A Boy and His Corpse

by Richard B. Knight

  The cameraman made a running leap and it almost sounded like he went “Whee!” upon jumping.

  James watched Herbert next. This was his only time he would have to talk to him.

  “I—” James began but Herbert punched him right in the face, knocking him to the floor of the plane. He saw stars.

  “That was for lying to Alan!” He shouted before throwing his arm forward. Mort ambled toward the open hatch and walked right out the plane. Herbert followed.

  James held his jaw. He deserved that.

  Gathering up his courage, he pushed his way to the edge of the plane and saw nothing but blue and white.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

  He stepped out the plane and didn’t keep his promise. It was the strangest, most horrifying sensation having nothing beneath him but sky. He barked a soundless scream as he felt the harsh, cold air rip at his face. His heart was in his throat.

  The air was even louder than he imagined, and as he plummeted, he opened his eyes only to see colorful parachutes popping open beneath him. There were one, two, three, and…four.

  James flung his arm back but he had trouble finding the cords.

  Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?!?!

  He frantically felt about as the howling wind deafened him.

  At his intense speed, he shot down and flew past the others, flailing his arms and legs as if he were swimming against gravity. The blue soon turned to orange desert and the air tore at him completely.

  I’m going to die. I’m going to die!

  At that moment, something strange happened to his arm. It suddenly began to move on its own. No, somebody was guiding it.

  A green aura encircled his arm and it flew back. His index finger wrapped around a hook that he hadn’t felt before and it tugged. The pullback from the parachute was intense as the air reversed directions. He went from falling to soaring. His other arm now had a green aura around it, and it grabbed the handles attached to the parachute.

  He would be okay. He was safe.

  He let out a sigh of relief. The only question was, who had saved him? Was it Herbert or the entity?

  His descent slowed and his feet sank into the soft sand as he hit the ground. The parachute engulfed him.

  The heat from the sun-drenched sand penetrated through his clothing, burning his back and butt, but he was alive. He had made it!

  Behind him, the others landed, and the sound of the cameraman laughing was the first noise he heard as he struggled from underneath the parachute.

  “I thought you were a goner!” The cameraman shouted. “Thank God I got all that on film.”

  Lorraine

  Lorraine continuously kicked Mr. Rovas’ supine body.

  “MMMMMM! MMMMMM! MMMMMM!” she said with each devastating blow to his ribs.

  On the seventh kick, the man rolled over and groaned.

  “Stop. Please stop,” he coughed with his eyes still closed. “I beg of you.”

  “MMMMMMNNNN!” Lorraine said again, delivering a kick into the fingers he used to block her foot.

  “OWW! Dammit!” he said, pushing himself away. “That really hurt!”

  Not nearly enough if you’re still alive.

  “What happened?” he said, looking about.

  “Mmmmmnnn mmnnnn mnnnn mnnnn mnnnn,” Lorraine said, which roughly translated to, “Something came out of your mouth and went into Alan and now they’re gone!”

  “Where is?—” he began, but his face collapsed before he could finish. “Oh, dear God!”

  He made a move for the stairs, but Lorraine tackled him before he could reach them. Once on top, she slapped him back and forth.

  He put up his hands to protect his face but did not fight back. “No, no, I deserve it,” he said. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I only wanted your son to finally be the necromancer I always knew he could be. I didn’t think the Devil—”

  “Mmmmm Mnnnnnn,” Lorraine said, putting her hands over her ears and clamping her eyes tight.

  “Okay, fine, you don’t want to hear the truth. I can’t fault you for that. It is pretty horrible. Where are they now?”

  Lorraine shrugged. “Mmuuummmm Mmmmmm.”

  How the hell should I know?

  “Come on, think woman. Did they tell you where they were going? After the De—” Lorraine gave him a dirty look and he measured his words. “While I was being held captive in my own body, I kept hearing ‘Afghanistan’ over and over again. Did…the presence say he was heading to Afghanistan?”

  Lorraine nodded vigorously.

  “Dear, God,” Mr. Rovas said, wriggling beneath Lorraine. “Get off of me. Get off! We have to stop them. I need to make a call.”

  Lorraine slid off of him and watched him pat his pockets. His eyebrows shot all the way up to his hair.

  “They took it!” he said. “Please tell me the Devil—” Lorraine gave him the dirty look again, but now that he was back on his feet, he persisted. “Yes, the Devil, Lorraine. We don’t have time for niceties now. Did the Devil call the President of Israel?”

  Lorraine nodded.

  “We have to stop them,” Mr. Rovas said, holding his forehead. “if they’re going to do what I think they’re going to do, then they’ll ruin everything.”

  Even if she could open her mouth, Lorraine didn’t know what to say. She wished she could run away, but where, and for what purpose?

  “Come,” he said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it away.

  “Mmmmm Mmmmm Mmmmm?”

  Where are we going?

  “We’re going to talk to the President. The American people simply cannot know about the Undead Militia’s existence. It would cause widespread panic. I’m going to need your help.”

  Mr. Rovas

  Mr. Rovas held his ribs as they made their way to the stairs. The adrenaline that had flooded his system when he had first awoken was dribbling out of him like drool from a somnambulist’s mouth. His entire body ached and exhaustion made his legs and arms feel heavy.

