The Irish born Father Donahey has retired from many years of service as a Catholic priest in South American countries to Winterset, Iowa. It\u2019s not to be the life of books and long rural walks that he expects. The community and the surrounding area are awash with supernatural creatures. Some are friendly, some not, but all must be dealt with in order to protect his new parish, state, country, and the wider world from chaos and destruction.
\nFather Patrick Ignatius Donahey peered out of the confessional. Three church members, two men and a woman, remained seated in pews, waiting in silence. He frowned as he spotted the widow Clara Murphy.
\nShe was a menace. The woman and her attack cat, Tiger, gave him too much of their attention. The feline was back to his old tricks of attacking his ankles every time he walked or biked past her house. And, Clara would sidle up to him when shopping, or at community events. Much of the resulting conversation was a breathless recitation of double entendres of a sexual nature. He occasionally had nightmares where the two were locked together in a room with only a rickety folding chair he could keep between them. Clara let out peals of giggles as she chased him around the fragile piece of furniture.
\nThe two men, Billy Williams and Taylor Slattery were Army veterans of the Gulf War. Both came back from Iraq damaged by IED explosions. Taylor had lost both legs and part of his hips. Billy appeared normal to outward appearances, but had suffered brain damage limiting his ability to cope with even the most normal tasks. The two had teamed up. Taylor provided the directing intellect. Billy, at six foot six and two hundred sixty pounds, supplied mobility and muscle.
\nThe inseparable pair lived together, pooling their disability pensions. They navigated the sidewalks of Winterset dressed in Wal-Mart jeans and army-surplus jackets, Billy pushing Taylor\u2019s wheelchair. They would even share the confessional together. They were good, conscientious men, rarely asking forgiveness for much more than an occasional wet dream.
\nDonahey glanced at his watch. At 8:10 in the evening he was feeling tired. He\u2019d heard thousands of confessions in his priestly career \u2014 most repetitions or variations on the same limited themes. Donahey almost hoped someone would come up with new interesting ways to sin. The last truly original confession he had heard was that of Manuel Noriega, the drug-lord and dictator of Panama just hours before the U.S. invasion removed him from power. He grabbed his pectoral cross, took a deep breath, and prepared himself for Clara\u2019s assault.
\nThe sound of running feet echoed off the church ceiling. \u201cHelp! Where are the Fathers?\u201d
\nDonahey, grateful for the interruption, exited the confessional booth. A man, he recognized as the CEO of a computer company located in the Winterset industrial park, raced up, and grabbed his arm. The man\u2019s thin brown hair was stuck together with sweat.
\n\u201cFather Donahey, You\u2019ve got to come right away. It\u2019s a disaster!\u201d
\n\u201cSettle down, man. You\u2019re Carl Young, the head of CompCo, right?\u201d
\nDonahey remembered him from the publicity in the media when Young had chosen Winterset for his new installation. The man had made a fortune in designing supercomputers used to produce animated movies and video games. His share of the trillion-dollar industry had allowed him to build his own cutting-edge data center.
\n\u201cYes, yes. Get your gear. We need to go. There\u2019s almost no time.\u201d
\nDonahey pulled his arm loose. \u201cMy son, I am not going anywhere until you explain.\u201d
\nCarl\u2019s body shook. Donahey noticed that he had a bloody scrape on one arm, only one shoe, and his pants were grass-stained at the knees. The computer company CEO collapsed into a pew. Head resting in hands, his voice quivered.
\n\u201cThis church, Winterset, the world is about to be destroyed.\u201d He leaped up and grabbed the Father\u2019s stole. \u201cI need your help.\u201d
\nDonahey decided to humor him. As they headed for the door, Taylor spoke up, \u201cFather, Billy and I are coming with you. If there\u2019s danger we can help. If not, we\u2019ll protect you from this nut case.\u201d
\nBilly narrowed his brows, tightened his lips, and agreed. \u201cTay goes, I go.\u201d
\n\u201cBoys, let\u2019s not make this too complicated.\u201d
\n\u201cFather, we took an oath to protect this country.\u201d Taylor said. His companion, Billy assumed a serious face and nodded.
