by A. P. Fuchs
“He will come when he is ready and will claim dominion over those gathered to greet him. From there . . .”
“He’s gonna take over the whole planet,” Hank said. “He’s a bad boy. Very bad. I don’t know why he’s so bad but he is.”
“Iniquity was found in him long ago,” Nathaniel said, “and he caused a great war in Heaven. Him and a third of his brethren were cast out.”
“To Hell?” Billie asked.
“To the Earth.”
“What? Is this what this is, that casting out?”
“In a manner of speaking, but the downfall of Lucifer happened before the world began.”
It made zero sense. How could the devil be sent to the Earth before the Earth even was? This is the exact reason why I avoid religion, Billie thought, turning her attention back on the shore across the way. The undead stood in ranks even despite their usual disorientation.
“The Earth existed before the one you know,” the angel said.
“You’re still not making sense.” She bit her tongue, forgetting for a minute who she was talking to. “Sorry. I mean—”
“Do not be afraid, Billie. You can talk to me, you can be honest. I won’t harm you.” The gleam of his golden robe dimmed then morphed into a gray turtleneck and jeans. Nathaniel’s brilliant visage dimmed as well and he took on the features of a young man no more than thirty with dark brown hair and stubble across his cheeks.
His gleaming blue eyes drew Billie in, and she thought better of herself when her first inkling was to be attracted to him. He’s an angel for crying out loud! She cast her eyes downward.
“If I may,” Hank said, his voice suddenly taking on an attempted British accent that was both terrible and stupid. Billie cut him a break though. The poor guy, she gathered, couldn’t help it. “He already explained it to me, my lady. The gentleman had stated that after Lucifer’s rebellion there was a war that took place in both Heaven and Earth, one so devastating and destructive it caused this planet to essentially be a destroyed battleground. Once all was settled, the realms were split and the supernatural became that which was unseen, while the natural was renewed, and man was created and so forth.”
“You say well, Hank,” Nathaniel said, “and so it was long ago. Now, the enemy has come before his time to bring about his final confrontation with On High in a way outside the ordained events.”
“And if he does?” Billie asked.
“All will come to an end and, by proxy, God will seem overpowered in having what is written altered. This has been Lucifer’s aim since the beginning: to usurp the throne. We mustn’t let that happen.”
The ground shook beneath them. Billie lost her footing on the wide tree branch and would have nearly fallen off if Nathaniel hadn’t grabbed her and kept her and Hank’s feet firmly planted.
Trees snapped and fell over, rocks crumbled off the edge of the lake and tumbled to the water below. The undead across the way rocked on their feet and collapsed. The lake before them began to boil, its putrid steam a foul-smelling mix of rotten fish and sulfur.
“It’s time,” Nathaniel said.
* * * *
2
The Arrival
The lake bubbled, the gray of its waters growing darker with each passing moment. The bubbles on its surface grew larger until some were as a big as a basketball. The heat coming off the water reminded Billie of the intensity of a sauna.
With a roar of waves, the water shot upward in a wide and high spout, its apex towering over her and the others by what had to be around ten stories. She and Hank stepped back while Nathaniel remained still.
Atop the enormous tower of water burst forth a blast of white light, its presence crackling against the air like electricity. As the water slowly began to descend, so did the mysterious light with it until its brilliance sat upon the water, its violent bubbles of its boil beginning to subside. Amidst the light, the form of a man appeared, average height, average weight. Soon, the light began to dim, leaving the man standing on the water.
The undead on the shore watched him, but did not go near the water to get him.
The man wore black dress pants and shoes, a deep purple collared shirt, his hair—at least from the back—blond and neatly cropped.
Billie tried to inch forward to get a better look, but the moment her foot moved, a harsh tingle rushed to her core as a well of fear and unease burst forth inside her. She found herself anxious and breathing rapidly within seconds.
“Remain there, Billie,” Nathaniel said. “You, too, Hank. Neither of you want to be near his presence.”
“Oh, you don’t need to tell me twice, your angelness,” Hank said.
That’s what that rush of pronounced discomfort was, Billie thought. She shuddered.
The man on the lake walked across the water; in front of her, Billie saw Nathaniel shake his head slowly from side-to-side.
Is he afraid, too? she wondered.
Nathaniel turned and joined her and Hank.
“That was some waterworks,” Hank said. “Disney-quality, if you ask me.”
Billie didn’t comment; Nathaniel didn’t acknowledge him.
“Lucifer has arrived,” the angel said.
Talk about stating the obvious, Billie thought.
Nathaniel gave her a look that said he knew what she had thought, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
Billie looked past him. Across the lake, the moans of the dead filled the air as they greeted their master. They welcomed him as if they knew him, or at the very least recognized him.
“Does he know you’re here?” Billie asked Nathaniel.
“No. My presence has been well hidden. So far as he is aware, his arrival has gone unnoticed. He is no doubt basking in what he sees as a success. I, for one, cannot wait to take my sword to him.”
