by Mark Tufo
“Big deal,” I answered him.
“Smart! Anger the archangel, Tallboat.”
“He came to kill us. I’d rather he was angry instead of disinterested in the whole affair.”
“It matters to you how someone feels when they are about to kill you?” Kalandar asked.
“It shouldn’t, but it does.” I raised my rifle. Selaphiel’s eye grew brighter as it absorbed my round. Azile created, then sent a jagged spike of green energy into Selaphiel’s body. The swirling of his mass became sluggish; it began to take on more definition. I don’t know what game plan the two were on, but Kalandar rushed the angel, shining red blade held high above his head. Selaphiel’s wings began to flap, attempting to force the large demon backward. Kalandar, with his head down, pressed his way forward. When he was close enough, he used his sword to fight back the great wings as they became weapons in their own right.
“Your rifle will do very little,” Azile said. The words weren’t strained, but I could see that what she was doing was using up a lot of resources to accomplish.
It is immensely difficult to put down a functional, fully-loaded firearm and reach for a hand axe. I did it, though, because Kalandar was in the fight of and for his life and Azile couldn’t keep that, whatever it was, up all day. I charged in, axe held high, battle cry ripping forth from my lungs. I was swatted away by Selaphiel’s left wing as easily as if I’d been a black fly heading in for a blood meal on a suspecting farmer. Caught air for about fifteen feet before I came to a skidding collision ass-first.
“Motherfucker,” I said as I grunted back up into a standing position. I’d somehow held on to the blade. I figured stealth might be more warranted this go around. The being must have had some prescience, as he was spinning to meet me, or as best he could, given that Kalandar was relentless in his attack. The demon was getting battered but would not stop. I was dangerously close to Azile’s beam, or whatever it could be called. I had a sneaking suspicion that if it even grazed me, it would be game over. I could see Azile shifting to stay away; Selaphiel was not cooperating. I dove under just as the blaze passed overhead–there was no heat, more of an arctic blast. I swung out, hitting the angel in the side. Light, the color of an exploding nuclear device, poured out from an expanding fissure. There was a high-pitched shriek that sounded more feral than anything I had thus far encountered.
Definitely a wounding, but if anything, it seemed to have pissed him off more than cause any significant damage. An unfurling wing sent Kalandar rolling in the dirt. The angel focused his attention on Azile. His body began to pulse a deepening red, seemingly to counteract what she was doing, though in reality, I had no idea what either of them were doing. I struck again, but I was instantly scraped away from his body; my blow barely broke the surface. Kalandar had a fist to the ground; I could see him marshaling his energy as he pulled his other arm up and over his head.
Purple whips of lightning radiated out from his outstretched arm and hand. He hurled it at the enemy, who went to bat it away with his right wing like a baseball player. The ball broke apart upon impact and the shards of the bolt traveled up and down the length of the wing, seeming to freeze it in place. The eye turned its gaze from Azile to Kalandar. I seized the opportunity; so far, all of the angel’s defensive tactics revolved around his wings and that was what I was going to attack, although, not head-on. I got behind and spotted where the wing attached to the body. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the junction point was as thick around as an average waist. I launched and swung with all the power afforded me, lodging that blade deep into the muscle and tissue.
What came out of that being was not a sound ever before heard upon the earth, and my hope was it never would be again. Light blew forth from the wound I had created. Selaphiel spun quickly; again, I was sent away. This time I had not been prepared for it and felt the full sting of the strike. Something had broken on impact; not entirely sure what it was, as my entire body throbbed. There was a tearing sound as the angel tried to flap its wings, the right side worked perfectly, the left was drooping and the wound grew larger. He flew up a few feet and spun in my direction. Had a pretty good feeling of what he wanted to do as he willed himself to gain more height.
“Tallboat, you should get up,” Linnick said as we watched the angel rise above us. It was like we were mice watching the hawk descend upon us. Azile was doing her best to pull him back toward her, but the effort was not going to be enough to keep the being from clutching us with talons that suddenly jutted from the bottom of its legs. It was Kalandar that saved us from the fate of being shredded like a slow-roasted brisket. He plunged his sword into and through the side of the angel, bringing it to an ungraceful landing. The angel’s entire body was heaving, the eye followed me as I came upon him.
“You cannot kill me.” It wasn’t clear if he’d truly meant those words or had spoken them as a way to deter me from trying.
“You sure about that?” I don’t know if he saw the glint of gold in my eyes, but I could feel the fear radiating off him.
“Maker!” Selaphiel cried out once and only once. I think this was when he remembered that help wasn’t coming, that he had turned away from that allegiance. “Ragu…” I think he was crying out for another archangel. One had been enough; I was in no shape to fight more of them, neither were any of the others. I ripped my blade free from his shoulder and sank it deep into that monstrous eye. The angel shuddered and lay still. I figured now might be the time it would turn into bright colors before fading away into nothingness or possibly it would change to ash and blow away on a stiff breeze. None of those preferable outcomes happened. The body lay there and I was stuck with the unenviable task of grabbing my ooze-covered blade and pulling it free from a giant eyeball.
“That’s going to cause some repercussions,” Kalandar said as he grabbed his weapon.