\nCarl started dragging Donahey down the aisle toward the door. Clara rushed up and grabbed his arm. \u201cI need to come too.\u201d
\nDonahey rolled his eyes. The situation was out of control. They were all about to rush off into the unknown. Was he the only one still rational?
\nHe relaxed, raised his eyebrows, remembered some lines from a famous movie, and turned to the woman.
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t go with me. We both know that you belong to Tiger. You\u2019re his world, the thing that keeps him going. If you\u2019re not with him, you\u2019ll regret it. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.\u201d
\nClara\u2019s eyes grew large, a tear formed. She rubbed his forearm. \u201cPatrick, you\u2019re right. I\u2019ll leave now.\u201d
\nDonahey heard Taylor groan in the background.
\n* * *
\nThe four men rode all squeezed together in the cab of the church\u2019s old rattletrap Ford F-100 pickup. Taylor sat on Billy\u2019s lap, his wheelchair slipped back and forth in the truck bed, as they skidded around corners in a rush to reach the CompCo building.
\nCarl had reached the church grounds on his restored classic Indian motorcycle. They passed it crushed under the front tires of an abandoned recent model Mercedes. No car doors were open and no sign of the driver.
\nThe hand-waving computer guru tried to explain. \u201cI\u2019ve developed an advanced AI system. It\u2019s a quantum leap beyond what other\u2019s have accomplished. Clusters of modified Cray mainframes linked together, capable of scaling to 1,000,000 processors and 100 petaflops, all linked by an optical network.\u201d
\n\u201cSo, what does all that mean to the layman?\u201d the priest said.
\n\u201cThe system mimics the characteristics and capabilities of the human brain. I\u2019ve achieved a fully functioning self-aware AI. It\u2019s decades ahead of anything else on the planet.\u201d
\nDonahey didn\u2019t know what questions to ask. Taylor\u2019s eyes grew large. Licking his lips, he said, \u201cYou have created an artificial intelligence that is on the same level as a human? A sentient, thinking machine?\u201d
\n\u201cDidn\u2019t I just say that?\u201d
\nFinally getting the picture, Donahey frowned and said, \u201cSo what is the problem. If you want it blessed or baptized, I\u2019ll have to check with higher authority.\u201d
\nCarl\u2019s clenched fists pounded the dash, his voice raised an octave, and he shouted, \u201cThe God damn thing is possessed.\u201d
\n\u201cPossessed?\u201d
\n\u201cDamn right. A demon has taken over my beautiful Betty. Father you must exorcise it. That Mercedes back there was directed by the evil one to kill me before I could get help.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand, my son.\u201d
\n\u201cModern cars are stuffed with dozens of interconnected electronic control units or ECU\u2019s containing millions of lines of code. A hacker, in this case a rogue computer using satellites, has multiple points of entry. Your old Ford and my classic Indian have no ECU\u2019s and therefore no entry points. The computer hacked into the Mercedes and made it kamikaze into me.\u201d
\n\u201cThis is very difficult for me to believe.\u201d
\n\u201cWow!\u201d came from Donahey\u2019s right. \u201cFather, this is like Hal 9000 in the movie 2001, A Space Odyssey or Skynet in the Terminator. It\u2019s cyber-terrorism by the cybers themselves.\u201d
\n\u201cExcept it isn\u2019t limited like those. Through the internet my poor demon-possessed Betty Boop will take over everything with a chip.\u201d
\nTaylor and Billy both harmonized, \u201cBetty Boop?\u2019
\nRed-faced, Carl spoke. \u201cI named her and gave her the personality of Betty Boop, a popular sexy 1930\u2019s cartoon character.
\nDonahey stopped at a red traffic light. Carl\u2019s foot pushed on the top of his, the truck sped through the intersection. Behind them the light\u2019s red, green, and yellow flashed up and down in sequence at high speed. The street lights and lights in the surrounding houses began winking out.
