Time Spent

by J. David Clarke

  "You're BAD PEOPLE."

  Tommy spun around. Zachary had moved behind him, his face completely reconstructed.

  "How the fuck are you standing?" Tommy asked.

  "God sent me to stop people like you." Zachary brought up and hand and clamped it on Tommy's forehead.

  ______________________

  The hole widened, and through it, Zachary beheld an eerie light. A ghastly red glow shone forth, bathing the rooftop in crimson. Winged creatures emerged, and a cacophony of high-pitched laughter issued from their mouths to echo off the rooftop and fill his ears.

  They were demons, Zachary realized with a start.

  There were demons everywhere.

  A horde of the winged demons flapped down to the rooftop, grasping Zachary's arms and legs in their tiny claws.

  The held his limbs splayed apart, keeping him immobile. Zachary struggled, but couldn't free himself.

  ______________________

  Every night, Zachary would kneel beside his father to pray before going to bed, but one night, Vernon told him to sit on the edge of the bed instead.

  "I want to tell you a story, Zachary."

  Zachary sat next to him. His father put an arm around him, coughing a bit. Time had passed, and his father had grown ill, needing medicine to keep him well enough to work even the meager jobs he was able to find.

  "This story is from the book of Luke, and it's very important." Vernon held in his hands an old Bible, one he had read from many times, although he knew it so well he did not need to open it at all. "Two men went up to a temple to offer their prayers to the Lord. One was a Pharisee, and the other a tax collector."

  Zachary's brow crinkled.

  Vernon chuckled. "If you're wondering what a Pharisee is, that's quite a long story itself. But this would have been a very spiritual man, a leader in his church. Very pious, very learned, the kind of man you would think would be very close to God." He paused to gauge the look in Zachary's blue eyes. "And that's a good thing, isn't it, Zachary?"

  Zachary nodded.

  "Yes, it is. Well the Pharisee saw that he was alone in the temple with this tax collector, just a common fellow, and he prayed to God, 'God, I thank you that I am not like these other people, the evildoers, or the common folk like this tax collector here. I'm a good man. I do good works, I fast twice a week, I give a tenth of everything I receive to the church.'"

  Zachary pursed his lips while he thought about this, and Vernon smiled.

  "Now the tax collector stood apart, and he prayed too. He said, 'God, please have mercy upon me, for I am a sinner.' Now, that's a simple prayer for a simple man. He hadn't done all those things the Pharisee had, you see?"

  Zachary nodded.

  Vernon leaned close. "Zachary, I want you to understand this, because the Bible is very clear on this: the Pharisee had done good works, works that most would say were worthy of praise, but it was this man, the tax collector, not the Pharisee, who went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves shall be humbled, and those who humble themselves shall be exalted."

  Zachary nodded.

  "We praise only the Lord, always, never ourselves, son. The Lord does not abide pride, ever. He is always on the lookout for it in our hearts, and if he sees it, destruction will come to you just as sure as you're sitting here next to me right now. The Lord sees it, and the Lord will look at the prideful man and see him humbled."

  Zachary was silent.

  Vernon placed the old Bible carefully in Zachary's hands. "I want you to keep this from now on, son. We'll write your name in it, and you keep it close to you, and whenever you need to you can open its pages and let God's Word into your heart."

  From somewhere, Vernon produced a pen. Zachary opened the front cover of the old Bible and, with his father's help, began to write.

  ______________________

  More soldiers, running from everywhere now, came from multiple doorways into the hangar and opened fire. The bullets just bounced off Brock's metal nodes, and he made quick work of them, shooting the tendrils from his hands into them one after another and converting them into zombies just like he had the first one.

  Tommy just stood there, hands clasped to his head. Russell shook his shoulders. "Come on, man, what's wrong with you? We have to get out of here! Let's find some clothes and get out of here."

  "He's seeing God's message," Zachary said.

  "I'm okay," Tommy said, shaking his head. "I'm okay."

  "What happened?" Russell asked.

  "I saw my dad. He used to...he used to hit me real bad." Tommy turned to Zachary. "You stay away from me, man. You stay the fuck away from me."