  I’m not going to make it. Why did I ever side with Lucifer? Why?

  The meeting he had with the Devil had been abrupt and to the point. One moment, he sat watching TV and mulling over what he did to Herbert, and the next, the TV started flickering. He grabbed the remote and pressed half a dozen buttons. He was just about to reach for the phone to give the cable company a piece of his mind when the signal returned. But something about the broadcast was different. An eerie air—almost like a presence—filled the room.

  He felt something behind him.

  He turned quickly, but saw nothing. He crossed his arms and sunk deeper into his sofa, upset with himself for allowing his mind to play tricks on him.

  “Shhh, don’t make a move,” a voice whispered right beside his ear.

  “Who…who are you?” Mr. Rovas asked.

  “A friend. You work with me every day.”

  Mr. Rovas stared dead-eyed at the television. His favorite show, Westminster Abbey played on the screen. One of the characters, a priest had been summoned to perform an exorcism. As Mr. Rovas listened to the voice beside his ear, he saw devil horns sprout up on the priest. When the priest turned toward the screen, a forked tongue poked out of his mouth.

  “Are you…” Mr. Rovas began.

  “Shhhh, yes,” Lucifer replied. At that moment, Mr. Rovas felt the sinking feeling that he had a giant bullseye on his forehead. His body felt frigid and he saw his own breath. Even though there were no hands on his shoulders, he felt them there, as well as a strong presence behind him. The Devil was using him as a human shield. It wasn’t until his body was invaded that he learned that angels can’t kill humans. God wouldn’t allow it.

  If only I had turned him away, Mr. Rovas thought as he pawed the side of the wall while he walked up the stairs. If I had just moved a single inch away from him, he would have been struck down by St. Michael. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Just hear me out,” Lucifer had told him. The plan Lucife
r laid out was simple. If he let Lucifer inhabit his body for a little while, he would get the necromancer he always wanted out of Alan and all problems would be solved.

  “Trust me,” the Devil had said, but Mr. Rovas was no fool.

  Why should I trust you? Mr. Rovas mentally asked. If you’re so powerful, why can’t you just give Alan the power he needs? Why do we have to go around it this way?

  The Devil explained it quickly.

  “I had no idea that giving Herbert powers would transfer over to his son. I was desperate when I met him.” In his mind, Mr. Rovas saw Herbert dying in the desert and the chance encounter he had with Satan. Seeing the Archangel Michael come down out of the Heavens in that enormous, golden vortex sent a shiver down Mr. Rovas’ spine. He stared at the ceiling.

  “Don’t worry. We’re safe as long as I’m behind you.”

  Mr. Rovas gulped. Say I do help you. How are you going to get inside Alan?

  “If you let me inside your body, we’ll do it together. But first, we have to wait for the President to get here.”

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Rovas had asked. Why is the President coming here?”

  “Because he’s scared.”

  “Scared of what? He wouldn’t be around these parts unless he—” Mr. Rovas slapped his forehead.

  “Let me inside your body and we’ll fix everything. I’ll even let you be in control. Deal?

  The rest was history.

  By the fourth step, Mr. Rovas leaned fully against the wall.

  “Hard,” Lorraine said out of nowhere, and suddenly, she started screaming. “Oh, my God! I can talk again! I can talk!”

  Mr. Rovas looked back and saw her pulling the skin from her lips like a lizard shedding its skin.

  “That’s not good,” he said.

  “Hey! Screw you!”

  “No.” How little she knows. “It’s not good because that means Lucifer must have forgotten about you now.”

  Lucifer had forgotten about him, too. He felt it the moment the Devil left his body and drifted into Alan.

  “And why is it a bad thing?” Lorraine asked, drawing back.

  “Because that means he must have more important things on his mind now. Help me up.”

  Lorraine went underneath his arm to help him up the rest of the stairs and down the corridor. The short journey should have taken no more than three minutes, but at his slow pace, it was a full fifteen minutes before they reached the surface hatch. When they got to the surface, the frigid air rattled his tired bones.

  “Put me down here,” he said.

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Please, just put me down.”

  She lay him down in the darkness, and he stared up through the trees at the waning moonlight.

  In the back of his mind, he thought about the hidden plane Lucifer must have taken to get this operation moving. Every thought he had resided with Lucifer now, and it made him feel dirty. Whatever happened next was all his fault.

  “What’s happening to you?” Lorraine asked.

  He caught her key concern. “I don’t know if this is happening to Alan, too. All I know is…is that I’m falling apart. So you have to listen to me,” he said before coughing violently. He felt like he had nails in his throat, and when he stopped coughing, he tasted blood. “Taylor Gint.—” more coughing brought along more blood. “You must…talk to him.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “You must…stop…”

  Dammit, I can’t get the words out.

  “What about Alan?” Lorraine asked him with wide, full eyes.

  “Nothing…you can do,” Mr. Rovas said, lowering his eye lids and feeling a chill creep up through his body, penetrating the muscles and sinking into his bones. “….about.” He shut his eyes completely.