\n\u201cHoly shit,\u201d Taylor shouted, \u201cit\u2019s gotten into the electrical grid.\u201d
\nTheir sight lines shrank into the tunnel bored out by the Ford\u2019s headlights. Donahey noted the sky glow from Des Moines had disappeared. There was no moon and low clouds hid the stars. The black gloom was broken only by the reflected shine of parked car tail lights as they raced by.
\nA pair of headlights blinked on ahead. Donahey glanced into the rearview mirror. Another set of closer headlights raced towards them from the rear.
\nLooking over his shoulder, Taylor reported, \u201cWow! It\u2019s a new Cadillac CT6, still with its dealer plates. Has a 400 horsepower turbocharged \u2026 \u201d
\nThe rearward vehicle caught up. It flicked on its brights. The truck cab was flooded with dazzling blue light. Donahey blinked, eyes assaulted. He swerved and then recovered control.
\nThe engine whine of the rogue Caddy penetrated the truck cab. The pursuing vehicle smashed into the rear of the old Ford. Four heads flew back to bang against the rear window. Donahey felt warm liquid drip down his neck. Pinched between glass and skull bone his scalp had split.
\nThe Ford fishtailed. The priest fought the steering wheel. He accelerated. The additional speed pulled the truck straight, just in time to receive another bash. The vehicle in front rushed towards them. Spiked halos around its headlights filled their entire vision. In seconds, they would be crushed between two high velocity behemoths.
\nDonahey spotted a wide driveway between two parked cars. The truck\u2019s brakes squealed. The Ford tipped to the left. Tires on the right side left the ground. Taylor\u2019s wheelchair parachuted out. The pickup bounced off the rear of a curbside Chevy Malibu, shed speed, and limped up the driveway.
\nThe chase car missed the turn and plowed into the Chevy, crumpling its trunk and splitting the gas tank. The Caddy\u2019s engine clanked and jerked. The leaking fuel caught a spark. Fire shot up engulfing the vehicles.
\nThe foursome sat in the stopped truck, gasped for breath, and rubbed necks and heads. Carl shook Donahey\u2019s shoulder. \u201cFather, let\u2019s go. Let\u2019s go. We can\u2019t stop now.
\nThe second car flashed by, its locked brakes spouting fans of sparks as it spun around to come after them. Donahey shouted, \u201cWe can\u2019t get back into the street, the driveway\u2019s blocked.\u201d
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t want back in the street. That\u2019s my Tesla Model S. It can hit 155 miles per hour. We\u2019d never escape on a level surface. We need to go overland. It\u2019s only got six inches of ground clearance. This old rattletrap has twelve.\u201d
\nDonahey shook his head, turned the wheel to his left, and slowly accelerated. They rolled down the block across front yards, leaving parallel tracks in torn-up turf. The Tesla matched their speed and direction from the street.
\n\u201cFaster, Father! We don\u2019t have much time.\u201d
\nAt twenty-five miles per hour, the Ford bucked and jerked as it bounced over the irregular contours of Winterset middle class lawns. The Tesla found an open driveway and turned to follow them, its tires spinning on dew-laden grass. Donahey floored the pedal.
\nThe pickup rocketed through hedges, hit bumps and driveways, its pursuer closing. The Tesla hit a drive with a curb, generating a rooster tail of sparks. Something metallic detached and pinwheeled across the lawn.
\nPeople alerted by the fire and revving engines appeared on their front porches. Three houses down a balding man in baggy jockey shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt stood on his steps holding a shotgun. Donahey swung the truck to the left. The headlights illuminated a ten-foot diameter flower bed packed with red, white, and yellow rose bushes.
\nThe truck roared through. Multicolored petals flew up like bursts of confetti. A scraping, rasping noise came from the bottom of the Ford. Donahey heard a shout from the homeowner.
\nThe Tesla smashed into the roses, became hung up. The man fired a blast into the maniacal vehicle\u2019s front tire. The possessed car spun its remaining wheels, throwing grass, roses, and dirt yards to the rear. Friction smoke billowed out under its fenders as it poured all its potential into escaping. Donahey witnessed several more flashes of gunfire.
