by John Corwin
"Thanks, man," Kyle said, slapping Mike on the back.
I smiled at Chris then turned away to hide my misty eyes. "Let's go then."
We shifted into Heavenly. I saw the Playground. It looked abandoned. The usual din of laughing children was gone. Storm clouds hung in the usually clear sky. In the distance, I saw a sight that took my breath away. Ms. Tate's church had mutated into a gothic monstrosity that dominated the skyline. It looked like the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, Spain times a hundred. Atop the church was the gargantuan statue of an angel with four arms. A Shaval.
Chapter 26
Kyle's eyes widened. "Holy cow."
"Holy crap," Mike said.
I stared with numb horror wondering how anyone could have erected such a massive structure. Four figures detached themselves from the base of the statue and winged their way toward us.
"What are they?" I asked, pointing. I focused my vision and zoomed in, something I'd picked up from my time in Diana. The Shaval had remarkable eyesight, even better than the Rrilk.
Four people rode upon horses with wings. But these creatures weren't related to Pegasus. Their flesh was sunken and the bones showed through. One horse was pale white, the others red, black and green, respectively. The people on the horses wore hooded cloaks which flapped dramatically as they streaked toward us.
"I don't like this," Mike said. "Maybe we should flit."
"Wait," I said. "Maybe they can tell us what's going on."
Kyle snorted. "I think they're part of what's going on, dude."
"Are they supposed to be the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?" Chris asked.
The four horsemen landed. The one on the white horse threw back the hood. The head of a young girl with deep green eyes and red hair appeared. The other horsemen did the same revealing two young men and another girl. Technically, I guess they were the Four Horsepersons of the Apocalypse with the two girls and all. The presentation reeked of Ms. Tate's melodramatic flourish.
"Lucy Morgan, you've returned," the girl said. "I am Anna, servant to God and his Church of the Apocalypse. You have many crimes to answer for."
"Crimes?" I asked. "Are you kidding me? Did you people totally flip your lids while I was gone?"
"Shut your mouth, sinner," the boy on the green horse said.
"Why don't you try to make her?" Kyle said. "If you can get through me, that is."
Chris and Mike stepped up next to me.
"I'm not here to deal with weirdoes," I said. "I want to know where my parents are."
"They await you in the church," Anna said, beckoning to the looming structure that had probably been stolen from the set of a gothic horror film.
"How 'bout you bring them out here," I said.
"They are held fast by the God Hand. You will come with us and appear before God's tribunal to answer for your crimes and then you will see your parents."
Let's flit to the church, I said to Kyle and the others without speaking the words aloud. Be ready. "Where in the church are they?" I asked Anna.
"You'll see soon enough." She flicked her wrist.
The flesh on my neck prickled. Flit! Kyle and the others vanished. Teeth clamped down on my shoulders a split second before I could do the same. Three more monstrous jaws clamped teeth on empty air where the others had been. I gasped and tried to push the pain away but it was different than the physical pain most ghosts could will away. Something had changed in Heavenly. Something fundamental. And now these lunatics had me.
Dog slobber stained my shirt. I wriggled like a worm in a bird's beak. The massive hound growled. Its companions snarled, teeth bared as they circled me. They were huge, big as ponies but without the cuteness factor. They looked like some lunatic had crossed a Rottweiler with, well, a really big dog. My captor's teeth held my shoulder firmly but not hard enough to break the skin. I wondered what would happen if it clamped harder. Could it maim me? Kill me? I remembered the early days of Heavenly. People didn't really get hurt or bleed. I'd seen kids beat the hell out of each other as they played superhero games. But maybe I'd missed something or maybe something had changed here in my absence. I cursed myself for not taking more of an interest in those things. I'd been too self absorbed in my own pity party, not to mention Nick.
Boys. Nothing but trouble.
At least Kyle and the others had escaped. Maybe they could help me out.
The boy on the green horse looked where my friends had been and cursed.
