Armageddon

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  Vilma noticed tiny gouts of flame appearing on Aaron’s golden armor, flames that seemed to be eating away the divine metal, and she looked at him with concern on her face.

  “I’ll be all right,” he said, forcing a smile.

  Gabriel whined pitifully.

  “I think this power,” Aaron touched his chest with a large, armored hand. “I think that this power is the key to that.” He again pointed toward the temple.

  “And it’s killing you,” Gabriel barked.

  Aaron didn’t argue with the dog; he just pulled himself taller, reaching out a trembling hand to lay it upon the faithful dog’s blocky head.

  Vilma wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him tight, but she knew that it wasn’t the time for such emotional displays.

  She needed to be strong for him, for all of them really.

  They all seemed to sense it at once, a strange tickling sensation that caused the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. Vilma spun toward the disturbance, a welcome distraction from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

  The Unforgiven reacted too, their guns aimed at the strange being that seemed to have stepped out of the air.

  Gabriel began to cautiously move toward the strange figure who stood before them, his body seemingly made of metal.

  “Gabriel, no,” Vilma said, but the dog did not listen.

  The Labrador tilted his head back, sniffing the air about the strange metal man. “Dusty?”

  The man turned his gray eyes to the dog, his mouth twitching in confirmation.

  Vilma lowered her sword, taking in the young man’s features.

  “Dusty, is that you?” Her mind raced with questions, but they were quickly forgotten as their friend’s stomach began to pulsate and bubble, somehow changing to liquid.

  Once more Vilma raised her sword, and the Unforgiven aimed their weapons.

  Something coated in a liquid metal fell from Dusty’s core. It was small, childlike, and the figure writhed on the ground before finally climbing to its feet.

  The metal fluid flowed off the child, returning to Dusty.

  They were stunned. The little boy spat liquid metal on the ground, brushing away residue from his bare arms.

  “Well, that was disgusting,” he said in a voice far more mature than that of a four-year-old.

  Gabriel approached the child, giving him a careful sniff.

  “Oh dear,” the child said, rearing back. “Good doggy.” He was obviously afraid. “That’s it, be off.” He shooed the dog away with his hands.

  “Who . . . ?” Vilma began, stunned by this latest bit of insanity. “Where . . . ?”

  The child carefully walked around Gabriel, not wanting to get too close, and approached the Metatron.

  “I’m Enoch,” the child said. He then looked past Aaron, to the Beth-El temple in the distance.

  Vilma gasped as Aaron dropped weakly to his knees before the child.

  Enoch stood eye to eye with him then.

  “I think I can help,” the child said, leaning in close, looking deep into Aaron’s eyes. “The power that’s killing you belongs to me.”

  * * *

  Lucifer kept the abominable legions at bay, flying above their heads in a grandiose display.

  He circled their diminished number, though there were still quite a few that had managed to survive. Lucifer could see the fear in their eyes as they watched him. None of the beasts wanted to offend their Dark Master in any way.

  The ancient evil shrieked and wailed inside him.

  “Scream all you like, loathsome thing,” Lucifer said. “You are my prisoner now.”

  This just made the evil fight all the harder, but Lucifer endured, using the love that he’d experienced at seeing Taylor Corbet again as his source of inspiration.

  But would it be enough?

  It was as if the evil could sense his doubt, slithering its shadowy form about his brain.

  “I can feel your reserves weakening, Son of the Morning,” the evil cooed. “It is only a matter of time before I usurp control once more, and your body belongs to me.”

  Lucifer tried to ignore the taunting voice.

  “You doubt me?” asked the evil.

  Lucifer suddenly experienced the most blinding pain. He dropped from the air like a stone. Landing in a heap, he lay still, hoping the effects would pass.

  “What a sight you must be to them,” the evil commented. “Their great and powerful leader falling from the sky.”

  Lucifer picked himself up from the ground, as the monsters circled him.

  The fear in his legion’s eyes had been replaced by something else.

  Caution, perhaps, as they sensed weakness.

  The voice of the evil grew stronger, louder, and no matter how hard Lucifer tried, he could not block it out.

  “They can smell your fear,” the evil purred. “You’re not the threat you were when I was in control.”

  Lucifer spread his wings of black feathers, and the mob leaped back. Slowly, though, they began to converge on him once more.

  Something amongst the rabble became brave. A thick tentacle lashed out, whiplike, wrapping around Lucifer’s ankle as he tried to ascend, dragging him back to the earth. Landing amongst them, Lucifer conjured a sword of fire and, brandishing it before him, drove the monstrous masses back.

  There was suddenly a painful spasm in his hand, and the sword dropped from Lucifer’s grasp. It disappeared in a flash before it could even touch the ground.

  “Damn you,” Lucifer hissed, creating another blade, but the monsters had already started to surge.

  “You’re far too weak for this,” the evil taunted. “All that time locked away within the recesses of your mind has dulled your strength.”

  The monsters were atop him now, each desperate for a piece of him. He could feel their claws, tentacles, and teeth frantically attempting to tear him to bits.

  So much for loyalty, Lucifer thought, so the evil would hear.

