Redemption of the Dead

by A. P. Fuchs

  The being’s light faded against the dark, Joe gone with it.

  “Joe . . .” she said, her voice a whisper.

  “Quiet.” Another strike and it felt like the chain had ripped right through her body clean to the other side.

  Wailing in pain, Billie rolled on the ground, begging to die. “Kill me. Kill me like you said. I can’t take it anymore. I just . . . can’t.”

  “As you wish.”

  A blast of violent electricity rocked her to the core, every muscle fibre lighting up in sheer agony. Her head went woozy and burning pain became her only consciousness. The hot stone ground beneath her burned and seared her flesh, crisping her skin and starting her aflame.

  Shaking, shrieking, wailing, she waited to die, her stomach forming spasming knots when she understood that she wasn’t going to die, but instead would stay in this state forever.

  In Hell.

  * * * *

  7

  Sleep

  It was hard to admit, but Joe was thankful he’d made amends with Tracy. The resolution even helped keep the chickpeas down and mute the unpleasant aftertaste. He lay on the couch in the living room, using a pillow from upstairs. He kept the pillowcase off just in case it was contaminated with something. Tracy was upstairs in the KISS bedroom, sleeping on the bed, no sheets, just a pillow without the pillowcase, same as him. He had suggested she sleep in the master bedroom, but she said she’d feel weird sleeping in someone else’s bed like that. He understood and would’ve done the same himself. Despite there being another bedroom upstairs, he opted for the couch to give her some space and privacy. They each also took a separate bathroom for the same reason, the water being out and all.

  As Joe lay there in the dark, he was overcome with a sense of awe, thinking how much his life had changed over the past year, how prior to the Rain there was no concept of what was going on. Life was supposed to just continue: him writing comics, keeping busy, watching TV, regular stuff. Not anymore and never again.

  He rolled onto his side and hoped Tracy was sleeping well. He knew he needed some shut-eye, too, as they’d be heading out tomorrow. If he woke up early enough, he’d go to April’s apartment building and see if she was still alive.

  * * * *

  Tracy eyed the stucco on the ceiling, its bumps and shadows playing with her imagination and making odd shapes, faces and animals. It’d been thoughtful of Joe to let her have some privacy. She just hoped the gesture wouldn’t go to waste and she’d actually get some sleep.

  They had decided that, aside from the incident in the basement, the house was secure. They were too tired to move on so would sleep until completely rested, then scour the house for possible supplies before heading out. Joe said he even saw a set of keys in the landing closet, but didn’t see a vehicle in the garage. There was still hope for transportation, though, as the keys could belong to one of the cars on the street, the owners having parked there instead.

  First order of business would be to get back to the Hub, and hopefully get there without running into any trouble. It’d be nice to be there again. It was there things made sense, the mission was clear, and Tracy felt at home. Out here, she was adrift without an anchor, able to go on her own for a while before needing to lock back in to something permanent.

  “Okay, enough. Go to sleep,” she told herself and closed her eyes. Good night, Joe.

  * * * *

  8

  Between Worlds

  Billie’s soul cried for reprieve, her body thrashing in agony as flame engulfed her head-to-toe. She couldn’t scream, her vocal chords having been burnt away, her mouth swollen shut, her skin melted . . . and yet she would not die, only stayed in a perpetual state of torment.

  The demons loomed over her, their pale gray eyes floating on the flames around her body. They cackled and howled, a profound sense they were celebrating victory not just over her here, but also over her life on the Earth as if they’d had some say in it.

  Please . . . please, make it stop, she shrieked inside her mind, her own inner scream mysteriously deafening to her own ears.

  The fire upon her grew hotter and she regretted even having been alive never mind regretted being here and, she began to understand, being here by her own choice, by her own crimes against a Perfect Law.

  Body lurching and jolting, she didn’t know how much more she could take, each agonizing second that passed a deadly reminder she’d have to take it, because there was no escape.

  Demons cackled.

  Fire roared.

  Her screams filled her head.

  “ENOUGH!”

  Brilliant white light cut through the flames surrounding her, confiscating her vision, the hot core of lightning all that she could see.

  Who’s that? Who’s there? The pain left her, the sudden bliss of reprieve immediately filling her with joy and gratitude, so much so she began to sob. Blinded by the light, she couldn’t see what was going on, but could hear the demons shrieking and the swishes of something sharp and hard cutting through the air.

  The sounds of evil soon subsided, and an instant later, powerful hands took her in close to a warm body, strong arms wrapping around her. A rush of wind blew past her from her head down to her toes and she knew she was flying.

  “Billie,” a voice said, tender, familiar, as she was set down on her feet.

  She hadn’t been flying, but this person had. “Nathaniel?”

  The white light faded and the angel stood before her. His golden robe was covered with elaborate folds, a gold belt around his waist. His silver shield was on his back, his silver blade in its sheath on his belt. They were surrounded by golden light, warm, loving.

  “What . . . who . . . did you . . .” She didn’t know what she was trying to ask but knew it had something to do with what just happened.