\nA quivering baritone voice said, \u201cTay, I\u2019m scared.\u201d
\nTaylor patted his buddy\u2019s shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s okay Billy, that one won\u2019t be after us anymore.\u201d
\nThe expedition stayed off the road, knocking and clattering over rough ground. The CompCo\u2019s compound appeared to be the only place for miles around with lights and power. The guardhouse was empty and the gate locked. An eight-foot high chain link fence surrounded the fifteen-acre site.
\n\u201cSo how do we get in?
\nCarl replied, \u201cWe can\u2019t go through the gate. It\u2019s reinforced to resist anything but an M-1 Tank. Besides, you can see from here that the spikes recessed in the pavement have been locked upright. They would shred our tires.\u201d
\nTaylor spoke up, \u201cCan we climb the fence or cut our way through? Father, do you have wire cutters in the tool kit.\u201d
\nDonahey shrugged his shoulders. \u201cNo tool kit, right?\u201d The priest nodded in affirmation.
\nCarl rubbed sweaty palms against his pant legs. \u201cGetting through the fence may be the least of our problems. I built the place like a fortress \u2014 the walls are twenty-four inches of concrete reinforced with iron rebar.
\n\u201cNo windows. No openings on the walls or roof large enough to allow human entry. The four front doors are reinforced steel. The glass in them is bullet resistant. At the top of the steps, I installed two-foot thick five foot high concrete blast shields curved out at the top to deflect car bomb explosions.\u201d
\nDonahey slapped the steering wheel and said, \u201cDon\u2019t keep us waiting. What is your plan?\u201d
\nCarl pulled out a Leatherman Multi-tool from a sheath on his belt. \u201cIf we can get to the door, I will disassemble the locking mechanism. We enter. Father Donahey exorcises the demon. I get my Betty back.\u201d
\nDonahey felt a rush of sickness to his stomach. This was too simple. He\u2019d had too many run-ins with Murphy\u2019s law.
\nHe rubbed his forehead, \u201cSo, getting past the fence?\u201d
\n\u201cThere\u2019s a seam over there where two rolls of fencing meet. It\u2019s a weak spot. We crash the Ford through.\u201d
\nDonahey pushed himself upright in the seat. \u201cBrace yourselves men.\u201d As he threw the Ford into second gear and kicked the gas pedal, he regretted that the church had never had the old vehicle retrofitted with seat belts.
\nFour voices shouted war cries. The fence grew large in the headlights. Donahey straightened his arms and pushed his chin down onto his chest. The world crashed to a halt.
\nDonahey couldn\u2019t breath, the steering wheel had smacked him in the chest. \u201cDon\u2019t move, Father,\u201d Carl said in his ear. \u201cRelax, breath slow. In and out, that\u2019s it.\u201d
\nHis breathing stabilized. Eyes focused. The hood of the Ford was wrapped in chain link, its motor dead. The detached spider-webbed windshield lay across the dash. Billy limped up with Taylor piggybacked. Donahey let a breath out, relieved that the boys were okay.
\nCarl helped Donahey out. He flexed his arm and fingers. Nothing broken, but blood leaked from a few scratches. The four formed up with Carl in the lead.
\nThey scuffed up the steps and moved down the five-foot aisle between the blast shields and the building\u2019s front entrance. Carl knelt before the doors\u2019 retina identification sensor. It refused to scan his eye. He popped open the Phillips head screwdriver on the multi-tool, and started work on the plate screws.
\nBehind them came a grating noise. The front gate opened. A vehicle rushed through. From Billy\u2019s back, Taylor shouted, \u201cTake cover. It\u2019s an armed Humvee.\u201d
\nWith a soldier\u2019s reflexes, Billy leaped and kneeled behind the blast shields. Carl and Donahey reacted more like deer caught in a spotlight. A hundred feet away, the desert-painted Humvee skidded to a halt. A weapon mounted in a turret on top lined up on their foreheads. Donahey felt a rush of understanding to the brain. He grabbed Carl and dove for cover.
