Redemption of the Dead

by A. P. Fuchs

  Coughing, Billie rolled on her side, reached her hand out toward Sven. “St—stop . . .”

  He struck Bastian again.

  “Stop . . . Sven . . . stop . . .”

  Panting and sweating, Sven finally let up, leaving his brother rolling beneath him, moaning with his hands to his face. Sven looked at her with sad eyes, then got up and went to the other side of the room.

  Billie lay on the ground, catching her breath. Oh God, have mercy. She managed to slow her breathing enough so she could get up and start pacing, walking off some of the dizziness and sore limbs. Her nose still hurt like all get out and for a brief second she wanted a mirror to check it, then was quickly thankful there was none.

  The room went dark; the glowing symbols on the wall increased their brightness. Soon the haunting colors of red and orange filled the room, reminding her of a photo lab. The voices resumed their chant on the air. The strong, disturbing power of evil dripped off the walls, causing her to shudder without meaning to.

  It wasn’t over.

  * * * *

  20

  Honesty

  The trek back to the safe house had only grown busy every twenty minutes or so, with a pack of the undead emerging from behind corners and back lots. Joe, Tracy and Felix took them down with ease, and despite her bumps with Felix in the past, Tracy noticed the three of them had a certain chemistry that seemed to work when taking on the undead.

  Now below ground in the safe house, Felix went back to his book, leaving Joe and Tracy alone by the kitchenette. As Joe fixed himself something to eat—more than once saying how hungry he was and even a lame joke about there better not be any chickpeas around—Tracy simply watched him, wondering what their next move was, both professionally and personally.

  Joe pieced together a small meal of canned corn, tuna and a pack of Ramen noodles, which he didn’t bother adding water to but instead simply sprinkled the seasoning on—chicken—and ate them like a bag of chips. He washed it down with a glass of water.

  The two sat on opposite sides of the table, Tracy eyeing him with squinted eyes, already upset at him for being so preoccupied with his food that it served him as a good excuse to not immediately start talking. Joe kept his eyes to his plate, shoveling the food into his mouth then seemingly to consciously slow down as if trying to prolong his meal.

  Just. Eat. The. Stupid. Food, Tracy thought, trying to project her thoughts across the table into Joe’s head.

  He just ate and drank, her “telepathic powers” not making a dent. When he finally finished, he sat back, arms folded across his belly, and let out a suppressed burp. “Sorry.” It was only then since he first sat down did he raise his eyes to hers. The two stared at each other a long moment; she was fully aware he didn’t want to be the one to break the ice because neither did she.

  She crossed her arms and took a deep breath, prolonging the exhale, buying herself as much time as possible. Fine. I’ll do it. “So?” she said just as Joe opened his mouth as if to say the same thing.

  “Um . . .”

  “What, were you going to say something?”

  “No.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “I mean, yes, I was, but you spoke first so go.”

  “I spoke first because you were just sitting there.”

  “Sorry for eating.”

  “You should be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  He glanced to the side, sighed, then said, “Look, I’m sorry, all right?”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. She stared at him, hoping to give the impression she was expecting him to say more.

  Joe leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. Maybe she was telepathic?

  He peered up at her with sincere eyes. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “I’m sorry for leaving the house when I shouldn’t have. You were right. I had some stuff to work out.”

  She kept her voice soft. “I know.”

  “You do, too, you know?” he said.

  “Don’t. This isn’t about me right now. There’ll be time for that later.”

  Joe waited a moment before speaking. “I had to go see if April was still alive.”

  Tracy’s eyes widened at this. Though it was what she’d thought he was doing, to actually hear it was something different and she felt ashamed that it bothered her.

  “I had to make sure. I went to her apartment, or at least where it was in my world. At that apartment, she didn’t live there. I know this because the place had pictures of a completely different family. I mean, she” —he swallowed— “she could’ve maybe married someone and went by that name. I don’t know. It’d be impossible to find out. I didn’t see a single living soul out there, which makes it very, very clear that whoever’s here in this place” —he glanced around, gesturing to the safe house— “are the very few who are left. I didn’t see April at the Hub. She’s not here. I even looked when we got back.” He sighed. “I just had to know. I had to try.”

  It was hard to hear, but it was something she had to take in. She and Joe had talked about their exes in the past, but never got it out in the open that the pain and longing were still oh so real. His story confirmed it.

  Joe nervously tapped his fingers on the table. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was too scared to.

  Tracy reached across the table and grabbed his hand, folding it in both of hers. She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry for being so mad at you. I was being selfish.”

  “No, you weren’t—”

  “Yes, I was. I was so selfish that I’m . . . I’m jealous.”

  His expression changed, slightly surprised.

  She smiled a little. “You know that I understand where you’re coming from. I understand that pain and what it’s like to have a hopeful future ripped away from you, one that even goes beyond what happened to the world, to suddenly go from being at the threshold of heaven to being in the pit of hell. I thought maybe—”

  “Tracy, I’m scared to death.”