“He’s a bad seed,” Hank said. “True thing. Even the way he showed up is a complete mockery of God.”
“You’re a smart man, Hank,” Nathaniel said.
Hank’s face went flat. “You got that straight.”
Billie quickly raised and lowered her eyebrows: Yeah, right. To Nathaniel: “I don’t want to be up here anymore. I don’t want to be in this forest at all anymore either. Can you get us out of here?”
“I can, but that is not what we are called to do at this time.”
“So, what are we” —she made quotation marks with her fingers— “‘called’ to do?”
“Surveillance.”
“Spy stuff,” Hank said as if he was helping.
Though she knew the guy couldn’t help it, he was getting on her nerves.
On the other side of the lake, Lucifer had disappeared amongst the throng of the dead and was out of sight.
“Can he see us?” Billie asked.
“No. He is not omniscient,” Nathaniel said.
“Does he know we’re here? Um, Hank and me?”
“You have been concealed as well for the time being.”
“Time being? Great. Just great. So at some point whatever’s hiding us is going to be gone and he’s going to come after us.” She threw her hands in the air. Her words were choked with tears. “Nice. Go from watching my friend die to almost getting killed to seeing the devil come and knowing he’ll come after me eventually.” Her heart ached as she thought of August. Though she had known him for only a short time, he had been a mentor and a friend. Her mind drifted over to Des and what happened when they arrived back on the Richardson Building’s rooftop in the helicopter. Des, having been left behind prior to their leaving and entering the past, had come to greet them. Instead, he had somehow gone from human to shape-shifting zombie and tried to kill them. August shot him to save Joe’s life, but Des . . . the one on the rooftop wasn’t the one she’d known. He had been her friend when the undead rose. Together they exchanged info and ideas on how to survive. He’d been human.
Returning from that bizarre Storm of Skulls had created a new timeline where the undead—which turned out to be possessed so
uls, living and deceased—had not only developed the supernatural ability to shape shift, but some were also enormous and as tall as some buildings.
Billie shed a tear and wiped it from her eyes; she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned. “Nathaniel, I—”
But it wasn’t Nathaniel.
It was Hank. “It’s going to be okay. Nathaniel said as much. You got to trust him. He’s an angel, you know.”
“I know, but I think I’ve been through more than you have. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I just want to go home, you know?” Except she knew there wasn’t a home to return to. The Haven—the last reasonably safe place in Winnipeg—must be crawling with the undead by now. Besides, it wasn’t her Haven. That one was lost when the timeline shifted.
Billie looked past Hank down the length of the large branch holding them above the ground, hoping to see the angel.
He was gone.
* * * *
After keeping out a sharp eye for anyone—undead or otherwise—coming near the large pine tree, Joe was relieved when Tracy opened her eyes, stretched and groaned. He knew it was ill-advised to let someone fall asleep after a head injury, but he kept on the alert for any sign she’d stopped breathing or suddenly went still. Sleep healed the body. A fact of life.
“What time is it?” Tracy asked.
“Not sure. Close to dark, though. How’s your head?”
“Feels like I just ran into a brick wall, but I’ll manage.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Joe held up three.
“Five,” she said.
“Um . . .”
“Three.” She smirked.
At least she seems in good spirits. “We best get a move on when you’re ready. We’re not far from a multitude of possible hideouts. Just pick the safest-looking one and let’s roll.”
Tracy stretched her arms and legs once more before slowly getting to her feet. She briefly swooned once standing, but used the tree trunk for balance.
Out on the lawn, the cool night air made Joe shiver. Tracy felt it, too, he saw, because she hugged herself as she walked.
Without any weapons, he kept on extra alert. All they had on their side was the ability to run, but with Tracy in her condition, he didn’t know how far they’d get if it came to it.
The power was out in this area of the city, the details of each household difficult to see without walking up the driveway and taking a closer look. Joe quickly made up a mental checklist as to help speed up the process: houses with broken windows were not to be neared, neither ones with open doors; if the front looked okay, the back was approached with extreme caution, with the hope the back doors and-or windows were intact like the front’s; the house couldn’t be beside another with broken windows, whether just the one side or both; and the simplest one—if one of the creatures could be heard near or within the house, they would automatically move on until the sound ceased.
“It’s cold,” Tracy said. “Feels like the temperature suddenly dropped five degrees.”
“Don’t know how that’s possible considering the gray clouds have kept the weather in check since this all started. No heat. No rain or snow.”
“You don’t feel it?”
“No, but I’ve also trained myself to ignore small things like that.”
“It’s a shame,” she said. “I was trained to notice every single detail, whether internal or external. To survive, you must be prepared for all eventualities and be aware of what’s going on around you.”
“To each his own.”
“Her own.”
He smirked then tapped her on the arm. “How about this one?” He pointed to a bungalow up on the right. Though he’d have to get closer to be sure, the front windows and doors seemed to be intact.
