in the dim light. The first trophy had a small karate figure on top that was forever frozen in the middle of a big kick. The second showed a samurai sword surrounded by some leafy patterns. Jon put them back in the box while he dwelled on the single word engraved at the bottom of each trophy. Champion. Oh, yeah.
He’d competed in two events, kumite, or fighting, and weapons—both in his age group. But as he watched other kids in the tournament he realized he could have beaten most of them, even kids that were years older than him. The strange thing was he didn’t just think he could’ve beaten them, he knew it. Maybe next time Sensei would let him move up. That’d be sweet, he loved tough competition.
Jon got the feeling he was being watched and looked up. His mom was studying him with her mouth kind of scrunched over to one side, like she was biting the inside of her jaw. She usually had that look when she was thinking.
“What?” he said.
“I wish your grandparents were alive,” said Mrs. Bishop with a sad smile. “They’d be so proud of you!”
Jon grinned and hung his head modestly. This was the most awesome day ever! He was absolutely sure nothing could ruin it for him. Nothing.
All at once everything outside vanished again. Mr. Bishop quickly switched to the bright headlights, but it was like bouncing a spotlight off a mirror right back into their eyes.
“That didn’t work,” he said, dimming the lights. He returned to a lower speed. “I’m sure there’s an intersection around here some place. Wish I could see.”
He’d barely spoken the words when a bright, yellow glow appeared in front of them. Mr. Bishop hit the brakes. They skidded to a complete stop just as the light changed to red. Travis never stirred, but Kelly woke up immediately.
“Good call, dad.” Jon gripped his seat with white knuckles. That was close. Scanning the area he could just make out dim lights and ghostly outlines of a few old buildings around the intersection. It looked like a small town. There were maybe a half dozen houses, a gas station, and some kind of store. People lived there, but the smoke made the whole place seem deserted.
“Are we there yet?” asked Kelly groggily.
“We’re at Boyd’s Crossroads,” said their dad, looking right and left.
“I don’t remember this,” said Mrs. Bishop. “Do you really know where we are?”
“Never been lost in my life. The smoke makes it look different, that’s all.” Mr. Bishop pointed ahead. “See? There’s the sign for I-95. It’s four miles to the interstate.”
“Does that mean there won’t be anymore smoke?” asked Jon.
“It’ll be four lanes and a safer drive either way.”
“What time is it?” said Kelly.
“Why?” asked their dad jokingly. “Do you have an important meeting tonight?”
“Oh, Daddy, I was just wondering.” She rolled her eyes and giggled.
Mr. Bishop checked his watch. “Ten after ten.”
It wasn’t unusual for Mr. Bishop to tell them what time it was, since he wore a watch and they didn’t. Even Travis asked about it, now and then, as he rapidly learned to talk. But this was the one time of day that Jon would never forget as long as he lived.
The light turned green. Mr. Bishop eased the minivan forward. Smoke covered them like a shroud as they passed through the intersection. Jon wondered how his dad could even tell where the road was. Suddenly, a bright flash tore aside the darkness. Jon saw it coming. Headlights! A truck!
At that moment he recalled the time. Ten after ten. It would be the last thing his father ever said. Then everything went black.