  “Scared?”

  “My whole life since losing April, first in my world simply on the day she left me that one weekend, to finding her as one of the creatures and killing her myself, to coming here and thinking maybe, just maybe, she was out there, that hope—I’m used to hiding, to keeping everyone else in the dark while keeping April in the light of my heart. Laying it flat out before you, Tracy, I miss her like crazy.”

  She winced at hearing that, but understood completely and her heart went out to him.

  “And I’ve been so focused on her that it’s wrecked so many things. To even possibly have a life—what I mean is, I” —he paused, licked his lips— “I met you and for the first time, that hope of a future returned, that amazing hope that seemed forever lost had returned.”

  She couldn’t help but let her eyes water at hearing that. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Somewhere along the way, you got to me, inside, where it counts. A part of me wishes I told you sooner, but I’m also glad that I had a chance to confirm some things, check things through, settle something.”

  “Is it settled?”

  “I’d be lying if I said yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I’d be telling the truth when I say that even if I find out she’s alive, even if I talked to her, when all is said and done—I’d want to come home to you, if you’d let me.”

  Tracy withdrew her hands and brought them to her face. The tears poured out, overpowering emotions of gentleness, kindness and relief consuming her. Inside, her heart ached but not for hurt. It ached for him, for his pain that she shared because of Josh, the boy her future had once rested upon, for the fearful thought of letting herself fall into Joe’s arms and run the risk of losing him to someone she had never even met despite what he just said—to the amazing and comforting peace that came with those same words. Though she refused to say it now, she knew that she loved him.

  Gentle ha
nds came around her shoulders then moved to her wrists to remove her hands from her face. She was embarrassed to look up at him with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, but by the way he looked at her, she was comforted knowing that he didn’t care.

  Joe took her by the hands and brought her to her feet so they stood in front of each other. Oh so softly, he reached up and cupped her face in his hands all the while looking deep into her eyes. With gentle strokes of his thumb, he wiped her tears away, then pulled her in and kissed her.

  * * * *

  One year ago . . .

  Lucifer sat on his throne of stones and worms amidst the platform amidst the Lake of Fire. Though he could place his throne wherever he pleased in Hell, it was here that brought him the most satisfaction for it was the screams of those he deceived that filled the pit. Each shriek of pain and terror the damned emitted was a pleasure and a reminder of victory against the One he swore war against. Now, with the portal having served its purpose, an ultimate final victory was assured.

  The devil had known his minions would traverse the portal twice. It was inevitable for the One above always had a contingency plan. When the demons first went through, no doubt they thought all would go smoothly in the Earthly realm. Transforming to a downpour, the evil spirits were able to rain upon mankind and possess every soul that came in contact with it. Only those indoors or remained completely untouched by the rain were not taken over, but to do so would be easy as each spirit had the ability to infect another. Despite not being able to leave the body they possessed nor divide itself in two . . . the demon still retained influence over those they infected, depositing a little bit of their power into the ones they bit. Not all the infected would be as strong or stable as the others as a result, but the ability to encompass the globe in darkness would be achieved.

  When the demons returned through the portal, they came right after their departure for in Hell there is no Time, only a single moment. This realm like its counterpart existed outside what was perceived as Time. Only when a demon or even the devil himself visited the Earth did the awareness of Time surface.

  One of the demons—Forthinus—reported the angel Nathaniel was on his way to Hell to rescue a human who had fallen through the Earth to the realm beneath. Nathaniel had been gifted with foresight and long-range vision. He no doubt had witnessed the portal in use and thus would be able to recruit those among both angel and men who could counter their attack. The only choice was to return, re-enter, give an infusion of some of the devil’s power into the portal itself, affecting all going through, transforming them into something stronger, and for some of his devotees, something larger.

  Nathaniel wouldn’t risk bringing the host of angelic warriors down to Hell to do battle and thus leave the Earth unprotected. Sure, those believers in the One above would survive, but those whom the angels had an interest in outside of those believers would be left wide open for immediate attack. What Nathaniel didn’t know, was whether they were there or not, a mass possession was inevitable. It would happen too fast for them to counter and so they would be at a loss.

  In time—Earth Time—Lucifer would step through a portal himself, a different portal, the one created the day he fell like lightning from Heaven.

  * * * *

  21

  The Lie

  The zombie horde led by Dr. Moore poured into the room, at least a dozen undead.

  “Kill them,” was all Dr. Moore said, gesturing to Billie, Sven and Bastian. The doctor’s face distorted and turned dark gray, his hair falling off in patches, his clothes growing baggy and filthy, hanging off a loose, skeletal frame.

  With arms raised, the doctor led the charge against Billie and her friends. The two German brothers immediately went to work taking on the dead hand-to-hand, breaking necks when possible.

  Billie grabbed one of the chairs from off the floor and swung it at the doctor. Dr. Moore managed to weave his arm in and around the legs, locking it in place then yanking the chair away from her. He reached out to grab her. Billie ducked and rolled along the floor, then stood with a long shard of broken mirror in her hand. Even just touching the mirror and knowing the evil it showcased made her cringe, but she didn’t have a choice.

