Highway to Hell

by Lydia Anne Stevens

  "Guess not. It just makes me think back on my life and how much I missed. It's not until we lose the things we take for granted, we realize just how important they were.” I would give anything to see Fiona just one more time, but I would never tell him.

  My heart flutters when he says, “Yes, but you didn't have anyone. No one except Zeke and…"

  I stop him before he can give away my secret. My girls know about my sister, but it's not common knowledge amongst the rest of them and I'd prefer to keep it that way.

  I cut him off, "Yeah, but it wasn't just about people either. It was life and everything this world has to offer. Until I got the gig for the devil, I never traveled outside of Utah. I never went anywhere except the Midwest. Our parameters are here in America and even now I discover something more beautiful than the day before. Can you imagine it extending even beyond that?"

  "I never pegged you as the type to consider the bigger picture.”

  "Neither did I. It's a shame it wasn't until death when I developed the amount of appreciation I have for how magnificent this country is. I could ride for days and just get caught up in it all.” I don't want to beg for freedom from him, after all is said and done, but I figure it's the closest thing I can get to expressing it when conversing with Damien. Still on the fence about him is tricky because he could turn at any minute, despite how adamant he is about being on my side.

  Whether he's picking up on what I'm saying about not being keen on being the queen of Hell or not, he doesn't let on when he says, "It's too bad we don't have even that long.”

  I nod in agreement. I've gone about as cross-country as one can go in my situation, so I'll have to cherish the memories, even as rushed like a New York minute as they have been.

  I watch as the sun makes its first appearance out over the lake and wish it were a sign the light at the end of the tunnel lay beyond them. I'd be telling myself a tall one if I didn't ‘fess to wondering if somehow saving Lowell's soul, would be saving my own too. I guess it's not how it works though. Heaven and Hell don't measure on a tit for tat scale.

  I pull myself out of my reverie and look him dead in the face. “If you double cross me down there, our deal is off. I will stop at nothing to take you down if you stand in my way. If Lowell…"

  "I get it. If Lowell doesn't make it through, you'll offer my head up as a satanic ritual to appease my father and then spend eternity dancing on my grave and all.”

  I laugh. He knows me well.

  “Yeah, something like that.” I look away and at my crew. If we are going to pull off this half-cocked plan, I guess I need to let them in on the deets. I turn back to Damien, trying to think of what to say. He has come through so far. I have to give him credit where credit is due. He’s been the damn knight in not-so-shiny armor but has saved my butt a couple of times now. Credit should be given where credit is due. I can’t think of what to say though. Thank you just doesn’t seem to cut it. I open my mouth, all fish out of water but he gives me the out.

  “Thank me properly when we are ruling Hell and we don’t have a portal to punch through.” With these words, he turns and walks to his own boys to drop the plan, not giving me a chance to argue with him anymore. I walk up to my girls, figuring focusing on the plan is for the best right now. I can fight with him about boundaries and limits later. “There was a dwelling we passed and looks to be the only one for miles on the dirt road we drove in here on. We should hide the bikes.” I tell them.

  “Won’t someone try and steal them?” Tora asks.

  “Nah. The dwelling looks like a seasonal hunting camp and not a year-round camp. With the bikes well off the lane and hidden from view, I think it's safe to assume we can leave them parked.”

  “Maybe we should try to hide the rental truck though?” Fae asks.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right. With the New York PD on our asses and starting the collaboration throughout New England for the little heist we pulled, the truck is a hot ride. Let’s dump it so it can’t be associated with us anymore.”

  “Yeah, probably for the best.” Leo backs me up. We are just about to head down to the bikes and get down to business, when I turn and gaze down the mountain to where they are parked.

  Serious trouble is what I see, as the eyes of the forests deceased predators, are glinting back up at us.