“We should leave here,” Azile said, she looked tapped. “His brothers will come to investigate. They won’t be caught as unaware as he was. Knowing we can kill them, they will change how they approach us.”
“No more of the early warning shock and awe?” I asked.
Chapter 20
Brothers
Six golden streaks illuminated the midnight sky. The six angels formed a circle around their fallen brother.
“Who could have done such a thing?” Raguel asked as he approached the body.
“I think we all know who had a hand in this,” Michael answered, his anger burning bright.
“Maker killed him?” Uriel asked. “How could he do such a thing? Is our plan worth this? Worth the wrath of God? Worth opposing him?”
“Now more than ever,” Michael responded. “Maker will be made to pay for this.”
“Careful, brother. There is more than Maker’s hand in all of this.” Gabriel was by the body, leaning in closely and smelling around the wound.
“Mortals cannot kill our kind,” Barachiel said, looking around for any threats.
“And no mortals did,” Gabriel replied.
“Demons. I could smell the stink of them when we arrived,” Raphael replied.
“Maker’s pet was here, too.” Gabriel stood.
“Killing the creator’s creation; I like the thought of that,” Michael said.
“It may not be that simple; he contains the blood of a luvier within him.”
Michael looked over at Gabriel. “That is not possible; even Maker is not capable of that.”
“Are we not looking upon the proof?” Gabriel asked.
“Perhaps if we offer amends to Maker, he will bring our lost brother back,” Raguel begged.
“There is no going back,” Michael said. “Our course has been plotted.”
“But we have never lost one of our own, Michael. Does that not change things?” Raguel asked.
“It just means the victory will be that much sweeter once it is attained,” Michael replied.
“What shall we do with the body?” Barachiel asked.
“Bring i
t with us. We will drop it on Maker’s doorstep, let him see the consequences of his actions,” Michael replied.
Barachiel looked over at Uriel. He did not like the fact that they could be killed. There had been only a couple of times in their long and storied history that any of them had even been injured; death had not even seemed a remote possibility.
Gabriel turned to look at a spot off to the side where the darkness appeared to be folding in on itself, growing blacker than the surrounding night. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw Samael step through.
“Ah, my brothers. How very good to see you.” Samael smiled, his black maw opening wide.
“You are brother to none, Death.” Michael turned to face him.
“Come, come! Is that any way to treat the angel who cleans up after your messes? How many millions has this merry little band laid waste to? And who’s the one that always follows behind? I’ve got to admit, I was as surprised as anyone when I was called to gather Selaphiel up. What’s strange was he wasn’t even on my docket, as though his destiny hadn’t been written. First time for everything, I suppose.”
“Give him back!” Raguel cried out.
Samael laughed; it was a dry, mirthless sound, more like the cough of an active tuberculosis patient, rather than anything born of merriment. “Different sort of feeling, isn’t it? Knowing that you’re not all-powerful, that you can be ended? Changes everything. It’s easy to fight for a cause when there are no real repercussions. It is not difficult to take on an opponent you know cannot defeat you. How do you feel now? Now that you know I may come and stand over you, laughing as I collect your newly vulnerable vessels?”
“I will kill you!” Michael flashed red.
“You are off your game, my almighty, powerful, Archangel Michael. You cannot kill what is already dead!” Samael again laughed, and he did not stop until long after the angels had disappeared, departing even quicker than they had come. Samael’s crowing echoed throughout the area long after he, himself, had vanished.
Chapter 21
Mike Journal Entry 9
We traveled fast and hard, and I don’t even mean that as a double entendre. We wanted to put as much distance as we could between us and the fallen angel. What had happened was the stuff of legend, of fiction, and to be honest, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. If written history ever returns, how would this be recorded? Depending on which side wins, I will either be listed among the most despicable villains known to humanity or one of the noblest heroes. Truthfully, neither light suited me all that much. What I wouldn’t do to just peacefully go about my days in our little corner of the world, playing with the kids, enjoying my family. What was happening, what had been happening, was more than I’d ever wanted. Once upon a time, I had asked the heavens for some help in escaping the drudgeries of everyday life. Single biggest mistake of my entire existence, and that’s saying a lot.
If we’re honest with ourselves, who ever really thinks that a prayer will be answered? If I’d thought for one minute there was a chance of it, I would have been way more specific. Maybe ask for like, ten million after-tax dollars. And let’s be real; when you plead to the heavens, you think the message is going straight up to the big guy. No one ever thinks it might be intercepted. Definitely not by some vengeful little asshat who has nothing but time on her hands to make your life a living hell, anyway. I mean, really, these aren’t things us normal humans think about. We are rooted much more in the mundane, the daily strife and struggle of our lives, dinner and a movie, maybe. I don’t even know where the fuck I was going with this other than that we had done something today which will never be forgotten. For good or bad, we have branded ourselves into the fabric of history, and you know what? It was fucking terrifying.
“I’ve had a revelation,” I said.
“Make it quick–we need to leave,” Azile said.
“We need to go a little farther north.”
“The gate is no longer of paramount importance. You can see that now, right?” she said.
“I’m thinking something more terrestrial.”