  Dr. Moore moved in; she lunged forward and jabbed the shard of mirror into the side of the doctor’s neck, creating a geyser of smelly, black blood.

  She heard Sven and Bastian’s shouts and grunts of combat as they fought the creatures. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Sven had picked up a shard of mirror, too, his even longer and more jagged than hers. She wasn’t sure what Bastian was using for a weapon and it was difficult to see with all the bodies in the room.

  Dr. Moore grabbed hold of her by the shoulders and lifted her off her feet. Quickly, Billie jerked out the shard sticking out of the doctor’s neck and brought it down into his mouth just as he opened it in a moaning shriek. The shard penetrated through the back of the doctor’s throat, popping through on the other side. Billie drew up her legs and kicked against the doctor’s chest, releasing his grip and sending herself flying backward in the air, then landing hard on the floor. The back of her skull hit the ground on impact and stars danced before her vision. A big hand reached down and grabbed her by the middle of her shirt, lifting her to her feet. She shrieked, thinking it was one of the creatures, but was relieved to see it was Sven at her side.

  Four more zombies remained.

  Sven pounced at the nearest one, using his heavy weight to knock the creature straight over and drive the long shard of mirror through its skull. Another two came at Bastian, who dispatched the most rotten of the two by getting behind it and ripping its head from its body. The other he took out by kicking it to the floor then jumping high up and landing on its head, crushing its skull.

  The final zombie stood there swaying as if not knowing what to do. Trying to ignore the headache setting in, Billie again went for the chair, picked it up, and brought it down across the creature’s back, sending the thing to the ground. Once it lay there, she aimed her shot, used the chair leg like a spear and drove it down into the back of the creature’s skull like a javelin finding its mark.

  The three stood panting; Billie’s nose was bleeding again so she pulled up the collar of her shirt, pinched it off and leaned her head back, not caring her middle was showing.

  “Too many dead people,” Bastian said.

  “Yah,” said Sven.

  Billie sneezed, getting a spatter of blood all over her hands and inside her shirt. Embarrassed, she adjusted her makeshift tissue and pinched her nose even harder.

  Sven was at her side, and she turned away so he couldn’t see her in this state. He didn’t say anything.

  Taking the lead, Billie started toward the door, this time her head bowed and looking forward for any sign of more creatures.

  Bodies shuffled behind her. She turned around and Dr. Moore was back on his feet. Snarling, Sven dove on top of the doctor and with his palm further slammed the shard of mirror through Dr. Moore’s throat. He then took his own makeshift blade and brought down into the doctor’s eye. The undead doctor stopped twitching.

  Sven and Bastian joined Billie by the door and the three proceeded down the hallway.

  “We need weapons, real weapons,” Sven said.

  “Yah,” Bastian said.

  Billie caught herself saying “Yah,” too, and felt like a goon.

  The three continued down the hallway, guard up.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Billie said.

  Sven said, “Mm hm.”

  Having been in a similar situation before with August back when they had been taken to what they thought was a stronghold in a forest, but turned out to be a den of zombies, she cursed herself for not being more careful when it came to trusting anyone, even Sven or Bastian or Isabel. They could still be part of some great deception that would be hatched in its own time. She suddenly felt uneasy about her companions.

  Keeping her voice to a whisper, she said, “Stop.” The tw
o men obeyed. “Keep an eye out, but we need a plan. We also just got thrown for a major loop.”

  “Thrown for loop?” Bastian asked, clearly not understanding the metaphor.

  “We thought we were experiencing one thing with a certain kind of people then it turned out that wasn’t the case.”

  “Ah.”

  “Let’s talk this out: why would a zombie doctor take us through a storehouse filled with weapons that are meant to fight the undead, actually show us these things and explain them, then take us to a room and nearly kill us?”

  The two men—always so alike—kept their eyes to the ground, the mental wheels turning.

  “The guy at the beginning, the elevators of zombies so we had to take the stairs, the walk-through, weapons—The mirror! Opposites. That’s it. Yes!” Billie hopped on her toes then had to quickly stop when her nose lit with a fresh blast of pain. “Ow.”

  “What did you think?” Sven asked.

  “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking—obviously they were trying to kill us. That just happened, but somehow they knew we were coming, so either they have really good intel or someone told them.”

  “What’s ‘intel’?”

  “Just let me finish.”

  Sven closed his mouth.

  To herself: “It can’t be that easy, can it?” To the others: “If everyone we encountered were actually shape shifters, they are either brilliant shape-shifting zombies that can create amazing tech for war, or they came here and took the place of those who had.”

  “I don’t understand words,” Bastian said.

  “We didn’t use the elevators for a reason and clearly this place has power running via generators so the elevators could have easily worked. The guy that led us down here said there were zombies in the elevators. I’m thinking not. I’m thinking the contents of the elevators were concealed from us because they contain people, real people.”