  “Loyalty comes from the fear of death,” the evil explained. “And you’re too pathetic right now to be much of a threat to anyone, but any moment now, when your resolve weakens, I’ll show them what death is all about—

  And then it will be Heaven’s turn.”

  Satan’s words were so fearsome and vile that Lucifer made a most fateful decision.

  “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” the evil spoke. “Succumb to me, admit your defeat, and I’ll allow you to exist as one of my distant memories.”

  The monsters ripped off pieces of Lucifer’s armor, and tore at the flesh beneath. There were so many of them. . . .

  “You’re right,” Lucifer said. “I’ve let this go on for far too long.”

  He could feel Satan’s joy inside his head. It felt like millions of maggots hatching within a piece of rotting meat and squirming to the surface.

  “I fear you and your potential far more.”

  Lucifer sensed the ancient evil’s confusion, which was exactly what he needed. In his mind, he saw the restraints that locked his penance away, a heavy wooden door with chains draped across it.

  And standing before that door was the tiniest of sentries with the soul of the most ferocious of lions.

  “Hello, Milton,” Lucifer said to the mouse. “I’m afraid we’re going to need to let it out.”

  His little friend obediently scampered away from the door as the chains began to disintegrate, large metal links falling to the floor of Lucifer’s subconscious.

  “What are you doing?” the evil demanded, attempting to inflict all manner of psychic pain upon him, but it was nothing in comparison to the pain Lucifer felt at what he was about to do.

  “I’m taking care of you for good,” Lucifer explained, waiting before the door, which now trembled and shook, the wood cracking loudly as it was savagely pushed upon from the other side.

  “You wouldn’t,” the evil proclaimed.

  “I would,” Lucifer replied.

  The psychic m
anifestation of the door exploded outward, and the sinister emotions and sensations that had taken on a life of their own over the ages rushed into Lucifer’s being, filling him with the awfulness of their power.

  The strength of Hell was now his. Lucifer surged up from the great mound of beasts that tried to claim him, the force his body emitted tossing them miles, reducing their bones to paste.

  The monster legions feared him again and fled his wrath, but he would not let them go far.

  Lucifer took to the air once more, the power of Hell radiating from his body. He let the dreadfulness flow from his being like some awful pheromone.

  The monsters stopped running and gazed up at him. Like bees attracted to the scent of pollen, the nightmares were drawn to the desolation he exuded.

  Satan came to the fearful resolution that its own power was dwarfed by the magnitude of what Lucifer had unleashed.

  As much as Lucifer loathed it, this was his curse and he was its master, and it filled him with a terrible strength.

  Lucifer could feel it already working upon him, Hell eager to spread out to the waiting world. If this dreadful power was to be unleashed, it must be set loose where it could do the least amount of harm.

  And the world of man was not such a place.

  Satan cowered at Hell’s fury, now in Lucifer’s control. The ancient evil attempted to retreat, deep into the Morningstar’s subconscious, but Lucifer would not allow it.

  “You’ll stay right here with me,” the Son of the Morning said. “Where I can keep an eye on you.”

  The Darkstar struggled, but even Satan was no match against Hell’s might.

  Flapping his wings, the Morningstar hovered, waiting for the swarm of monstrosities to catch up to him. He focused his attention on the blighted land, fixating upon the large, jagged scar that Aaron’s struggle with the Darkstar had left in the earth.

  Would it be deep enough?

  The dark miasma leaking from Lucifer’s being drew the nightmare throng ever closer. They could taste it on the wind, and were drunk with its promise of misery and sadness.

  And all the while Lucifer remembered what he had done to earn such a burden, experiencing it all again as if existing in the moment.

  This horrible thing was his, and his alone, but he was its master.

  To think this was a power that the Darkstar had hoped to control. The notion was so ridiculous it made the Son of the Morning sadly smile.

  Spreading his arms, Lucifer welcomed the swarm of beasts.

  “Come to me,” he proclaimed. “I am your lord and master.”

  Legions of nightmare extended as far as the eye could see, and Lucifer hoped that his control over them would reach that far.

  “I do this for you,” Lucifer whispered upon the gentle desert wind, hoping for his words to be carried to his lover’s ear, but knowing that they never would.

  As monsters basked in the hellish poison Lucifer exuded, he then addressed his followers.

  “This world,” he proclaimed. “It is not a place for the likes of you.”

  The monsters chattered, screamed, screeched, and howled in their agreement, held under his spell.

  “Here!” Lucifer announced. He pointed to the open gash in the crust of the earth. “Here is a place better suited to your like!”

  The throng responded, their bodies flowing toward the fissure and tumbling into the abyss.

  “That’s it!” Lucifer cried. “Down into the hole we go.”

  He flapped his wings, launching himself skyward, and then angled his body down, creating a sword of fire in his hand as he plunged into the chasm.

  “A Hell of our own making awaits us!”

  Wave after wave of monsters followed.

  Following their lord and master down into darkness.

  * * *

  Slowly, Lorelei pulled her corporeal self back together.

  In hindsight, releasing the soul energies of thousands probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but at that point, she really couldn’t think of any better solution.

  There were still spirits around her, but their number had lessened dramatically. She hoped that their sacrifice had not been made in vain.

