“Ryan, where are they?” I whispered across to him in the dark hall that we were crouching in.
“I don’t know, but they aren’t here,” he whispered back. A shiver went up my spine as I moved quickly to his side of the hall. He put a comforting arm around me while in the other hand, he held some kind of device that measured the energy levels of the electromagnetic fields around us. I also knew that he had a small thermal camera around his neck. Those two pieces of equipment were all we had at the moment to fight off what we couldn’t see. Right now, all was silent but our breathing; mine coming in small gasps, his deep and calm. I knew he had to be terrified. I knew I was terrified and I seriously thought about going back to my room and curling under the covers of my welcoming bed, but we both had to face whatever was ahead.
“Come on,” Ryan said as he abruptly withdrew his arm and led the way down the hall. A small green light flashed in front of me. From my experience around equipment such as this in the past two days, I knew that the green light indicated that levels of an electromagnetic field had been disturbed. Several things could disturb an electromagnetic field, I told myself, why should this be something bad? I followed Ryan, not wanting to be alone, even for an instant. We had moved about fifteen feet before it began again. The device he held suddenly beeped loudly and continued to beep while we stopped and looked around us in the dark. Now wasn’t the time to have left his night-vision goggles behind, I thought wryly.
First, the feeling of deep oppression hit us both and then the eerie whistling began. A door behind us slammed shut and it made me jump. Laughter, low and deep, drifted up the staircase. It was a chilling, maniacal laughter that had to come from something so wicked and vile that not even Hell would want. I had no idea what or who it was, but apparently, Ryan did. He dropped the beeping machine and fell against the wall. The machine kept beeping loudly and the laughter got louder. When I looked back to Ryan, he was clutching his chest in obvious pain. I rushed to him, more concerned about his well-being than my own, and helped him sit down.
“What’s wrong? Ryan, come on, we have to get up! We have to fight it!” I cried, tugging at his arm. His breathing was shallow and ragged now and I tried without success at getting him back on his feet. Then, without further prodding on my part, he uttered one word, “...Belial….”