  14

  It takes me a minute to process what I am seeing and I'm pretty sure the same goes for everyone else too. The horror of what is stalking us advances out of the dark. We didn't hear or see them approach because of the high winds, but since they are stepping out of the thicket on rotten hooves and bloody paws, we get a full view of what is advancing. All manner of creatures, large and small, predators and prey are making their way toward us. At the forefront of the advance is the larger of the vicious animals. The black bears and the charging moose and deer make up the generals of the assault. Smaller animals like raccoons, porcupines, and fishers make up the mid-ranks, followed by the smallest of animals; rats, squirrels, mice, and other rodents. Carnivores in the front, with the exception of the moose, and omnivores and herbivores in the back, but no less vicious.

  To a Hellcat or a Hellhound, this might seem inconsequential, but the variant making them stand out apart from such a myriad of species banding together for the attack in an organized and unified front is the fact each and every creature is dead. They range in variations of decomposition from freshly wounded with blood still dripping to skeletal remains held together by sinew and rotten flesh. And they are coming at us, snarling and hissing. Their claws, the ones remaining attached to their carcasses, are bared, along with the remnants of their teeth and fangs. All are bared as the cold, dead eyes stare us down. They are lit from within with an eerie green and grey glow, like the gangrenous rot of their flesh has lit them on fire and it's what is glowing deep within the orbs. I press my hand to my nose. You’d think I would be used to the smell of rot, since it’s Hell’s version of scent of the month. I feel my stomach roll over as the putrid smell hits my nostrils, and I catch Tora out of the corner of my eye, the newbie not used to coping with the smell of decay, turn and toss her cookies all over the forest floor. Great, in addition to rot, we now have the acrid smell of vomit to add to the mix. It’s a nasty-smelling cocktail of grossness all rolled up into a ball of not-fresh air.

  A chill runs up my spine as I turn and see more of the entourage from Hell advance from the other side of the mountain, the zombie corpses advancing in waves as they step out of the forest. I feel the hair on the back of my arms and neck stand on end, and my spine aches as the visceral response to shift into the animal lying deep inside is called to defend myself and those around me. I hear James, Lowell, and Zeke suck in a breath and the low growls of my girls and the Hellhounds behind me. I can feel Damien behind me grow larger and when I look back, he's twice his size and the swirling miasma of light and dark. Dante is standing next to Marty by the entrance of the ride and smiles serenely from the ticket booth.

  "I suggest if you have a ticket, now is the time to cash it in and climb aboard.” He slaps the side of the ticket booth and all the yellow lights flare up, casting a glare on the approaching abominations of nature. They snarl and duck their heads, but it does nothing to slow the advance. The one advantage we have is they move slowly, some of them are calling their parts, as in body parts, up from the ground as they fall apart, and the energy it takes to keep reassembling, slows them down. Then there are others with bite marks taken out of their sides, or their heads missing, but this seems to do nothing to slow them down.

  "What do you mean a ticket? No one ever said anything about tickets!" I shout over my shoulder. Apparently, Dante has been holding out on us with the juice too. I reconsider my theory. He's just on vacation from Heaven and not an angel. I wonder if he can make the ride go, or if it will be a joint effort between him and Damien because now is the time more than ever for them to work their magic.

  "Oh, I'm afraid if you don't have a ticket, you don't get to
ride.” He looks around confused and I glare at Damien as I hear the first pop of bone and muscle and then the roar of Leo as she shifts to her Hellcat form. I hear Tabby and Fae follow and taking the lead from the others, Tora shifts for the first time too. I feel for her though. The first time is never pleasant. At least with shifting to full demonic form any time after is a cakewalk. If you've never heard a couple of tomcats in a back-alley fight scream, well then, you've been spared something slightly past eerie and just before terrifying, but Tora's screams are like a screeching baby inflicted with Scarlet Fever. It sets my teeth on edge and I only breathe once I hear the howling stop and the panting takes its place. She made it through, not that she could get any deader, but still, I feel for her.

  "Well, I'll be damned,” Marty breathes as he looks at the saber tooth demons.

  "You are,” Damien murmurs as he walks up and stands next to me. “How do you want to play this, Trina?"

  I have to tip my head back to see his face and I find it is peculiar looking in the monocratic colors. His features are ebony and in contrast with the silvery metallic of his cheeks and skin.