  Her vision cleared as she looked at the Architects’ headquarters, brought down by the power of the recently dead. It was far larger than she could ever have imagined, a seashell-shaped aircraft carrier broken and buried in the sand.

  It was all about saving the child, and she’d tried to convey that to the spirits that had lingered about her: that without him, they were likely lost. It was good that they trusted her, giving her their confidence, as well as their soul energies.

  Looking at the extent of damage to the mighty craft, she was surprised at the level of power that had been released. Drifting closer, she began to worry that perhaps the child had not survived the crash, but remembered something that she had seen, appearing in the air behind the little boy, just as she had released the soul energies to stop the Architect.

  Lorelei smiled with the memory. Don’t ask her how she knew, but she believed the child was fine, and that Dusty somehow had something to do with it.

  She had been drifting closer and closer to the craft, when she noticed the extent of the bodies that littered the ground. There were monstrous bodies everywhere, as well as those strange, metal-winged beings that she’d seen at the shopping center when she’d found Jeremy.

  It looked as though the Architects’ craft had dropped upon some kind of battleground.

  Her beliefs were confirmed with a shriek of violence as horrible figures emerged from the clouds of black smoke still billowing from the body of the craft, wielding blood-caked swords and knives, attacking an even smaller group of the metal-winged angelic beings, who looked as though they had seen better days.

  She was considering helping them somehow, when there came a tremendous explosion from the seashell-shaped craft. An entire section of pearl-white wall blew open with a fiery gout, the blast so great that it actually scattered the monsters that had been on the attack.

  Lorelei, along with the metal-winged angels, stood transfixed before the huge craft, as two shapes locked in furious battle exploded out along with the fire and smoke.

  It took a moment to figure out, but at closer inspection she saw that it was Jeremy . . . Jeremy and Verchiel, still joined in battle as they had been before the Architects’ home had been knocked from the sky.

  Weapons of divine fire hissed and sparked as they struck one another while the two angels continued their struggle, lost in the midst of a battle frenzy. From the looks of their surroundings, she realized that maybe their battle prowess could be better served inflicting damage upon the enemy, rather than each other, and floated across the desert toward them to try and come up with a way to break them up.

  Verchiel smashed the fiery pommel of his sword into Jeremy’s face, bloodying his nose and knocking him back. She could see by the horrible looks in their eyes that they were functioning now on a barely human level. It was all about the battle now, and destroying one’s enemy.

  The swarm of goblins came out of nowhere, attacking the angels en masse with their blood-caked weaponry.

  Jeremy and Verchiel barely gave them a second thought, until one of the wretched beasts thrust his spear into Verchiel’s side.

  Lorelei figured that this was certainly a way to get their attention.

  Verchiel stopped the progress of his sword in mid-arc, suddenly looking to his left at the ugly beast that bared its ragged teeth at him and pushed on the point of the spear.

  Verchiel looked quickly back to Jeremy, and some sort of message seemed to pass between them, something to the effect of, Let us kill these things first, and then we can get back to killing each other.

  She thought that she’d hit the nail on the head, because the two then attacked the goblins with the same level of fury that they’d had toward each other.

  The bald, metal-winged angels had joined the fray as well, as even more monster soldiers appea
red on the battlefield, despite the presence of the huge seashell lying in their midst.

  She kept her eyes on Jeremy and Verchiel; the two actually appeared to be playing nice at the moment, decimating a squadron of goblin warriors. They were fighting close to the body of the Architects’ base when there was another explosion, a blast so great that it shredded the monsters that were close by and sent the two warrior angels tumbling through the air like leaves.

  Lorelei knew at once that this was trouble, and went through the motions of sucking in a gasp of air, even though she no longer breathed, as the Architect emerged from his downed craft. Energies that she knew to have a divine origin crackled about his hands as his hooded form stepped out upon the sand.

  Sensing immediate danger, Lorelei cried out to Verchiel and Jeremy, and they seemed to hear, even though she knew that this was impossible, as they rose up from the ground, weapons poised to strike as they leaped at their newly appeared foe.

  The Architect barely gave them a second glance, swatting one aside, and then the other. They lay very still upon the ground.

  Lorelei watched in growing horror as the Architect marched away from the wreckage of his home onto the battlefield with what appeared to be a specific purpose.

  Even though a ghost, a churning of great fear roiled in her spectral belly, for she believed she knew where the villain was going.

  And for who.

  * * *

  Gabriel looked at Aaron and felt his heart near to breaking.

  “Will he be all right?” the dog asked.

  The child touched Aaron’s face with a small, dirty hand, continuing to look deeply into his eyes.

  “I’m not sure,” Enoch answered. “That damage might have been done.”

  “Why is it hurting him?” Gabriel wanted to know.

  The child looked at him, a tinge of annoyance evident in his petulant stare.

  “You ask an awful lot of questions for a dog,” the child said. “I haven’t encountered many dogs in my brief existence, but do all your kind act this way? Can’t imagine why anybody would want to own one.”

  “I’m different,” Gabriel explained. “Aaron made me different.”

  “Hooray for us,” Enoch mocked with a roll of his eyes.