Free Tribulation by Philip W Simpson

nodded
again. Yeth began to open a portal to Hell. Before it could
disappear completely, Sam called its name.
    “Yeth?”Almost
translucent, the beast turned towards him. “Thank you,” he
said.
    He wasn’t sure,
but he thought Yeth had nodded towards him, mirroring his earlier
gestures. Moments later, the Hellhound was gone.
    Sam turned his
attention to Grace. The wounds on her face and body were still
dribbling blood - ugly, red and inflamed. Thankfully, she was still
breathing. Satisfied for the moment, he stood shakily and began his
usual physical inventory. His body seemed ok. Weak but ok. Bones
and any other injuries had healed. He didn’t know how long Yeth had
watched over them, but it must have been some time.
    He found an old
priest’s robe that seemed to be relatively clean and not abused or
desecrated and wrapped her in it. Lifting her up in his arms, he
carried her outside. It was daytime and he squinted against the
slightly painful light. After being in Hell, light like this always
came as a shock.
    He found an
abandoned house nearby. It was too close to the church but he
didn’t have any other choice. This town had long been deserted.
Hopefully, whatever demons had visited in the past, had long since
given up on finding any victims here. Hopefully.
    Inside, he
located a bedroom and deposited her gently on the floor. The bed
was covered in a filthy, ashen bedspread. He stripped it off;
underneath, the sheets looked passable. He picked Grace up again
and laid her on the bed. Her clothes were nothing but burnt strips
of cloth, barely concealing her modesty. He removed them,
embarrassed, knowing that both Grace and Aimi would understand in
the circumstances. Preserving her modesty was the least of Grace’s
problems. Her wounds needed to be checked and dressed.
    Swiftly he did
just this. He tore strips of clean sheet off the bed, then using
some of the precious water from his drink bottle in his pack, he
soaked the strips and cleaned the wounds as best he could. The
small but effective medical kit came out next. Some of her wounds
were deep. With quick, precise movements, he sewed them up,
thankful for the times when Hikari had made him practice on
pig-skin. Next, he sterilized the wounds with alcohol and dressed
them with an antiseptic ointment, before finally wrapping the worst
of them in makeshift sheet bandages.
    Only then did
he cover her with the top sheet, making sure she looked
comfortable. If and when she woke - he hoped it would be the latter
– she would be hungry. Even if she wasn’t, he’d have to force her.
The beef jerky and other small supplies wouldn’t do. She’d need
something a little more substantial.
    He realized
with a start that he’d have to go hunting, and it wasn’t just for
himself. His food needs were rather basic. He only needed to hunt
occasionally and usually it was more for something to do than from
any pressing hunger. Unfortunately, there was only one thing on the
menu.
    With one last
look to ensure she was resting comfortably, he moved out into the
sitting room, closed his eyes and concentrated. He could sense
them. They were around. They were always around. He focused on
their tiny little minds, stroking their desires and their needs. He
pictured a piece of cooked flesh in this very room, imagined what
it smelt like, what it tasted like. In their minds, it suddenly
existed.
    There was a
flurry of movement and his eyes flew open. Several furry little
bodies were scurrying around his, desperately seeking what his mind
had told them existed. He had no idea where they’d come from, but
then, rats had an ability to sneak through the tiniest of holes.
Both swords came out and moved with precise strokes. Five movements
of his wrists and arms. Five bodies dead and dying at his feet.
Kicking away the others that still swirled around him, he picked up
the small bodies and took them outside. They’d have to be
thoroughly cleaned, gutted and roasted before they were even