  "What tickets do we need? What is he talking about?" I squint at the hordes approaching, judging they'll be on us in under five minutes. At least, until a volley of corpses from the sky, owls, eagles, hawks, and crows begin dive-bombing our heads. My girls swat at the projectile carcasses and Phil has lit himself up again like when he brightened the trail. The birds are deterred by his light and shrieking and squawking, they try to fly around the sheen, but end up crunching their half-rotten bodies into tree trunks and rocks. It’s like hearing a trash compactor crunch the first layer of refuse in a garbage disposal in the sink. There’s popping and crackling, followed by sickening, wet splatters. The few birds who do avoid his brilliance are able to continue to dive-bomb the rest of us. He swats at them furiously too, which results in his wings molting grey feathers everywhere. And no amount of Heavenly Hoovering is going to clean the mess up.

  "No idea with Dante. Who knows what he's going to think up?”

  "Which uncle do you think this little welcoming party is from?" I point to the oncoming as I swat a raven away from my head. I can feel my skin tighten on my bones and I know I'm pressed for time before I shift.

  "With this much regenerative power? It looks like an all-inclusive package deal from all of them.”

  A silver tendril wisps past my ear from his aura and I can feel its warmth. I want to sink myself into it and be consumed, but letting myself be the protected and not the protector is a cop-out. My mess, my barrel of rabid monkeys approaching. Or rather mountain lions. Lots and lots of mountain lions and bobcats. Oh yay, a family reunion. I snort as in my state of panic, I realize we're the hors-d'oeuvres, no need to bring an appetizer to this party. Then I get the aha moment. I run to Marty and James, holding out my hand. “Give me your receipts.”

  "Huh?" James' face is white as he watches the approaching monsters.

  "Give me your receipts from the rest area plaza. Now!" I hold out my hand as everyone looks at me strangely. James digs out his wallet and Marty takes a minute before he fishes his from his pocket. As James hands me over his receipts I start chucking the ones aside I don't need. “Come on, come on…" I scan them quickly until I find what I'm looking for. “Tickets! Coupon tickets for food. Dante doesn't eat in Heaven. He doesn't have to. It's always perfect there and hunger doesn't exist. Then, coming down here, technically, he hasn't eaten in centuries.”

  "It explains the hot dog cart," Damien mutters.

  I turn to Dante and thrust the food court coupons through the ticket booth window. It's our only hope. Dante reads the coupons thoroughly as Marty hands his over. I shove those through the window at him.

  "These will do.” He tucks the buy one get one free meal tickets for the food court into his robe, and before James and Marty can get out their, WTF's, I explain.

  "You can't just go to a store anymore without being handed back change, a receipt, and a few coupons to entice you to come again.” Everyone, except the pouncing Hellcats, nod in agreement. No arguing with the truth.

  Dante slaps a button on the machine and the doors beneath the massive Satan statue begin to light up. Cheesy carnival music supposed to invoke fear into the hearts and minds of the masses starts to play as the doors slowly begin to swing open, just as the first moose reaches the summit of the mountain. Damien is the first to intercept the creature, and it's like he engulfs the thing as he whips out his massive arms and grabs the charging moose by the antlers. It slams him into the side of the ride and the rusted metal creaks under the pressure of the two massive forms as they collide into it and each other. Time's up though. My clothes tear from my body as I feel my bones realign. I come out of the shift with fangs bared and claws sharp and ready. I pounce on the back of a half-masticated deer, probably one coyotes dug into, and I rake my claws down what remains of the spine.

  It cripples the animal, but I realize it only takes a few moments for the thing to get back up and start moving again. Reality isn't as convenient as the theater. There is no beheading and then the baddies are down and out for the count. Regenerative means regenerative, no matter what state the creature is in. I feel mildly better when I look over and see Doug and Dick have got their dog on. They look like a cross between Maine's master of Horror writing's rabid rover and those massive black Cane Corso mastiffs, but they aren't ebony like the King's canine or the Cane Corso's. They're both a blend of scarlet and crimson, and although their fur isn't live fire like mine and my girls, I have no doubt they could burst into flames if they wanted to. Both have gone for the throat of a massive, half skeletal black bear, the whole lot of good it will do, and I wonder briefly if a Hellhound takes something out, if it stays taken out, but after they tear into the throat of the bear and it goes down, I see it twitch and start to get back up.