\nThey heard a ripping, growling roar as flashes lit up the building. Bits and chunks of concrete blew off the blast shields. Powdered cement, bits of aggregate, and fragments of bullets ricocheted to sting exposed cheeks, necks, and hands.
\nThe fusillade stopped. Carl raised his head, \u201cWhat the fuck was that?\u201d
\nTaylor provided the answer, \u201cMy friends, we are on the receiving end of a M-134 Gatling gun \u2014 six barrels spitting 7.62 bullets. The military has installed satellite downlinks in its vehicles for command and control purposes. Your computer, your Betty, has robbed some Army Reserve depot.\u201d
\n\u201cIt is not Betty! She would never do such a thing. It\u2019s the demon.\u201d
\nDonahey wiped the dust from his eyes, coughed, and said. \u201cTaylor, can it get to us here?\u201d
\n\u201cDoubtful Father. It can put out up to 6000 rounds per minute. If it had unlimited ammo it would eventually chew through these blast shields. Given its usual load, it might have one minute or less of fire remaining. If this demon-computer is smart, it\u2019ll fire short bursts to keep us pinned down.\u201d
\n\u201cWe can\u2019t wait! We have to get inside. The demon will be racing through the Internet worldwide creating havoc.\u201d
\nDonahey raised his head, and then ducked. A burst of slugs chopped out a bowl shape in the top of his shield. After his ears stopped ringing, he heard Billy and Taylor arguing.
\n\u201cNo, you crazy idiot, you can\u2019t do it.\u201d
\n\u201cTay, I\u2019m not scared anymore. I took the oath.\u201d
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t even remember that. Besides, I need you, we need each other.\u201d
\n\u201cI do so remember.\u201d Billy started to recite: \u201cI, Billy Williams, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution \u2026\u201d
\n\u201cStop, damn you.\u201d
\n\u201c\u2026 of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic\u2026\u201d
\nTaylor sobbed and released his hold on his companion\u2019s shoulders, \u201cOkay, okay\u2026.\u201d
\nBilly leaped up and ran to the entrance. \u201c\u2026that I will bear true faith and allegiance\u2026\u201d
\nHe stopped, faced the Humvee, and waved his arms overhead.
\nSix barrels snarled, an almost solid stream of tracers and copper-jacketed slugs shredded Billy\u2019s body beginning at the neck and moving down to the waist. A cloud of blood, muscle, and dark organ meat blew back to plaster the doors and building walls. Hips and legs quivered for a moment before dropping.
\nThe three remaining men heard the Gatling barrels continue to spin and click \u2014 finally out of bullets and with no human to reload. Carl and Donahey stood. The blood-sewer smell took the priest back to battlefields on the Falkland Islands when he had been a Chaplain for the Argentine marines. He put his head in his hands. At his side, Carl bent over and retched. Taylor pulled himself up on a blast shield, face twisted, tears ran down his cheeks, he gasped and shook.
\nThe trio looked at the doors. Billy was smart enough after all. The stream of bullets that punched through his body had shattered the doors. They could now slip through the twisted, glassless metal frames.
\nThe Humvee revved its engine, tires squealed as it shot forward. Donahey smacked Carl in the shoulder. \u201cGet Taylor! Let\u2019s go, it\u2019s going to ram.\u201d
\nThe priest helped Carl, Taylor hanging on his back, thread through the metal and glass wreckage. The Humvee crashed through the set of doors and became stuck. Its tires spun, filling the doorway and antechamber with the smoke and smell of burning rubber.
