Chris Rogers, Author

Invite the Devil In by Chris Rogers

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A snout, like a pig's, only broader.
Tusks, long, curved and covered with slime.
Hair, coarse and wiry, falling from the snout, from the mouth, from the sides of the wedge-shaped head.
Eyes, red-orange and burning like molten steel.

I slammed my hand on the switch, shutting it off, my heart tripping like an air hammer. I couldn't breathe. The air in the room felt thick and hot. I shoved my chair back, but couldn't take my eyes from the monitor.
The CPU began to reboot.
I flew across the room, jerked the plug from the wall
and sat on the floor, hugging my knees and waiting.
The CPU remained quiet, the monitor blank. I watched it all night, not knowing what else to do, too afraid to even think. Twice, I was sure the awful face appeared at my window, but it was only in my head, those burning eyes glaring from the darkness.

Dawn crept in without fanfare, pale, puny rays seeping through rain clouds clotting the sky like gray cottage cheese. I wore the Walkman to school. There'd been no reason to hide my thoughts during the night. If Abra bothered to listen, he heard nothing but yammering fear. I hadn't been at school an hour when I got an emergency call. Mom had been in a car wreck.A teacher drove me to the hospital. Mom looked small and frail against the white sheets. A purple bruise covered the left side of her face, and her arm was bandaged from wrist to shoulder, but she was conscious, thanks to the new air bags. The doctor said she had a concussion and would have to stay in the hospital overnight.

"Our new car is totaled," she said.
"I was getting tired of the color, anyway. Tell the insurance company we want one to match your eyes." I couldn't tell her the insurance company was likely to renege on paying the claim.

Later, stumbling from class to class like a zombie, music blasting through the headphones, I tried to figure a way out. I wouldn't put Mom in danger again. But the thought of opening a door to the monster that had flickered on my screen made the blood freeze in my veins. Yet what choice did I have?
Get help?

Let's say I dreamed up a story good enough to convince police officers or a priest, or an animal handler from the zoo to stand by while I opened the electronic door. Abra would know. He would simply stay away while I made a fool of myself.
There was nothing to do but go through with it.
That night, I plugged in the PC and turned it on.

"ARE YOU FINISHED PLAYING GAMES, SMART GUY?"
"Tell me what to do. I'll do it.
"TYPE EXACTLY WHAT I WRITE, LINE FOR LINE."
"What are we writing?"
"A PROGRAM TO OPEN THE PORTAL."
"Why can't you type it yourself?"
"THE DOOR HAS TO UNLOCK FROM YOUR SIDE. JUST DO IT. NO MORE LIP, NO MORE WISE-ASS TRICKS."
"Okay, okay. Let's do it."
"TYPE: GOTO ATHENE,"

What the hell was athene? I wondered. The letters I typed glowed with a peculiar brightness, while Abra's identical command hung dead on the screen.

"ENTER ZIK, BREATH TAKER."
Wait a minute. What, or who, was Zik?
"I thought your name was Abra."
"STOP INTERRUPTING. TYPE."
"Okay."

As I typed, the screen began to swirl with those murky shapes again. A thin, high-pitched hum came from the monitor.

"GOTO BEZRA, ENTER ANUBIS, DEATH WIELDER."

Zik, Anubis, was he bringing a whole gang? The CPU growled, and the keys felt warm under my fingers.

"GOTO CARSAS, ENTER HEDRA, PAIN RAKER."

The more I typed, the more I hated it. My stomach knotted and my face felt flushed. The names Anubis and Hedra sounded familiar from my research at the library. I tried to imagine what horrors three demons could wreak, or would it be five, one for each point on the pentacle?
Athene, Bezra, Carsas (A, B, C). Could these be the first three points? If so, the next would start with D.

"GOTO DAMOG, ENTER ERSKAT, THOUGHT SHIELDER."

The keyboard felt hot and spongy, my fingers not striking the keys so much as sinking into them. The CPU vibrated, its growl expanding like air in a vacuum. Mixed with the high keening from the monitor, the sound assaulted my eardrums like electronic feedback screaking from a faulty mike. My head wanted to explode. I couldn't think.
to think.
Damog. That made four points. Erskat, four demons. If Abra was next

"GOTO EXLAM, ENTER ABRA, BLOOD SLAKER."

This was the moment to think of something brilliant.

"EXECUTE."

Even something semi-brilliant. Mom's old camp song kept going around in my head, "Sweet violets . . . covered all over with sweet violets." A loop.

"TYPE EXECUTE, DAMMIT!"

The murky colors swirled and throbbed until Abra's snout face stared at me from behind the glowing commands, his eyes burning with fury.
A loop was too simple. It wouldn't work.
But I couldn't think of anything brilliant. It had to work.
As fast as my fingers could move over the melting keyboard, I added my own line to Abra's program

"GOTO GOTO ATHENE,"

Then I finally typed

"EXECUTE."

I hit the ENTER key.
Abra's face dimmed. The words "PLEASE WAIT" blinked at center screen.
The growl fell to a hum. The vibration stopped.
Smoke curled from the vent, smelling like rotten eggs.
The screen tint changed from blue to purple to blood red, then murky again, like sewer sludge. The colors writhed like worms behind the blinking message. Abra's face disappeared pixel by pixel until only his furious eyes glared like twin suns at nova. Finally, they dissolved, too.
A jackal's head appeared, sleek and grinning. A viper lunged toward the screen, fangs dripping something viscous. The sludge humped and throbbed into the shape of a cat with too many silver teeth like razors. Then something with a dozen spindly legs skittered through the twisting patterns, growing larger and closer until its black, bloated, pulsing body filled the screen, insect eyes so full of hatred I could feel it like heat waves.

My skin turned to goose flesh. My bowels wanted to let go. I fought down the urge to vomit, the effort breaking my skin out in cold sweat. For the rest of the night, my eyes never left the swirling screen. When dawn peeped around the miniblinds, I started to believe the plan had worked, that I had locked Abra and his friends in a loop.

I dressed for school.
Mom called. She was being released from the hospital and taking a taxi home. I switched off the monitor so she wouldn't lose her breakfast if she peeked in. But I don't dare turn off the PC.
What if a disconnect gave Abra and his friends a toe hold and they popped on through?
I just pray we never a power outage.

THE END

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