Relics of the Apocalypse

The trio, well, the four-io of them including Robert's grandma prepared for more trouble. The fact that they have a pried open roof against flying enemies, was concerning. So, Pierre readily agreed to take the backseat while his student took the wheel.

With the windows and a large hole in the roof, he got an increased vision, and that provided some relief.

Robert proved to be the better driver. That is, not being the owner of the car, he was able to be rougher with her. He had her take sharp turns, which she never experienced before, and do wild drifts, which she had never even dreamed of. All throughout, Pierre reminded himself, that he needn't care since the car was probably too damaged to salvage.

Robert's rougher but faster driving got them out of the residential area soon enough. What the interface said, earlier was proven to be accurate. The lesser the population, the fewer the demons. The rural part of Greystone County was almost another place.

The scenery outside the window was mostly the soothing yellow of the prairie and the gentle golden of the late afternoon sun. Houses and farms sparsely dotted the landscape. Residents worriedly stood by their doors, looking in the direction where the city was, and then at the passing, creaking, ruined vehicle.

He saw a few farmers brandishing their hunting rifles, donning their overalls and battle faces. These were tough folk, but they wouldn't stand a chance against the demons.

"They haven't reached this place yet," for the first time, Robert's grandma spoke. The tremble in her voice was yet to fade, but she was slowly regaining the colors on her face, and she mustered a smile to Pierre who looked her way.

Pierre returned the smile. It was the worst of times to be an old woman. "You did well, Mrs…"

"Mrs. Sheppard, I am Robert's grandma, and you are?" she said, maintaining the toothy smile, as she leaned in for a handshake.

"I am Pierre Acre… I teach at Everett University." Pierre reached out to take the shaking hand of the old woman.

"Oh… my… that's the same university my grandson goes to," the surprise seemed to make her feel even much better, and her smile grew wider and warmer, "I hope he never gave you trouble."

Robert cleared his throat and nervously glanced at Pierre through the front mirror. A grin appeared on Pierre's face.

"No… I don't think he has." It was Clementine who responded, who peered back from her seat, her voice nasal, nose red, and eyes puffed. Yet she had a smile that was just as bright as always, "I am Clementine Martin, I teach Thornish at Everett."

The two women shook hands, and in between the peaceful scenery outside, and the warm fellowship inside the car, all the horrors of the day seemed like a distant memory. Although the creaking piece of curled-up metal sheet of what was once a part of the car roof, unceasingly tried to remind them.

Robert cleared his throat again and finally joined the conversation. "So… where do we go now?"

"I live about five kilometers away. My father's homestead would be large enough for all of us. You can stay there for a while," she produced a hair tie from her bag, to put her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail.

Robert nodded and returned his attention to the road ahead. After a minute, he spoke again, stuttering, something new for the loudmouth. "Uhm… thank… you, Professor Acre… Miss Martin."

"Don't thank me, Robert," said Clementine, a playful hint in her croaky voice, "Dr. Acre is the only one we should be thanking. I don't know where he got that magical coin, but I've always known him to be quite magical, good, and brave."

Pierre loved to hear the compliment, but he would have appreciated it more in any other circumstance. For the hundredth time, he checked his phone. The screen was cracked, but miraculously no pixels were yet broken.

There was still no network. The faces on the wallpaper that stared back at him, made the worry even worse. He was able to save other people but was helpless when it came to his family.

Robert's fast driving led them further and further away from danger, or that's what they thought.

Everyone in the car flinched at the loud gunshots. Ahead was a small hamlet at the crossroad. Pierre forgot that even in rural areas, there were close neighborhoods that could have enough population to cause the opening of the demon portals.

As they approached the group of houses, Pierre summoned the coin in his hand. The glimmer of it caught everyone's eyes inside the car, but nobody dared ask. And he was thankful for it because he would not know where to start.

"Should we ride around it?" Robert asked.

Pierre briefly entertained the idea. One look at the prairie, and the knee-high grass and the jutting stones and boulders, and he threw it in the stupid-ideas bin. The car was already damaged, and it would not stand any more punishments.

Not to mention, driving away from the road would slow them down, which would make them easier to chase.

"No, I don't think we can handle it. I have a feeling we can weather through, using the road."

A feeling. Pierre huffed. He had always been logical. You don't get a doctorate and expect the superstitious side of yours to survive.

But that day, things he had learned during his many years of education had been debunked and his view of the world crumbled. If demons were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Fairies? Unicorns?

It would be likely there was a heaven and hell. If that was the case, then it was a good idea to attend church, even for purely cultural reasons. Every Sunday when his parents were in town and once or twice a month if they weren't.

But if God still counted his attendance valid, he wasn't so sure.