She caught on pretty fast. “Are you mad?”
“I think we need a new question. Pretty sure that baseline has already been established,” I told her.
“He sounds so intelligent when he talks like that. It’s unfortunate that his actions so often undo his words.” Linnick felt the need to throw her pint-sized ass into the discussion.
“You do remember what almost happened the last time you tried this stunt, right?” Azile asked.
“Duh. I was there, remember?”
“Mike, what did we have for lunch two days ago?” Azile asked me.
“Why?”
“Answer the question.”
“Dried something…no, wait…Oggie caught a rabbit. No…that was yesterday.” I had my hand on my chin as I thought about it. “Yeah, dried something.”
“You completely forgetting about the quail?”
“Right!” I shouted excitedly. “That thing was delicious!”
“Point made,” she smirked.
“About what?” I was still ruminating on the bird and wild potatoes meal we’d enjoyed.
“Not only do you not remember what you ate just the other day, but what we were arguing about less than two minutes ago.”
“Honey.”
“Don’t honey me.”
“Sweetie, we aren’t arguing; I’m going to get the zombies. That was never in doubt. And I’m going to steer them directly into the polions, because we’re going to need as much help as possible. What I need from you are some rides.”
“What is happening?” Kalandar asked.
“This human here with the tiny brain heard a story that there were thousands of zombies holed-up just north of here, and he wants to go ask for their assistance in this war,” Azile said sarcastically.
“Sounds like a splendid idea,” Kalandar replied. “He is correct, too. With six angels, the polions, and possibly the Lycan against us, we will need help from all quarters. Who are these ‘zombies?’”
“Oh, just infected humans that eat whatever they can catch,” Azile answered.
“Indiscriminately?”
“Without pause,” she told him.
“I like the idea less.”
“Azile, we need them.”
“Listen to yourself! You want to potentially unleash a hundred thousand zombies into a completely unsuspecting world?”
“Woman, if we don’t do this, there might not be a world to unleash them upon. Haven’t you ever seen how they put out well fires?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how setting off an explosion to evaporate all the oxygen in any way relates to our circumstances.”
Maybe she would have argued, maybe she wouldn’t have. In the end, I won out–only because we had to fucking go and my stupidity made me a lot more stubborn than her. She had to figure I would be willing to wait until all six of the angels came down and pummeled me into the ground just to prove my point about how much we needed help from wherever we could get it. From where we were, when the horses she summoned met up with us, it only took a day and a half to get to the stadium; good thing Azile is basically a human GPS because I would have had no clue how to get there.
The smell was present, but it was much more subdued than what I was used to from back in the day. It was the domed structure that had my attention rapt. The elements had not been kind; nearly half of it was covered in vines, and the color had been bleached out. What remained was a crusty yellow. Chunks of cement and twisted steel the size of big rigs were strewn around, but still, it stood. This wasn’t the pyramids of Giza, built when things were meant to last forever. This was an NFL stadium designed for roughly thirty years of service before being torn down and replaced with something even larger and more extravagant. There was nothing around except this stadium, like it had been flown in and dropped in the middle of the Amazon rainforest.
“How is this possible?” I asked Azile.
Sh
e was looking around as well. “I can’t tell for sure, but it may be that this is meant to be here.”
“Well, that settles it.”
“Settles what?” she asked.
“If it’s meant to be here that means we’re supposed to use the zombies.”
“That’s a leap of logic,” Kalandar said.
“I’m with him on this one.” Azile pointed to Kalandar. “I said it might be here for a reason, and even if that’s the case, we have no idea whose reason and why.”
“One problem at a time.” I was heading for the front doors; some of the glass had been broken out but not much. I went in slowly, followed immediately by Azile and Kalandar. There were leaves and branches inside the main entrance, as to be expected, but there were absolutely zero signs of any animal activity in those wide, cement hallways. Tubby’s sandwich booth looked like it could be up and running with minimal effort. Sure, everything was blanched, but that did little to diminish the gurgling in my stomach as I looked upon the grilled steak sandwich the menu offered.
“If there are thousands of zombies in here shouldn’t we be having difficulty breathing?” Azile asked.
“I’ve been thinking on that as well. The mere fact that I’m hungry leads me to believe that maybe that trader exaggerated what he saw.”
Kalandar had gone to a door labeled Upper Deck; it protested its movement, groaning brutishly as it swung outward. He peered in before turning back. “Is under-aggerated a word? You are both going to want to see this.”
Suddenly I wished I had listened to their protests. I had an idea of what I was in store for and I was right, to a degree, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Thousands of zombies was a conservative estimate; the entire field was covered in them, stacked nearly fifty feet tall. There was enough light to see the feet-thick gelatin they were encased in. Here’s just one more example of why everyone should hate ham. From time to time my mother would purchase canned ham, and it seemed like no matter what I had going on in my life, I just always happened to be in the kitchen when she would open that aberration up. So, you would get this wafting smell of rotten pink pig, but then also the visual of the thick layer of fat that had congealed at the top. What I was looking at was very reminiscent of that. Though this fat was much, much, thicker and did not need the confines of a tin can to keep its square-like shape. Also, yeah. Zombies inside.