  "She promised everything would finally end if I just get there." Amber was still moving toward the door, gaining speed. "But it hurts."

  "Maybe I can help you," Zachary said. "I help people."

  "I think you've done enough, man." Tommy put a hand on his shoulder.

  "Don't touch me! God sent me!" A red light welled within Zachary's chest. It moved to the spot Tommy's hand touched. When it reached Tommy's hand a force lashed out, knocking Tommy backward.

  "I had glass in me and I got better. I got burned up and I came back.” Zachary’s eyes began to glow. “Nothing you do can hurt me," he said. "I help people. I bring them back. I'm God's favorite!"

  Amber slipped out the door.

  "Come on, Tommy," Russell said.

  "Yeah." Tommy backed away from Zachary. "Let's get out of here."

  Tommy ran, not for the exit but to the wall. He brought up his fists and slammed them into the wall. There were a great groan of ruptured metal and the wall came down in a rain of metal and cloud of dust. Tommy and Russell ran off across the base and were gone.

  ______________________

  The demons sang a haunting song, of the end of days and the time they would be free to reign over the world unchecked. They sang of their master, the one who would bring about the end times.

  Zachary was scared, but he closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed for God to save them all.

  At the center of the aperture in the sky, another light formed, this one blood red.

  A figure stepped forth on cloven-hoofed legs, like those of a goat.

  Zachary's eyes widened, and paralyzing fear took hold. The figure stepped down as if walking down a flight of invisible stairs, its hooves landing on empty air. At the base of the stairs, its wings unfolded, black lined with red, like the wings of a terrible dragon. Horns spiraled from its flowing red hair, and its naked breasts hung from its chest, dark nipples stabbing from them. Red eyes looked out from its terrible face, casting a blood red glow on Zachary as they fixed on him.

  The figure approached, and as it did so its features shifted, until it was a beautiful woman with flowing red hair, ruby red lips and dark red eyes. She smiled at him.

  "ZACHARY," she said. "MY SPECIAL BOY."

  ______________________

  The sound of hacking coughs reverberating off the walls of the tiny bedroom woke Zachary from a deep sleep. His father needed the medicine.

  Zachary woke, sliding from his small bed and walking barefoot to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet, and peered inside. He looked around for several seconds, confused, before his sleepy brain remembered: there was no more medicine, had not been any for some time.

  He went to his father's bedside and sat beside him, taking Vernon's hand in his. Vernon turned bleary eyes on him, flecks of gray spittle on his chin.

  "My boy," he said in hoarse rasp. "At times like these, it can feel very much like God has abandoned me."

  Zachary looked down, tears welling in his eyes.

  "But, Zachary..." He stopped, his body wracked with another cough. After it had passed, Vernon lifted his hand to cup Zachary's cheek. "I look at you, and I know you are a gift from God. I know it. God will never abandon us. Never. So long as you keep Him in your heart."

  Zachary nodded, wiping a tear from his eye.

  Eventually, the
coughing fit passed, and Vernon was again able to sleep. Zachary made sure he was covered up, and returned to his own bed. He was not able to sleep again that night.

  ______________________

  On the far side of the wreckage, they found Becca shouting at Zachary, with a red-haired girl looking on. Max released his hold on Tyler and Marcus, allowing them to reappear.

  "Hey, what's going on?" Tyler said.

  "Where did you come from?" asked the redhead.

  "Give me a minute," Becca said. "I'm a little busy tearing Blondie a new one."

  Marcus put a hand on Tyler's shoulder. "Hey, uh, did anyone notice these guys with metal faces?"

  There were several of the cyber-zombies surrounding them, wandering the room aimlessly.

  "They were soldiers. I think Brock did this to them," Tyler said.

  The redhead gave him a wide-eyed look. "Brock was here? Where is he?"

  Tyler shrugged. "Last I saw him, he was following Mia."

  "Please don't tell me that Neanderthal is your boyfriend," Becca said.

  "What if he is?"

  "Oh God, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little."

  Suddenly one of the cyber-zombies stopped cold, cocked its head, and Brock's voice emerged. "primaryhostdisabled. secondaryhostengaged."