  “You are in between worlds. I saw you in the depths when I came for Joe. I’m sorry for leaving you, but I had to bring him to the surface first.”

  “Is he . . . is he dead?” Oh, please, no.

  “No,” Nathaniel said. “He had fallen through the earth that day at the bank.”

  “Fallen? What . . .”

  “It will all make sense soon.”

  She glanced at her feet and to her surprise she saw she wasn’t standing on anything despite the sensation she was. Below and all around was golden light, with streaks of yellow, orange and white beams dancing around them like electricity between conductors. “Am I dead?”

  Nathaniel’s expression grew soft as did his voice. “Yes.”

  “Was I really in—”

  Sorrow filled his face. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you didn’t take the Atonement provided.”

  She didn’t understand.

  “Christ died for you, Billie, but you never believed that. You never decided to give Him your sin in exchange for forgiveness. That was why you knew you deserved to be there. You knew you had broken the Law.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I didn’t.” Tears formed and leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Tears. She’d been told what to do to avoid damnation, but she hadn’t acted on it. Stunned, she touched her cheeks, felt the moisture of her tears and realized she was back to her old self. She was even using her bad arm to reach and touch her face. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me.”

  She smiled gently and glanced up. “Thank You.”

  Nathaniel smiled, too, proud.

  “Is it too late for me?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “I thought once you died, that was it. You’d be wherever you wound up forever?”

  “And this is true, but you didn’t fully comprehend the Message so you were spared. You were also shown what happened to Joe, how the demons saw him, how they followed us back to the surface and understood that the timeline had changed.”

  “That pocket watch you saw,” he said, “is God’s timer. It was left in my trust, my task to e
nsure its safety and come in every week to reset it.”

  “Why? Timer for what?” she asked.

  The angel’s face grew stern. “The Apocalypse.”

  “The—you don’t mean . . .?”

  “Yes, I do. The watch is perfectly timed with the intended true End Time, meant to be reset every seven days until I receive word I am to leave it be. Once the clock runs out, the Apocalypse begins, its seal on the doorway to Hell is lifted. The demons never knew where I hid it and try as they might over the years, I had always managed to evade them and come here to complete that which was commanded of me. Everything changed that day of the Storm, and I was tracked there, further, was interfered with.”

  “Not by them,” Billie said. “You said it was my fault because I caused you to miss the reset time.”

  “And you were used by them to distract me. You see, where you were and where you and I are in the golden light, we are outside of Time, eternal places where all occurrences are measured and encapsulated in a single moment instead of second by second, minute by minute.”

  “So you mean those demons can enter Time from the outside whenever they want, go into whatever Time they want?”

  “No. What occurs on Earth occurs and is over, lost to history. However, they are permitted to enter in the present as part of man’s free will, choices and temptations, items for another discussion. In the end, they found a new way to enter by means of a portal of their own design. There have been rumors over the centuries of these plans, but they have never come to fruition. The portal stirs up the Storm of Skulls and, it seems, projects a peculiar side effect: time travel to the past. You and your friends were caught in it. Because you were out of your own Time, that was why you couldn’t interact with anyone in the past, except that which was supernatural—me, them. I saw the helicopter outside and came in with the aim to finish my business with the watch first. Only then, after I saw you, and missed the reset time, did I realize what had happened and the distraction that had altered the course of future history. The seal—the watch—would have drawn them back, disabling the mass attack, but it needed to be activated right away, which it wasn’t and all had changed. There were events after you left, which you have yet to discover, that prohibited this.”

  “Okay, enough. My head hurts. I’ll just take your word for it.”

  “This was why one group of demons had to tell another, instead of they themselves emerging in a point of Time where they already were.”

  “I need a Tylenol.”

  Nathaniel touched her head with his fingertips. A flood of warmth filled her forehead.

  “Thanks,” she said, and also realized her eyesight had been restored despite not having her glasses.

  “You’re welcome, and I’m sorry if I confused you. I guess this sort of thing is natural to me so it’s hard to explain.”

  “And why doesn’t God step in and fix these things?”

  “What do you think He’s doing right now with you and me?”

  * * * *

  One year ago . . .

  The fiery lake roared as countless souls screamed from within, all pleading for a second chance and for mercy, but judgment was set and this was to be their eternal home, to be tormented day and night forever for transgressing the laws of Almighty God.

  Vingros sneered at the souls that dared approach the edge of the fiery pit and tried to climb out. Each one that did, he kicked back down, sending them tumbling to the depths of burning and pain.

  When he reached the two stone pillars that stood six feet apart at the lip of the lake, he spread his arms and placed two enormous hands against the serpents’ fangs etched on the rock. The ground rumbled and a six-foot-wide stone bridge rose out of the depths of fire and spanned across to the center of the lake. As he crossed it, he sneered and growled at the sea of human faces—now no more than skulls—as they peered up at him from out of the flame before a fireball would come and swiftly engulf them and drown them in fire again.