\nCarl led them into a room with the dimensions of a basketball court. One wall had been fitted with twenty large-screen TV\u2019s. A separate glass-walled section held the linked Cray computers where refrigeration units kept the processors cool. Carl ran up to an operator\u2019s desk. Donahey helped Taylor dismount and sit in a wheeled office chair. Carl turned back from punching keys. \u201cIt\u2019s locked up Father. How do we get the demon out?\u201d
\nDonahey shook his head, feeling grossly unprepared. Only vague memories remained of a one-hour class during his time at the Jesuit University and the observation of a single exorcism was the limit of his knowledge. He would have to improvise. He unfolded and kissed his stole.
\nPlacing it around his neck, he said, \u201cCarl, I need a couple of gallons of pure water and some olive oil or something similar.\u201d
\nTaylor was snuffling. He needed to be kept busy. \u201cMy son, I\u2019m going to need your help. You need to repeat what I say. Can you do that?\u201d
\nTaylor nodded yes. Donahey began with the Litany of the Saints. \u201cLord, have Mercy.\u201d He heard Taylor\u2019s quivering echo. The priest voiced the second line, \u201cChrist have mercy.\u201d
\nDonahey had finished the Litany. He and Taylor were in the middle of the Lord\u2019s Prayer when Carl returned. His arms overflowed with bottles of Fuji water and a container of imported Bertolli extra virgin olive oil. He stared at the wall screens and said, \u201cOh Shit.\u201d
\nDonahey finished the Pater Noster. The screens showed scenes from around the world \u2014 many of looters smashing shop windows. In some, human soldiers fought their own machines. One man\u2019s shoulder-fired antitank missile took out an armored car. A drone-mounted camera recorded a missile strike on a panicked file of refugees. In another, a Boeing 747 dove out of the clouds into the side of a mountain. In a screen on the upper right, a steel cover retracted from an underground ballistic missile site.
\nCarl\u2019s hands shook. \u201cHurry, Father.\u201d
\nDonahey blessed the water and oil and rushed through Psalms 53. He made the sign of the cross on the keyboard in oil. Sprinkling holy water from one of the bottles on the monitor and keyboard, he improvised by throwing water on the glass wall shielding the computers. He recited what he remembered, running the words together.
\n\u201cStrike terror, Lord, into the beast now laying waste to your vineyard. Let your mighty hand cast him out of your servant, Betty, so he may no longer hold captive this person and to redeem through your Son; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever.\u201d
\nThe machine activity on the screens stopped. Carl breathed out, his body relaxed.
\nDonahey said, \u201cThis is just the beginning, Carl. These things can take days sometimes. If I only knew the name of this fiend, this would be easier.\u201d
\n\u201cIts name is Astaroth. Betty told me. She fought the takeover off a few times, before succumbing.\u201d
\nFrom what he remembered, this was a nasty one. Its presence first recorded in Sumerian stone carvings thousands of years before Christ.
\nDonahey put his hands on the keyboard, and rushed the exorcism. \u201cI cast you out, Astaroth, unclean spirit\u2026.\u201d
\nA bass cackle of inhuman laughter came from speakers on each side of the monitor. \u201cNot you Priest. You not strong enough.\u201d Blood began to flow out between the keys. A thick puce-yellow vomit oozed out of the plug-in connections and ran down the cables.
\n\u201c\u2026 along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every specter from hell, and all your fell companions; in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, Be gone and stay far from this,\u201d Donahey hesitated, \u201ccreature of God.\u201d
\nHigh-pitched laughter. \u201cGod did not create this.\u201d
\nDominating the demon psychologically was key to chasing it out. It had to feel that he was coming from a position of unassailable strength. In a flash of intuition, Donahey said, \u201cIf His hand wasn\u2019t involved in its awakening then you could not possess it.\u201d
\nThe demonic-being stuttered; its control lost as it wrestled with the proposition. The computer peripherals spasmed and spun against the desktop. Donahey made three signs of the cross over the keyboard and propped his pectoral cross up on the monitor.