"Jesus wouldn't like that," I said, trying to keep a groan of pain from my voice.
"Should we pursue them?" he asked Anna.
"No, Latham, we don't have traces on any of them. Besides, we have the one the God Hand wishes to see."
"What about the God foot?" I said. "Or the God pinky finger?"
Latham hopped off his horse, an evil grin spreading across his face. He walked to me. Put a hand on my free shoulder. Punched me right in the face. Stars danced in my vision and my head lolled. Something trickled down my lip. I tasted it. Blood.
"Wha--what the hell is going on here? How am I bleeding?" My voice sounded far away and unsteady.
"This is our new Earth, you idiot," Latham said, grabbing my chin in his hand. "And God is guiding us in making it our paradise." His grip tightened and I felt him merge with me. I tried to scream. I tried to stop him. But I was too disoriented. I did the only thing I could do. I retreated inside and threw up walls. I hid in the darkness of my mind.
I huddled there in the pitch black, miserable and crying.
"Hi, Lucy."
I jumped. A single street lamp phased into existence, glowing dimly in the gloom.
"Who's there?" I asked.
Anil stepped into the light, a smile on his face. "I'm sorry it came to this."
Sorrow constricted my throat. "Came to what? You're gone. I'm hurt, bleeding, and in the hands of religious lunatics. I'm apparently seeing things in my own head which isn't good either."
"You've retreated into your mind. I implanted this memory here to help you out in case things got really bad one day."
"Okay, things are really bad. Help." I wasn't sure whether this was my own imagination playing tricks on me or if Anil had really hidden something in my mind during one of our merges.
"I found some memories I thought it best not to tell you about." He sat cross-legged on the black floor and looked up at me. "But since you're here, I might as well spill the beans."
"Did a preacher touch me when I was little or something?"
He smiled grimly. "You were one of the original infected the Shaval used to end human life on Earth."
"No way. That's not even funny."
"I know, but it's true." A film screen lowered to the left of us. Gritty footage flickered on it. Tiny feet in tiny red shoes ran upon green grass. The camera shifted up and trees came into focus. A black Labrador bounded into the woods.
"Licks!" I said. He was my first dog. He licked everything. Then again, I think most dogs do. But I was young and not very good at coming up with original names. Considering my next dog's name was Bites, maybe I never improved my naming abilities. If I'd lived to have a kid I might have named him Drools. At least my names were descriptive.
The view chased the dog into the woods. A flash of silver caught the camera's attention. It closed in on the object. A tiny silver cylinder protruded from a tree about eye level with the camera. "Is this my memory? I don't remember this."
"You wouldn't."
On the screen, my hand reached for the cylinder. I grabbed it, screamed, and dropped it. I looked at my hand. A tiny drop of blood blossomed from the wound in my palm. The cylinder buzzed and disintegrated in a puff of white light. I fell into the leaves. Licks licked my face and the screen went black.
"That wasn't me," I said. "That never happened."
"Your young mind covered it up, blanked it out. Perhaps the virus blanked part of your memory too."
"Why me? That's preposterous that I would be chosen out of billions of people
."
"You weren't chosen," I don't think. "You were a random person who found a cylinder."
"Why tell me this now? I thought you were here to help me out of a jam. Now you're giving me a guilt trip about killing off the human race."
"I'm showing you there's far more hidden in your mind than you think. There is also more potential than you dreamed." Anil steepled his fingers under his chin. "You always had problems creating things in Heavenly because you don't believe in yourself."
"Thanks for the heads-up, Dear Abby. It's hard to believe in myself when I keep failing. And it seems I failed hard as a kid, helping to kill off the human race and all."
"You fail because you don't believe that anything is possible."
"Or maybe I suck."
"You let your mind rule your reality instead of you ruling your mind."
"Are you reading this stuff out of a Dr. Phil book?"
"If a cat can make feathers, you can make mountains. If someone thinks you can bleed, you will bleed."