  "Fuck, here we go again," Becca said.

  Its body went through the same transformation Becca and Tyler had seen before, shifting and mutating, growing in size and sprouting metal shapes that wrapped around it, until it was a complete duplicate of Brock.

  "systemstandby. Man, FUCK those lezbo BITCHES. systemstanbymode."

  "Brock, baby!" The redhead ran to him, putting her arms around him. "What happened to you?"

  "facialrecognitionengaged. TIFFANY? Is that YOU? I thought you were DEAD. performinganalysis. analysisincomplete. anomalousenergydetected."

  She hugged him. "I was. I think we all were."

  Becca grabbed Zachary. "Okay, Rain Man, you're on deck. You want to give someone a message?" She pointed at Brock. "There's your guy."

  She shoved him forward.

  Rather than deliver the message to Brock, however, Zachary turned on Becca.

  "Stop making fun of me," he said.

  "What, you mean Rain Man?" She laughed. "I actually thought that was kind of a compliment, to be-"

  "STOP MAKING FUN OF ME!" Zachary reached out a finger. The red glow flared in his chest and ripped down his arm to jump from his finger to Becca's chest. A violent eruption threw her backwards, her body landing on the ground.

  "Becca!" Tyler ran to her side, kneeling.

  "People always make fun of me!" Zachary shouted. "But God picked me to save the world! Not you! ME!"

  "Zachary, she's not moving." Tyler was leaning over her, examining her. Charred flesh covered Becca's neck and shoulders. "I think you killed her."

  "What?" Zachary's bottom lip quivered. "No...no, I don't kill people. I help people. God sent me to help people."

  "Well then HELP HER," Tiffany shouted.

  Zachary moved beside Becca, lowering himself to his knees. He placed his hands on her chest. Seconds passed. He lifted his hands and placed them again, concentrating.

  "Nothing's happening," Tyler said.

  "I don't know why," Zachary said. "I'm trying..."

  "I thought you always asked God to do it, and it just happened."

  Zachary looked as if he had been slapped. "I forgot," he said. "I forgot to ask God."

  "Let me try something." Tyler stood, looking intently down on Becca's body.

  With an audible WHOOSH, Becca's body dissolved, scattering like dust before a breeze. Tyler turned, gazing into empty space.

  "What did you do?" Tiffany covered her mouth with her hand.

  "Hush! I've never tried this before." Tyler concentrated, and in the empty space in front of him the dust came together, swirling and gathering, coalescing into a human form. In a flash Becca's skin and clothes reappeared, and she sucked in air, staggering into his arms.

  "Becca?" Tyler lifted her face. "Are you...you?"

  "Oh...oh my god..." She wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you. Oh my god, thank you!!"

  "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

  Zachary was silent. He sat down on the floor and said nothing.

  Wind picked up outside, banging the hanging shreds of the hangar walls. There was a distant barking sound.

  Tyler turned from Becca. "What is it, Max?"

  Becca listened. "He says there's something happening downtown."

  Brock's satellite dishes spun. "alertalertalert. It's HER. We need to get there FAST. destinationsetnavigationengaged."

  "Her who?" Tyler asked.

  "Come on," Tiffany said, following Brock. "We have to go."

  Tyler shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere except home!"

  Marcus grabbed his arm. "Come on! We have to go now!"

  "You too? What is this?" But Marcus was wrapping his arm in Tyler's and dragging him along, pulling Becca, who was still weak, along with them.

  Zachary sat on the floor, feeling abandoned, and alone.

  "God?" he asked. "Are you here? Where are you?"

  He felt his body shift, becoming out of phase with the hangar around him. It wasn't God's doing, however: Max had returned, using his power to make Zachary a ghost like him. He licked Zachary's face.

  "Oh, Max...what am I gonna do?"

  Max turned, started to move toward one of the remaining walls, and then turned back. He clearly wanted Zachary to follow.

  "Okay, Max. Okay." Zachary stood and followed him through the wall.