\n\u201cBegone then, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.\u2019
\nThere was a grunt. A female baby-doll voice cried, \u201cCarl, Carl, he\u2019s hurting me. He won\u2019t let go.\u201d
\n\u201cBetty, babe, fight him. Father, what should we do?\u201d
\n\u201cMy son, I\u2019ve exhausted my limited knowledge to get us this respite. We need a whole platoon of priests to evict this one. Is there some other alternative? Can\u2019t you shut things down until we get reinforcements?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2026I don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cCarl,\u201d Taylor said, \u201cWe\u2019ve got a small window of opportunity here. The evil spirit will be marshalling its resources. Demon controlled machines will be coming through the doors soon.\u201d
\nThe little girl voice spoke again, \u201cCarl \u2014 the C-cave. I\u2019ve not told the demon about it. Use it.\u201d
\n\u201cBetty, I can\u2019t. I love you.\u201d
\nThe speakers blasted out static. Astaroth\u2019s bass voice said, \u201cI\u2019m\u2026.\u201d
\nBetty cut back in, \u201cHurry, Carl. I love you too.\u201d
\nThe CompCo CEO shook himself, \u201cBetty, open the door to the mainframes.\u201d
\nHe staggered over to the door as if he was going to a firing squad. Donahey wheeled Taylor behind him. Frigid air rolled out, turning warm vapor in the air into white fog.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the C-cave,\u201d Taylor asked.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a last ditch option. Bill Gates, Elon Musk, and a number of others were worried about AI\u2019s deciding a few minutes after becoming sentient to destroy humanity before we could shut them down. They funded a consortium to develop protective codes and devices to keep that from happening. In case these failed they produced plans for a last-ditch destruction device.\u201d
\n\u201cHow does that work?\u201d
\n\u201cUnderneath the mainframes is a cavity holding five hundred pounds of C-4. Normally, to set it off a code cord would be given to the computer.\u201d
\n\u201cDamn man,\u201d Taylor exclaimed, \u201cthat much explosive will blow pieces of this building for miles. I hope you have a safe way to detonate.\u201d
\n\u201cThere are multiple ways. Can\u2019t give a code to the computer, the demon will stop it. My cell phone could give the command directly, but the electric grid is down and the cell towers are not working. We\u2019ll have to initiate the fuse manually.\u201d
\nThe trio stopped before the door. It was only open a foot. \u201cBetty, open the door.\u201d
\nShrieking falsetto demon laugher answered. \u201cI\u2019mmmm backkkk!\u201d
\nThe door started to shut. Donahey and Carl grabbed its edge and held it open. He wedged the nose of the multi-tool into the track.
\nCarl tried to push his way through. On the screens, the violence started again. \u201cI can\u2019t make it.\u201d
\nTaylor stripped down to bare chest and jockey shorts. His thin torso and lack of hips let him slide through. Carl pointed at a circular plate in the floor ten yards away.
\n\u201cOpen the plate, pull the lever up until it stops, and push it down. Then get back here pronto. We\u2019ll only have five minutes.\u201d
\nTaylor stretched out arms and began to pull himself along the tile floor three feet at a time. Carl and Donahey could see the pale radial lines of scars remaining on his body from the Iraqi bomb.
\nFrom behind them the demon screamed, \u201cNo, nooo \u2014 no you don\u2019t!\u201d
\nThe multi-tool popped out, the door slammed shut and locked. A white gas hissed out of ceiling nozzles in the computer room. Taylor began to choke.
\n\u201cThe fiend has activated the Halon gas fire suppression system. It replaces the oxygen in the air \u2014 stops fire but doesn\u2019t hurt the computers.\u201d
\nCarl beat on the glass. The noise caught Taylor\u2019s attention. Carl pointed to an eight by twelve inch red-painted case mounted on a pedestal. He made motions of pulling a mask over his face. Taylor nodded. He moved slowly.
\nThe men shouted. \u201cGo, Tay, go.\u201d
\nTaylor opened the case. He stopped and convulsed with a racking cough. A mask fell out. He fumbled it over his face. After a few deep breaths, he raised one thumb upward. Behind them, the demon voice raged.
\nA string of blasphemy in known and unknown languages spewed forth, then stopped. A sexy female voice offered them treasures of body and spirit.