  The enormous throne of rocks and worms stood in the middle of the lake upon a small island, big enough for a ring of guard demons to surround it and cast down any who would dare to leave the fiery pit and approach, and a small platform on which to kneel at the throne’s feet. Vingros found his place and got on his knees.

  “Greetings, Master,” Vingros said. “I have great news.”

  The throne was clouded over in thick gray smoke, the one within concealed. It was said that when he did emerge, very rarely did he show his true form but instead remained as he was on the day he was cast from Heaven—white, golden and beautiful.

  The devil’s voice came from within the smoke, low and powerful. “Yes, Vingros, what is it?”

  “Bethrez has advised his portal is complete. I have overseen its movement to its proper location, and I have been assured that aside from one final inspection, it should operate as promised.”

  “It must, for time is running short. Do you have a precise timeline or are you merely here to dangle this before me in a foolish attempt to gain leverage or favor?”

  “No, Master, not at all. Based on my understanding, the word can now go out to gather the troops from all seven circles in whichever arrangement you wish. The portal will accommodate them all, I’m told.”

  “Excellent, and so I shall bring it to pass. Go your way, Vingros. Next we meet will be at the portal.”

  “Very good, Master.” Vingros stood, bowed, then turned and went back down the long rocky bridge across the lake. Once back on the main land, he touched the fangs on each of the pillars and the bridge sunk below the flames.

  Elation took him as he went to summon his messenger to take the news to the other circles. They would assemble en masse while Bethrez checked the portal one last time. From there, finally, the Earth would be theirs and their army would outnumber Heaven’s.

  * * * *

  9

  Loners

  Joe awoke with a crick in his neck, his head against the armrest.

  “What . . .?” he said and started feeling around for his pillow. He looked over the side of the couch and saw it had somehow gotten out from under him during the night and wound up on the floor.

  Groaning, he reached over, picked it up, and put it under his head. As he began to relax, the soothing release of discomfort on his neck began to take over.

  He sighed and whispered, “Awesome.”

  He guessed he had probably been asleep for five or six hours. It was enough. Even before the world went crazy, he struggled with getting a full night’s rest.

  Rolling his legs over the side of the couch, he sat up, took a moment to fully wake up, then hit the bathroom before double checking the kitchen for any food. Like last night, there was nothing.

  It was an invitation for trouble, but this thing with April had to be settled. It was getting to the point he’d be of no use to Tracy or even himself if he kept going through life with one eye looking back over his shoulder.

  Quietly, he went to the bedroom where she slept and gently opened the door so as not to wake her. She lay there in the bed on top of the mattress, her body twisted like an S, mouth open, eyes closed with seeming effort—exhausted.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “You’re going to hate me after this, but I got to go do something. Hope you read my note and do what it says. Hope you’ll understand, which I think you will.” He closed the door. “I hope.” Walking down the stairs, he added, “Good bye, Tracy.”

  Joe took the car keys from the landing closet and went out into the street, eyes peeled for the undead. He stood there pushing the unlock button on the keychain, listening intently for the ka-chunk of a door unlocking. He couldn’t hear anything no matter which way he faced or how high he held the keychain. The last resort was to try the panic button, something he didn’t want to do, but right now didn’t have a choice. He pressed it a couple of times to no result, but on the third the loud blare of a horn honking shook him and he fumbled with the keychain, turning it off. The flashing red lights of t
he car had been a few driveways over. Who knew why it was there. Careful any undead might have heard the noise and had come looking, he went to the dark gray SUV and used the key on the door. Once inside, he started the vehicle and was relieved to see a half tank of gas.

  After driving it over to the house, he went inside. Tracy was still sleeping. He wrote her a note, left the keys beside the piece of paper, then raided the kitchen drawers for cooking knives. He found two paring knives, a steak knife, a cleaver and a large meat tenderizer mallet. He left the cleaver and mallet by the note, and wove the remaining three knives through his belt, like needles through cloth, keeping them secure and within easy reach.

  Joe went out the door alone, facing the world of the undead like he had been in the beginning.

  * * * *

  Laying on her side, huddled up with her legs tucked by her chest, Tracy shivered and reached for the blanket. Finding none, she drifted off to sleep again only to come to some time later, still cold. She opened her eyes, checked the bed over, upset there was no quilt or cover or—

  There’s not supposed to be, she realized, coming back to the land of the waking.

  She stretched, yawned and closed her eyes a few moments before the chill became too much and she had to get out of bed to get some blood pumping. After using the bathroom, she went down to the living room to see if Joe was up. He wasn’t on the couch.

  “Joe?” she said, loud enough he should hear her even a couple of rooms away. “Hey, Joe?” Nothing but silence.

  Tracy checked the house, top floor to bottom, every room, even the basement and near the freezer. Joe wasn’t in the house. She went to the garage, thinking maybe he wanted some air but didn’t want to go all the way outside. The garage was empty, too. Rubbing her arms to keep warm as she walked, she looked out the windows to see if he was outside. He wasn’t, but she saw an SUV in the driveway.