Atlanta Rain: Into the inferno

Introduction

This is a story about loss, depression, losing your faith, and facing your own inner demons. Atlanta Rain Taylor is a character that I have come to have a great deal of affection for over the past year, and I fully intended for her story to continue but not quite yet. When I began writing this book, it was initially a short horror story about the hanging post out at Combe. Atlanta wasn’t very happy about that idea though and she insisted that she could help. Reluctantly I agreed.

There are numerous stories about what happened out at the village of Inkpen where a fabled haunted hanging post still exists to this day and I have touched on two of these versions of events within this book. It’s quite difficult to know which of the accounts of the murders is true. As the years have passed by the stories have descended into folklore and myth. I used quite a lot of artistic license in forging this story, and without giving too much away I incorporated elements of witchcraft to elevate the drama.

As far as I know, none of the characters from history were actually involved in practicing the dark arts, but two were found guilty of adultery and sentenced to death for the crime of passion. I offer sincere apologies if there any living descendants of the couple who are mentioned but this is entirely a work of fiction. It took me three drafts to get this book even close to where I wanted it to be so I had to bend the rules slightly.

Interestingly enough, part three of the Atlanta Rain saga is already half prepared within my head and I can’t wait to start working on it properly. I want to give the trilogy the ending that I feel it truly deserves. I hope that you enjoy this book and have a wonderful year ahead of you that brings you the joy and happiness that you all deserve.

Now let’s just head down straight into that inferno together, shall we? I have a torch for protection, but I’m not sure if it will be quite enough for what we are about to face....

Martin McGregor December 2018

Prologue

The darkness that lives in the heart of all men

The hospital room was pale and sterile, as most end of life hospital rooms are. It was sealed off from the outside world to stop the risk of infection spreading to any other patients in the hospital. The room contained just a single solitary bed for the room’s only occupant. It was much better for him that way though. His diagnosis was terminal and now it was just a matter of time, but the end was close and he wanted to be alone with just his regrets for company.

All that they could do for him now was to keep feeding his body with drugs that would help to ease the pain he was in. The drugs helped to ease the physical pain but the mental torture that he endured, well that was something else entirely. The memories were constant reminders and his nightmares were fraught with the horrors that he had seen and they would remain with him until his dying breath. This wasn’t living not by any means it was just surviving from one day to the next. They were just delaying the inevitable. They tried new drugs almost daily, but nothing was working at all.

As Steven opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. His eyesight had been declining steadily over the last few days. There was little point in him wearing his glasses now. Every time that he closed his eyes, he knew full well that it might be the last time that he would ever see this realm of existence again. He didn’t believe in heaven, but he most certainly believed in hell. He had seen things that no mortal was ever meant to have witnessed.

This was just a temporary reprieve from what was coming. To him it was just another day of being kept alive so he could torture himself even more. If he had the strength left within him to end his own life, then he probably would have done so days ago. That one way trip to hell was long overdue. He had survived for longer than anyone had expected him too, but he had carried the guilt along with him since that fateful day. That was the day when he had escaped from the eternal darkness below, but his escape had come at a cost.

He looked at the watch that he wore on his left arm. It showed that it was almost nine in the morning. The watch was over five years old, and it was still going strong. It would last longer than he would now. Where it would end up after he had passed away, he had no idea.

There were no children for him to pass his family name down to. It was lucky in a way, as he had very little left to leave to anyone. He was still young, and he hadn’t really lived at all yet. He had next to nothing in worldly goods, and now he had no one left that he could turn to in his darkest hours either. He knew of the misery that waited for him, and it was only that fear which had kept him alive this far. He couldn’t hold out much longer though. He knew that only too well.

The disease had really taken hold of him in the last few days, and the infection had spread throughout his body faster than they could treat him. There were limited options left open for them to explore now. The extreme ideas for treatment such as radiation would most likely have killed him off faster than the disease itself, so now it was just deciding which was the lesser of the two evils.

He was the last living victim of the infection. Prayer was not an option either. No one was coming to save him. He knew that. Not that it stopped that damned priest from trying to convince him otherwise. The priest’s daily appearance outside of the sterile plastic enclosure was as regular as clockwork too.