  There is no winning this battle, no matter how much muscle and mojo we have. We don't have the numbers against a state, which is ninety percent wild forests. There’s a lot of dead animals the princes of Hell are calling to arms against us. I guess I figured the attack would have come sooner, and in less subtle ways than it had, but there appears to be the massive smack down.

  I turn my head to the side as a buck rakes its antlers along my side. It tears the flesh open, causing me to scream in rage and pain, and I can feel the blood gushing out, which causes a frenzy of bloodlust amongst the carnivores. I feel cool air hit my ribs, which means I've been gouged a lot deeper than I anticipated, and I limp a few paces back to the ride, trying to shield the vulnerable side. It won't kill me, but being shish kabobbed by an antler is one of the most painful experiences I have ever endured. My eyesight is hazy as I take in the battle going on around me.

  Leo is helping cover Tora, who looks more terrified kitty cat than massive prehistoric predator. Tabby's gone classic pounce and play with her food before taking it down and out, and Fae is releasing all her pent-up rage simmering just below the surface on a daily basis. They're holding out, which is good, but it won't be enough. Damien seems to be the only one who has a lasting effect on his foes. When he destroys them, they stay down longer than anyone else's enemies. The humans amongst us have crowded in the doorway of the ride, which is for the best.

  Lowell shoves Zeke into one of the cars of the ride while Marty and James cram into another card. They crouch down low, but after a few moments, Tabby takes a beak to the head from a rancid eagle and Marty hops out of the car and runs to her, shielding his face and head from above.

  Before I can intercept him and push him back to the cars, the old man goes head to head with a shaggy old bear. I scream in panic, which comes out sounding like a garbled roar over the din of the fight. The sounds of the animals aren't any less noisy than they would be if they were alive, and before anyone can get to him, Marty goes under, caught in the worst of the best kind of hug, a bear hug. It's too bad for him it's a demonic bear hug. I scramble through the crowd in a panic, trying to get
to him as Tabby realizes what has happened. I can't see Marty under the paws and claws of the bodies, and just as Tabby pounces on the bear’s back, I go for the throat, which isn't really there and makes biting into the flesh awkward. It was eaten out by scavengers long ago, so when my elongated teeth make contact, I taste the rancid meat of what remains of the bear on my tongue, and I feel the scrape of Tabby's fangs as they crunch down through the spinal cord of the bear. It's an unusual experience, French kissing one of my crew through the neck of a bear, and I back off immediately, spitting and hissing as I swipe a large paw at its head.

  The bear crumples and I search wildly around for any sign of Marty as I hear the enraged shrieks from Tabby. I can't find him anywhere and I have to abandon the search as much as my heart beginning breaking for the old man because a pack of foreboding looking squirrels begins charging the rollercoaster ride. I can see the look on Lowell's face as he searches the ground and the last thing I need is to lose another good one to this melee. I don't care what Damien says; Marty was a good one. I feel the hot angry tears, but they don't fall. I'm not sure I can cry as a cat. It doesn't matter regardless since crying isn't going to bring him back.

  I begin pushing my crew at the ride and I'm happy to see Phil still holding his own. The vermin aren't letting him get close enough in all of his shiny glory, so he's stealth attacking what he can when it isn't paying attention. My girls, with the exception of Tabby, get the idea, and they begin working their way back to the ride. There's no other way off this mountain and out of this fight unless we let the animals shred every last bit of us.

  Damien whistles to Charles, who has been carving out carcasses left and right. I haven't been entirely certain of the powers of an incubus, but he's proven himself useful because the dude can fly. It's making the attack from above a little less intense as he rips the skeletal wings from the birds in the sky. I feel my anger spike again as I consider the extent of what the princes of Hell have done. Seriously? Who does something like this? Isn't it bad enough there needs to be a pecking order when it comes to animals? I mean, I get their sense of humanity is a big fat nil, but there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed and using already dead animals to join the ranks of the demon army is a low blow.