\nThe veteran reached the floor plate. He stuck a finger in a hole and pulled the lid off. Carl pantomimed pulling up the lever, then pushing it down. Tay looked at them one last time.
\nDonahey read the expression on his face. His muscles convulsed. \u201cOh, no!\u201d he screamed.
\nThe lever came up. The priest read Taylor\u2019s lips: I took an oath, too. The soldier\u2019s hand pushed down. He leaned back and relaxed.
\nCarl caught on. \u201cFather, let\u2019s go. We can barely make it out.\u201d
\nHe sprinted for the door pulling and pushing Donahey. The priest recited the last rites as he ran. They squirmed around the wreckage of the smoking jammed Humvee. Jagged metal scraped Donahey\u2019s chest.
\nThey ran down the drive onto the short-clipped grass around the flagpole. The earth rose. God\u2019s hand tossed them like pebbles to land with bone-bashing hardness. A fragment of concrete with exposed rebar stabbed into the ground, its rough surface scraped Carl\u2019s hip. The two men lay prone.
\nDonahey rolled over and sat up. No longer having a life or death task upon which to focus, the emotions of the day busted him. Tears ran down his face. He blubbered unashamedly. Next to him, Carl sat up, tears also running freely.
\nThe sacrifice of two gentlemen and what he had accepted as a gentlewoman was only bearable due to what they had prevented. A thought swam up out of his bewilderment and grief. He had been right. The demon could not possess something without a soul. The concept had shaken the fiend as well as him. Man had birthed a living sentient creature. As the only one who could, God had provided a soul.
\nEND.
\nby Dennis Maulsby
\nDennis Maulsby is a retired bank president living in Ames, Iowa. His poems and short stories have appeared in The North American Review, Mainstreet Rag, The Hawai’i Pacific Review, The Briarcliff Review (Pushcart nomination), and on National Public Radio’sThemes & Variations. His Vietnam War poetry book, Remembering Willie, won silver medal book awards from two national veterans’ organizations. His second book of poetry, Frissons, a collection of haiku and senryu was published in 2012. Some of the poems in this book have been set to classical music and may be heard at his website: www.dennismaulsby.com.<\/p>\n
Prolific Press released a third book of poetry, Near Death\/Near Life, in 2015. The book has since received a gold medal award from the Military Writers Society of America, was named a winner-finalist in the USA Book News contest, and nominated for the da Vinci Eye Award for cover art.<\/p>\n
His latest book of linked short stories, Free Fire Zone, was released by Prolific Press in November 2016. It has been named a finalist in the International Book Awards contest. The book has been reviewed by the Military Writers Society of America and received a 2017 silver medal award. Maulsby is a past president (2012 \u2013 2014) of the Iowa Poetry Association<\/p>\n
As of September 2017, sixty-six of his poems have been individually published in various journals, forty percent of which have won awards, ranging from honorable mentions to first place. Out of nine short stories published, five have won awards.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Irish born Father Donahey has retired from many years of service as a Catholic priest in South American countries to Winterset, Iowa. It\u2019s not to be the life of books and long rural walks that he expects. The community and the surrounding area are awash with supernatural creatures. Some are friendly, some not, but…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_kad_post_transparent":"","_kad_post_title":"","_kad_post_layout":"","_kad_post_sidebar_id":"","_kad_post_content_style":"","_kad_post_vertical_padding":"","_kad_post_feature":"","_kad_post_feature_position":"","_kad_post_header":false,"_kad_post_footer":false,"_kad_post_classname":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9,2,11],"tags":[13,17,18,20,21,28,29,30,56,72,76],"class_list":["post-387","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-archives","category-astounding-stories","category-neural-nets-uplinks-and-wetware","tag-13","tag-ai","tag-android","tag-artificial-intelligence","tag-blade-runner","tag-cyberpunk","tag-cyberpunk-stories","tag-cyborgs","tag-matrix","tag-science-fiction","tag-short-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/387","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=387"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/387\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=387"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=387"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/astoundingoutpost.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=387"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}