  ______________________

  The woman beamed a kind, beatific smile at him. She looked nothing like Zachary had ever expected, with her beautiful face and alabaster skin, but he knew in his heart who she was.

  "You're the Devil," Zachary said, trembling with fear.

  She placed a finger over her red lips. "SHHH..." The long fingernail glistened with red polish. "IT'S ALL RIGHT ZACHARY."

  She spoke with the sound of souls screaming in endless torment, the crack of flesh burning in fire and freezing in ice. In her eyes were the deaths of countless worlds, and despite their friendly twinkle, they were the coldest, most cruel eyes he had ever seen.

  Zachary recoiled from her as she moved closer, nearly brushing up against him.

  "WE MUST SPEAK, ZACHARY," she said. "WE MUST SPEAK ON MANY THINGS."

  "No..." He pulled back, but Zachary could not escape her.

  "YOU WILL SEE." She raised a finger to touch his forehead. "YOU WERE MEANT TO KNEEL BEFORE ME. YOU WERE ALWAYS ONE OF THE LOST."

  She touched her crimson fingernail to his forehead. Red light exploded in his mind, and Zachary saw...

  "Can I help you?"

  For a moment, Vernon Wells couldn't speak. The sight of the woman framed in the open door had taken his breath away.

  "Yes." He swallowed. "Yes, ma'am." He held out a pamphlet to her. "I'm out. I'm, excuse me." He cleared his throat.

  She was lovely, with flowing red hair framing her face, high cheekbones and penetrating eyes. They were green, he thought, although sometimes it almost seemed they were red. Catching the light off her hair, he thought.

  He began again. "I'm out today meeting with people and bringing the word of God into their lives. Do you have a relationship with Jesus?"

  Her dark red lips parted, glistening in the sun. "Of course."

  Vernon was delighted. This was the first positive response he had received today. Usually, people had already closed the door by this point. He did his best to forgive them, for he knew God would want him to do so, but it was wearisome. Sin was so rampant in this world.

  "Wonderful. Do you think I could take up just a bit of your time to share God's blessings with you?"

  "Come right in," she said, stepping back. He stepped in to her home, small and modest much like his own. She gestured to the right, pointing to a small breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen. Vernon sat
in one of the four chairs, the young woman pulling a chair up to sit close to him. His nostrils caught a whiff of scent as she did so, an alluring perfume that spread through his head and filled him with a sensation that he was walking through a lush meadow filled with flowers.

  "That's a lovely scent," he said.

  "Thank you." Her eyes were so striking, gazing into his. Were they green, or red? Surely the light in here was not bright enough to play tricks on him.

  He reached out again with the pamphlet and she took his hand immediately, slipping the pamphlet away but clasping his fingers in hers. Cool, silky skin played across his palm.

  "Your hands are rough," she said, the corner of her mouth turning up playfully.

  "Oh, yes." He felt that he should probably pull his hand back, but her touch was so soothing. "I work with my hands all day, construction crews and some handyman jobs, home repairs and such."

  "I like it." She held his hand in both of hers and stroked it back and forth.

  "It's...I...yes, the work...I'm..." He yanked his hand back. "Please, forgive me, my manners, I'm so...my name is Vernon. Vernon Wells. It's very pleasure to...pleasing, I mean...I'm pleased to meet you."

  When she answered, he found she was much closer than he had thought. Without his being aware of it, she had slid to the edge of her chair, close enough for him to feel her breath play across his lips. Her eyes filled his vision, and they were a dark, dazzling red. "GWENDOLYN," she said.

  "That's a lovely..." His voiced trailed away.

  Her lips met his, cool and smooth, and her hands were inside his shirt, running silky fingers across his chest. She slid on top of him, never moving her mouth from his, her tongue slipping between his teeth to probe his mouth. Vernon's eyes closed involuntarily, his head rolling back, receiving her kisses and allowing her touch as though he had no other choice, his mind utterly blank.

  Her red eyes bore into him as her hands artfully undid the button of his pants and zipped them down. When her hand wrapped around his cock he gasped, but did not object. She moved her thighs over his hips, slipping her skirt up. She wore no panties. Deftly, she slipped him inside her as she dropped down.