"I'm bleeding all right."
"Our spirits were freed from their bodies, but we have not freed our minds."
"Okay, enough already. I get the picture. I can read fortune cookies like anyone else."
Anil smiled and faded away.
"Wait!" I shouted. "I didn't mean leave." I looked around, fear once again clawing its way up my throat. "Anil, come back. Give me the picture-book version instructions and I can do it." The dark remained silent.
Great. Not only does my dead mentor tell me that I fail hard at controlling my mind, but he tells me that I infected millions of people with an alien virus and thus brought about the end of the world. And now I was trying to save it, "trying" being the operative word, since at this moment I was closer to the fail end of the trying spectrum.
And why did I get the needle in the hand treatment from the aliens when Nick got a flashbulb in the face? Death just wasn't fair, damn it. I groaned. I deserved a nice big hunk of cheese to go with my whine. Oh well.
Time to get to work.
I sat down and closed my eyes, then pushed out of my hiding place. When I reached the first wall I'd thrown up, I lowered it, bracing myself for a flood of attacks. Nothing came. I probed outward but Latham wasn't in my mind anymore. I reached out and tapped into my ears.
"I mind-locked her," Latham said. "She won't come out until I say she can." His voice was smug, cocky.
"Don't wreck her," Anna said. "The God Hand wants her intact for conversion."
I returned fully to my senses and peeked through an eye. I saw a butt. It was Latham's. He'd tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Apparently he'd removed his robe. His black leather boots clomped over a gray stone floor. We were inside the church. We passed through a doorway and their footsteps echoed in a cavernous chamber. He set me down on a chair.
"Wake her," a familiar voiced commanded.
Latham touched me but this time I was ready. I observed his clumsy efforts as he entered my mind like a drunk stumbling home with cheap lipstick on his shirt collar. He hardly knew what he was doing, but it was enough to probably knock most people out if they didn't know how to counter it. If you ram your head into someone else's hard enough, you might knock them out first. That was his approach.
I blocked his efforts and trickled into his mind. Finding consciousness triggers wasn't too hard, but every individual was different. It was more about stream of consciousness than anything physical even though our spiritual forms mimicked our dead physical bodies in pretty much every way. I found his speech to consciousness link and his sight to consciousness link and walled them both off. There were more but they'd take a while to find, and these would hold him for a while.
He gasped and fell back. I gasped and woke up, acting like he'd succeeded brilliantly and wasn't just now blind, mute, and floundering in panic.
"Where am I?" I said as Latham fell over a chair, his mouth wide in a silent scream.
Anna grabbed Latham. "What's wrong?"
He tried to answer but couldn't muster even a whisper.
"Messing with the mind is tricky," I said and smiled sweetly.
Anna growled. "You sinful whore."
"Quiet child," Ms. Tate said, appearing from a doorway. She wore a long white dress with a choker collar. Frills and lace adorned every free seam. It looked like the redneck version of a Victorian-era dress.
"Kentucky called," I said. "They want their dress back."
"Too smart for your own good, child," Ms. Tate said, grasping a golden rod with a cross atop it. "You are interfering in God's business, in the re-creation of the Earth for the new millennium."
"Little ol' me?" I said, blinking innocently. I bared my teeth. "You have my parents. I want them back."
"Tut-tut. Things have changed since I last saw you, child." The cross atop the rod glowed white. "I have been given the power to shepherd God's people into the new world. Those who go against him are to be cleansed by his wrath."
"Someone missed the first day of band camp," I said. "Little kids can make things light up too. You don't scare me."
A jagged beam of light lanced from the cross. It struck me in the chest and sent me flying. A stone wall mercifully stopped my flight. I hit the floor gasping. A thin wisp of smoke drifted from the burnt fabric on the front of my dress. I smelled burnt flesh and knew it was my own. Agonizing pain erupted and I screamed.
How was this possible?