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
“Stay behind me.” He led the way and verified his find by examining the entrances at the front. A wooden fence ran against the house off to the side, bordering the backyard beyond. Joe went up to the gate, Tracy right behind him. He undid the latch and let themselves in. He listened for any sound of the creatures, but heard nothing. Slowly, he and Tracy entered the yard and began to check over the house the moment a window came into view. There were two on the side along with a door to an attached garage, three windows on the back, and one on the furthest side. All seemed to be fine.
Joe approached the garage door and silently gripped the doorknob. With a gentle turn, he eased the knob over until it stopped moving, then, standing off to the side and ready to use the door as a shield if needed be, he opened it.
He listened for movement. Nothing. He slowly peered around the door to look into the garage. The single-car garage was dark and it was difficult to see anything at all.
“I don’t like this,” Tracy said.
“Me neither, but it has to be done.”
Joe moved into the doorframe and whistled. “Hello?”
No sound came from within.
“I think it’s all clear,” he said.
“Think? You think? No good, Joe. You and I both know not to take guesses.”
“Stop it. I haven’t made any final decisions. Was just telling you what I found.”
“Well, then make a decision because we can’t stay out here.”
“Okay, let me think.” He put his hands on his hips. It was too dangerous to chance it with this house without knowing what precisely was in the garage. Even if an undead had been in there but was killed and laid there truly deceased, there might be others in the area, or if—
A soft scraping sound came from below his field of vision. It sounded again, and when he looked down, a rotting hand was reaching for his ankle.
Joe jumped back, knocking into Tracy. She stumbled but regained her footing.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Joe stood there, watching as the creature pulled itself out of the shadows of the garage and across the doorframe toward them. When it pulled itself out, Joe saw its legs had been severed at the hips, dry and crusty strands of muscle and sinew dragging behind it. The creature opened its mouth as if to wheeze or hiss, but nothing came out.
“Let’s go!” Tracy shouted.
Joe slowly shook his head. “Not yet.” He glanced around the yard, looking for something he could use as a weapon and put an end to this thing on the ground. He did a quick jog around the back of the house, but came up empty. Then it hit him. He went up to the leafless oak tree, jumped up and yanked down on a branch that was about as thick as a D battery and as long as a baseball bat. After a couple jump-and-pulls, the branch snapped, the dry wood making a nice jagged break on one side of its shaft.
Joe adjusted his grip on the branch and moved quickly toward the zombie. The thing still kept crawling along the ground, every so often reaching out with its dead hand as if it thought it could grab him from that far away. Joe went right up to it, stomped on its hand, pinning it to the ground. The next instant, he drove the branch like a stake through the creature’s head. The zombie’s face slammed into the ground as gray brain and thick, black blood bubbled out of its skull. The creature stirred so he yanked out the stick then stabbed down beside the wound he just made, creating a new one which broke the rotting skull enough to completely crack off the side of it. Its brain slid out, as did tar-like blood and a few maggots.
“Okay,” he said, standing, “we can go now.”
* * * *
3
From Hidden Places
Nathaniel hadn’t returned in over an hour. If the gray clouds hadn’t continuously blanketed the sky, it would be near dark soon and time to pack it in. She didn’t want to stay here any longer, not with the devil somewhere across the lake. Billie was getting tired and stretched wide and big, letting go a long and loud yawn.
“Sure, let them hear you,” Hank said.
“Sorry,” she said and blinked the yawn-tears from her eyes. “I don’t want to stay up here much longer. Do you know why Nathaniel left?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know a lot of things, but I do know that everything happens for a reason, and I don’t mean that in a vague ‘oh, it’s all part of a master plan, but I’m not going to say who’s behind it’ way or whatever.”
Billie was surprised at how lucid Hank was at the moment. She didn’t know what was wrong with him, but this was the first time he was talking like an average person versus someone who was limited in their understanding of the world and had a hard time figuring things out. She just hoped he wasn’t in his “character” mode again.
“Do you know the reason for this?” she asked.
“Haven’t a clue.”
“You know, I’ve been part of this whole zombie thing from the beginning.”
“Haven’t we all.”
“I mean, aside from the Rain not harming me—and I still don’t know why that was—and trying to maintain a network of survivors for close to a year before hitting the road, I’ve really been in the thick of getting all involved with this weird, undead, supernatural stuff. I’ve lost friends, have almost been killed and eaten so many times I’ve lost count, have seen things that there’s zero explanation for” —she flashed back to the Storm of Skulls and the weird event in the past at a bank and Nathaniel’s first appearance, at first as an old man who had got a safety deposit box out to reset an old pocket watch, his seeing her, the craziness after— “I’m hoping it’s all going to end soon. I’m tired of feeling lost and always on the run.”
Hank just sat on the large branch, his legs hanging over the edge, hands in his lap, and didn’t say anything.
“It’s clear you met Nathaniel before,” she said. “Wanna tell me about it?” At least the story would help pass the time.
Hank didn’t respond.