  “Mr. Rovas,” he heard her scream before he sunk into darkness, “Mr. Rovas!”

  And then, he heard nothing at all.

  President Rosewater

  President Rosewater saw his head advisor, Tom Mitchum, out the corner of his eye as he rushed inside his office.

  “Hey!” Tom Mitchum said, outstretching his hand.

  Rosewater closed the door.

  On the plane ride back, the calls had been consistent and annoying. First, there was a call from Secretary of Defense, Brian Salge.

  “Sir, we’re still waiting commands on when we can send in drone strikes to Pakistan.”

  “We’re still going to wait until we hear from the U.N.”

  The concern and doubt in Secretary Salge’s, “Yes, sir,” was palpable.

  Yeah, well screw you, too, Rosewater thought as he hung up the phone.

  His wife called next.

  “Where are you?” She asked him, her voice thick with her New York upraising. When she was in good spirits, her Bronx accent was endearing, but when she was upset, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Busy. Personal business.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? Are you having an affair, Roger?”

  “No, Millie,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I just didn’t have time to call. Things are a real mess right now with this Pakistan debacle.”

  “Well, I’m going to be gone for the next few days visiting homeless shelters in Detroit. Unlike somebody, I let my husband know where I’m going.”

  Rosewater rolled his eyes.

  “Have fun,” he told her.

  Dozens of other calls kept him busy and as the plane made its final approach to Andrews AFB, he got the one call he had expected.

  When he had looked at the number, his eyes bulged. It was the President of Israel, Eli Lampel. He hadn’t talked to him since their conversation a few days ago. He wondered how the man got his personal number.

  Mr. Rovas.

  He stared at the ringing phone and considered letting the call go to voice mail, but clenched his fist. He had to stop avoiding conflict like this. He had to step up and be a man!

  “Hello, Eli,” Rosewater said as calmly as possible.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Rovas!”

  The panic in Mr. Lampel’s voice made Rosewater tremble. He turned to the window and lowered his voice. Secret servicemen were just a couple seats in front of him; most notably Hernandez who had been so adamantly against leaving him before.

  “What do you mean, where is he?” Rosewater whispered. “I have a better question. How do you even know him?”

  “I need to talk to him right now. He’s not picking up his phone.”

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, I’m not the man’s keeper,” Rosewater growled. “Whatever you settled with him, that’s on you.”

  “I don’t have time for this. Do you know where Mr. Rovas is or not?”

  “I was just with him a couple of hours ago. He said he was going to talk to you.”

  “Well, he didn’t. I talked to some kid instead. He said Mr. Rovas was dead. I didn’t believe it.”

  “Dead?” Rosewater said, staring wide-eyed at the back of the seat in front of him. He exhaled and nearly dropped the phone.

  “Hello?” Mr. Lampell said. “Hello? Are you there?”

  The President shook his head to sweep out the shock. “What did this kid sound like?”

  “He had a rough edge to his voice.”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know. You have to do something about this. He asked me to clear the airspace over Afghanistan.”

  “And did you?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Well, if he asked you to do it, then you better do it.” He looked over the seat and Hernandez leaned out into the aisle, looking back at him. Rosewater lowered himself deeper into his seat.

  “But I can’t just set planes out there without having a reason. There’s a lot of red tape involved. You know that.” He softened his voice. “But I might be able to do something about it if I can say that you’re sending out planes, too.”

  Rosewater mulle
d it over and bit his thumbnail. Dammit, Mr. Rovas. I thought you had this covered. “Fine. Tell them whatever you want, but I’m not making any promises. And don’t let this get out to the public. I’ll reach out to Jim.”

  “Who?”

  “I mean, Mr. Rovas. Get back to me if there are any new developments.”

  Rosewater hung up and fished out his other phone. He dialed the six digit number, but nobody answered. He hung up and sighed.

  When his car pulled into the White House drive, his watch read one in the morning, he didn’t want to talk to anybody and longed for his bed in the hopes that the past two days had been a dream.

  The door to the Oval Office flew open.

  “Tom!” Rosewater exclaimed.

  “What are we going to do about this?”

  “Not now, Tom.”

  “Not now?! But what about the footage?”

  “What footage?”

  “The footage!”

  When Rosewater stared at him with his mouth hung open like a Neanderthal, his advisor gave him a worried look.

  “Wait, do you really not know?”

  “What happened?” Rosewater said, standing up.

  Oh, God. What have they done now?

  Alan

  “Shock and awe,” Alan’s lips said even though they weren’t his words. “Shock and awe.”

  His father shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no, if we’re going to do this, we have to use stealth.”

  “I agree with Herbert,” James said.

  “I don’t care what you agree with,” Lucifer said. “We’re going to go in with guns a-blazing, and that’s that. We have to leave an impression.”

  “Why, though? I still don’t get your plan. Why are you doing this?”

  Lucifer smiled with Alan’s lips.

  “The world is mysterious sometimes, is it not?” Lucifer said.

  “Screw mysterious! You’re going to get us all killed,” Herbert said. “And I’m not about to let my boy’s body get destroyed because you want to be a fool.”