“Mr.
Warren, may I ask you something?”
Drew continued watching the Raptor’s taillights until they disappeared between the trees.
Ed, who had one arm wrapped around Lorraine, finally looked away from the dark road.
“What is it?”
“What’s the name of Father Anderson’s church?” Drew asked.
“I think I’d like to attend a service there sometime.”
Ed glanced at him with a faint smile.
“St.
Michael the Archangel Church.”
Their conversation faded into the night breeze as the Perron family returned to their farmhouse.
By then, Father Anderson was already reviewing the rewards he had earned during the day.
The exorcism mission had given him five points, while releasing the four trapped spirits had earned another three.
Eight attribute points was a substantial reward, especially when the system considered ten points the average value for an ordinary person.
A translucent panel appeared above the Raptor’s steering wheel.
[Alexander Anderson]
[Race: Human]
[Occupations: Priest, Professor of Pharmacology, Physician…]
[Constitution: 24/24]
[Note: Average human value is 10.]
[Vitality: 98.5/98.5]
[Note: Average human value is 10.]
[Spirit: 83/83]
[Note: Average human value is 10.]
[Magic: 134/134]
[Note: 1 point of Magic is restored every minute.]
[Equipped Item: Basic Clerical Robe]
[Defense: 6]
[Durability: 6/10]
[…]
Anderson considered his options only briefly before assigning all eight points to Vitality.
His other attributes were already far beyond normal human limits, but he never felt that he possessed enough life force.
If his Vitality eventually reached several thousand points, a bullet through the chest might cost him only a small fraction of his health.
At tens of thousands, ordinary injuries could become little more than scratches.
If he somehow accumulated millions, he might become functionally immortal.
[Points Assigned Successfully]
[Vitality: 98.5 → 106.5]
[…]
A powerful wave of heat immediately surged through his body.
His heartbeat strengthened, his lungs expanded more easily, and an unbearable itching sensation spread through his muscles and internal organs as the system reinforced them.
Anderson gripped the steering wheel while his entire body seemed to float with energy.
He turned on the radio and increased the volume, allowing an aggressive rock song to fill the cab.
“Come on!
Louder!”
The song’s pounding drums and flirtatious chorus matched the intensity of the changes taking place inside him.
Anderson shouted along with the music for several seconds before the heat finally faded.
Once his body stabilized, his expression returned to its usual calm.
He reached toward the center console and switched off the radio.
“Far too noisy.”
The dashboard clock read 10:51 p.m.
Anderson pressed the accelerator, hoping to reach Boston before one in the morning.
He still needed to complete his daily prayer task, and he had no intention of sacrificing an easy half point.
The route was remote, and at that hour, the highway was almost completely empty.
Dense forest bordered both sides of the road, while the distant Appalachian foothills formed dark shapes beneath the night sky.
The Raptor’s headlights cut through the darkness as Anderson drove faster. This story is hosted at g.com.
For several miles, his truck was the only moving light on the road.
Then he heard someone shouting.
“Hey!”
“Please stop!”
Anderson’s foot moved from the accelerator to the brake.
The Raptor slowed sharply before coming to a stop near the shoulder.
“What now?”
He checked the rearview mirror.
Two young women emerged from the darkness behind the truck.
Their faces were smeared with dirt, and their clothes were soaked with mud.
Both looked exhausted, terrified, and desperate.
“Hey!
Please!”
The moment they realized the truck had stopped, they hurried toward it.
One of the women had an injured leg and could barely place weight on it.
The other supported her around the waist, forcing both of them to stumble forward together.
Despite the injury, they were moving remarkably fast.
Anderson’s eyes narrowed.
“They’re running from something.”
He reached for the Winchester Model 1897 resting beside him.
After checking the chamber, he opened the driver’s door and stepped onto the highway.
His tall frame, black clerical clothing, and Roman collar became visible beneath the taillights.
Relief immediately appeared on the women’s faces when they recognized him as a priest.