It was nine thirty on the dot, when he heard those familiar steps come tap tap tapping on the floor as the priest came walking along the corridor. He was heading towards Steven’s room. The machines which monitored his vital signs bleeped away noisily in the background, but he hardly paid any attention to them at all now. Those footsteps though. The sound of those shoes connecting with the floor as they approached his room, well that sound was almost enough to drive him insane. Steven looked up, and over towards the door of his room. It was now being pushed open slightly.

The footsteps had stopped directly outside of his room.

Can I come in? The priest asked him.

You don’t give up, do you? Steven said. He was too tired to be angry with the priest. Apart from the doctors and nurses, the priest was the only visitor who still tried to come and talk to him each day.

Time is short. You know that just as well as I do. There is still time to repent for your sins before you move on to the next life my son. The priest offered his words with conviction.

Encouraged by the tone of the conversation so far, the priest was already edging his way further into the room and inching himself closer to the sealed plastic enclosure that surrounded the bed. Steven smiled at him, he even gave him a little chuckle too, that was until his lungs reminded him that he was too ill to become excited, and he began to cough hard into his hand. His heart rate then increased momentarily on the monitor.

As he gasped for breath, Steven’s eyes opened wide with fear. He wasn’t quite ready to go just yet. As he stared over at the priest who was now stood at a half way point between the bed and the door, he suddenly felt a sense of calmness washing over him. Perhaps it was the thought of having company in his final moments that was now soothing him. Or maybe it was finally time to admit his cowardly act to someone else.

He had never been religious nor had he ever believed in God, but that did not mean that he didn’t believe in the devil. He had seen the power of the devil with his own eyes. As his breathing slowed back to the normal rate, he used his hand to beckon the priest to move over closer towards him.

Are you sure you want to hear my confession priest? It may not be what you want to hear at all? He asked.

I am ready to take your confession my son, if you are willing to offer it up to me? He replied.

Then you better sit your arse down father. This might take me a while. The priest sat down close to the bed and he placed his bible facing upwards on the top of his right leg.

Where do I even begin? Steven said under his breath.

Tell me about what happened. The priest replied. He just needed to know where the girl was now.

Summers end

The train engine gradually accelerated as it moved steadily along the rail tracks. It was another scorching hot summer’s day, and everyone was feeling the prolonged effects of the heat. This summer had been ridiculously hot, and the heat had not abated for what felt like a very long time. It was now late August, and the weather was still unbearable. The English were always the first to complain about the extremes in the weather. It was either too hot or too cold, and seemingly the English could never find a happy medium.

Atlanta didn’t mind the warmth, but she too was now ready for the change in the seasons to happen. She loved autumn and the spectacular brown hues that became abundant in nature as the trees began to shed their leaves. It was warm here in the train carriage but she was grateful that the train wasn't too crowded and that there were ample places for her to sit down. It made a pleasant change instead of being crammed into an overcrowded carriage like a sardine in a tin can. Atlanta sat down in a bank of four seats that she had all to herself. Sometimes the trains were so overcrowded, that people had to stand up or sit down on the floor. Sometimes the smell was unbearable too when it was this hot.

Atlanta placed her hand flat on the window. It felt cool underneath her skin, despite the sun beating down outside on the toughened glass. She closed her eyes and focused on the structure of the glass. Once it was sand, and it still held the memory of the form that it once took. A pulse of energy fed through her fingertips, and she made the atoms of the window change shape. Her hand then slipped through the glass as easily as if it was passing through water.

It was another little trick that she had been working on to add to her already impressive collection of talents. She then quickly pulled her hand back through the fluid glass pane. She was wary that her hand was in a precarious position and it might strike a solid object at any second that it had remained outside. Ever since she was a young child, she had always been different.

She had been given a gift that she still didn't understand, but without it the world would have been in a much darker place. The world had already been exposed to the monumental powers of evil twice over. This demure young woman had twice saved the entire world and hardly anyone knew of what she had done in the name of humanity. She preferred to keep it that way.

Of late, her dreams had been much darker as she recalled the horror at seeing the images of the murder of her parents. Her parents were innocents embroiled in her battle. Often her thoughts would turn to her mother. Her mother had been