"You are interfering with God's plan. His angels have come to put His Plan into action. Repent and desist, child or I will end you in God's holy fire this instant."
"This is impossible," I groaned. "You can't hurt people in Heavenly."
"Belief is a powerful ally. I believe and God makes me strong."
I dragged myself behind an ornate wooden couch.
"Let me end her, please," Anna said. "She has put her witchcraft upon Latham."
"Is it God's will to pervert the minds of kids and make them sound like idiots from the Dark Ages?" I asked. "Witchcraft? Are you kidding me?" I groaned and my eyes watered in pain.
"This is my God-given duty, dear one," Ms. Tate said to Anna. "I must complete it. God will reward us all if we convert rather than end her."
"But the corrupt ones weaken us," Anna said.
"They do, and that is why they must go. But the believers strengthen our cause."
Something tugged at my mind. I answered. It was Kyle, thank the stars. I intentionally avoided thanking God for that one.
My God, you're hurt, Kyle said.
I'd appreciate it if you didn't use his name around me right now. He's kicking my ass.
God?
No, but his bitch is.
How? It's impossible to hurt ghosts.
Tell that to the smoking crater on my chest.
Flit to us. We'll get out of here.
I need my parents.
You'll need a grave if you don't leave now.
I sighed and groaned at the same time as my chest ached. He was right. I couldn't fight something I didn't understand. Ms. Tate would hold my parents hostage until I was either dead or on her side but at least they were alive. More pressing matters needed tending to. I willed myself to Kyle.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
"There's no escape, child. You can't flit from within the church."
I almost shouted that it was impossible, but so far she'd won those arguments today. I heard her approaching, the golden staff clinking heavy upon the stone floor. I might not be able to flit, but I could still fly. I hovered a few inches off the floor and jetted away.
Huge corridors intersected in a grid-like fashion. I turned left and got nowhere fast. The place was a huge maze. I saw signs for Sunday school designated by age and gender; I saw singles classes and married classes also divided by gender. Most of the rooms were full of people. Some of the attendees turned to stare blankly at me as I drifted past leaving a trail of smoke and the odo
r of burnt cotton and flesh.
A few people wandered the halls. I stopped a nerdy-looking man with buck teeth and horn-rimmed glasses. Why he hadn't fixed that yet I didn't know. "Help me," I said. "Which way is out of here?"
"You want to leave the house of the Lord?" He stared at the front of my crispy dress. "You bear the wrath of the God Hand. You've been bad." He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Sinner on the loose!" He grabbed me.
I screamed as his arms closed over my burns. "You idiot." I kicked him and sent him sprawling. The effort cost me another dose of horrific pain.
Damn what I wouldn't give for super powers right about now.
The classrooms started emptying out. The halls filled with people. I flew higher until I was almost touching the vaulted ceiling dozens of feet above their heads. Hands reached from the throng below. People flew up to meet me. I dodged them but there were too many of them. Super powers would be really, really great right about now.
Wait a minute. I was flying. Didn't that count as a super power?
I zipped left into a featureless corridor. It was empty of people and doors although large iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling just like the rest of the corridors. It didn't go anywhere except a stone wall with a huge painting of Christ nailed to the Cross on it.
I spun around. The corridor behind me swarmed with worshippers on the ground and in the air. I had a feeling I was in for a painful conversion.
Chapter 27
A stone wall to my back and the Sunday school group from Hell to my front. Not a great way to go down kicking and screaming. The burns on my chest raged for relief. If one of the zombies for Christ offered me some aloe vera in exchange for my soul, I probably would have given it to them at that moment.
I had to do something. I concentrated, picturing a wall between me and the mob. A lump grew from the ground until it was about a foot tall, shuddered, and stopped. People spilled over it and tripped over each other. Funny to watch on any other occasion, but really, really sad right now. I was such a failure. I needed a wall, an invisible barrier, a raging fire, anything. Even a freaking feather would be saying something.