“Father!” the uninjured woman shouted.
She wore a torn white tank top and mud-covered jeans.
Her dark hair was tangled around her face, but Anderson recognized the determination beneath her fear.
Then she noticed the shotgun.
Her relief vanished.
Anderson raised the Winchester and aimed at both women.
“Stop where you are.”
They froze several yards from the truck.
“Father, wait!” the woman pleaded.
“We’re not trying to hurt you.”
Anderson studied them carefully.
Human threats sometimes used injured women to lure drivers out of their vehicles, and supernatural creatures were equally capable of imitating helpless victims.
“Names.”
“I’m Jessie Burlingame,” the brunette answered quickly.
She tightened her hold around the injured woman.
“This is Carly.”
Carly’s face had become pale from pain and blood loss.
One side of her clothing was torn, and her injured ankle was already badly swollen.
“Why are you on this road?” Anderson asked.
Jessie glanced over her shoulder toward the forest.
“There are killers out there.”
Her voice cracked, and she struggled to continue.
“They attacked us in the woods.
Our friends are dead, and those men are still chasing us.”
Anderson’s expression didn’t change, but his attention shifted toward the surrounding trees.
“Men?”
“I don’t know what they are,” Jessie replied.
“They have weapons, and they know these woods.
They butchered our friends like animals.”
Carly began trembling more violently.
She looked at Anderson’s truck, then at the shotgun in his hands.
“My family has money.
We can pay you—whatever you want.
Just don’t leave us here.”
Anderson raised an eyebrow.
The promise of money was unnecessary, but the terror in their voices appeared genuine.
Neither woman had reacted to his crucifix or displayed any of the physical signs he associated with possession, shapeshifters, or disguised supernatural entities.
They were human.
More importantly, they were being hunted.
Anderson lowered the Winchester.
“Come here.”
Relief flooded their faces.
Jessie immediately helped Carly forward, though their progress remained painfully slow.
Anderson scanned the tree line while they approached.
The highway crossed a remote section of the Appalachian wilderness, where the forest became almost impenetrable after sunset.
Beyond the Raptor’s headlights, the trees merged into a single wall of darkness.
An ordinary person would have struggled to see more than a few feet between the trunks.
Anderson found it difficult to believe that two injured young women had escaped experienced killers through terrain like this.
Either they had been extremely fortunate, or whoever was chasing them had deliberately allowed them to reach the highway.
The second possibility was more concerning.
He cautiously moved toward them with the Winchester held at his side.
Jessie glanced nervously at the forest again.
“They could be close.”
“I know.”
Anderson stopped beside Carly and examined her leg.
She tried to remain standing, but her injured ankle folded beneath her weight.
He caught her before she fell.
“You’re moving too slowly.”
Both women stared at him, uncertain whether he was criticizing them.
“Sorry,” Jessie said breathlessly.
“She can barely walk.”
“That wasn’t a complaint.”
Anderson wrapped his right arm around Carly’s waist and lifted her from the ground with one hand.
Her body rose so easily that she barely had time to react.
Carly instinctively grabbed his shoulder.
“Oh.”
Jessie stared at the priest’s arm, then at Carly suspended beside him.
Anderson adjusted his grip until the injured woman was secure against his side.
“Can you walk on your own?” he asked Jessie.
“Yes.”
“Good.
Stay close and don’t look back.”
Carly finally recovered from her surprise.
“Thank you, Father.”
Anderson carried her toward the Raptor while Jessie hurried beside him.
His gaze remained fixed on the dark woods surrounding the highway.
Nothing moved between the trees.
No voices followed them, and no footsteps broke the silence.
That only made Anderson more suspicious.
If a group of killers had chased Jessie and Carly this far, they should have already appeared—or at least made some effort to stop their escape.
Unless they were watching.
Anderson tightened his grip on the Winchester and continued toward the truck.
Somewhere beyond the reach of the headlights, a branch snapped.
End of Chapter 14