by Pieter Lars
The barker pocketed the bills and slipped away to the parking lot. From Tom’s vantage he had a good angle on where the man was headed and watched him open the trunk of an old Chevy. There were a half dozen large bottles in the back. The kind that were delivered for their office water cooler. The man pulled out a couple more of the cheap spray bottles and filled them with water siphoned from the bottles.
Charlatan, Tom thought. There was no way the vatican was sending shipments of holy water in Sparkletts bottles.
There was a rumble from up ahead in the line and someone shouted: “Look out! Hell Rift!”
That woke Samantha up. She let go of Tom and moved to get a better look.
Sure enough, twenty feet away, right by the ticket booth, a ritual circle was forming in the concrete. The first to form were the rings. They glowed bright orange. Smoke started to rise.
Then came the sigils (Tom hadn’t bothered to read the translation sheet). The air took on a heavy sulfur smell.
Then, with a pop, the rift opened. Tom prepared to flee, but he didn’t think the circle was large enough to summon an Arch-demon, or even a Lord.
Two hulking minor demons climbed from the depths of the rift and stood snarling at the crowd. They were the size of gorillas, with red, scaled backs and thick corded muscles.
The crowd started to scatter. A few brave men, probably boyfriends, pulled out their spray bottles - purchased from the barker - and mounted a half-hearted attack.
They spritzed and sprayed, but the water had no effect.
The demons just laughed and charged the crowd. The first demon grabbed a young woman who was trying to hide behind her boyfriend, who was in turn trying to hide behind her. The demon took hold of her hair and started to drag her, kicking and screaming, toward the rift. There was a manic gleam in the monster’s eye and it tilted its head back and cackled.
The girl’s boyfriend turned to run, spraying his Sparkletts water back over his shoulder. The other demon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the ground, then took hold of his collar and dragged him to the rift as well.
Before anyone could do anything, the demons lept through the rift with their captives and the whole thing disappeared with a clap.
Nobody moved. They were too shocked. They’d heard the reports on the news of this sort of thing happening, but seeing it in person was a whole other matter. Tom couldn’t believe how fast the demons were!
He looked around for the barker, but the man had disappeared along with his car. He probably knew the crowd would turn on him as soon as they figured out he was selling snake oil.
The girl in the ticket booth peeked her head out from under the counter and when she realized the demons were gone, stood and turned on the microphone. “I can help the next customer in line.”
And just like that the line re-formed and started advancing, one couple at a time.
Some stole nervous glances at the spot in the pavement where the young couple had disappeared, but most had grown used to these kinds of things.
Tom and Samantha were three spots from the ticket booth when the rumble started again. There was a crack and a pop and a portion of the parking lot began to glow.
Another ritual circle, and this one was enormous. It stretched across four parking spaces and the little strip of lawn separating the lanes.
“Tom,” Samantha said. “Maybe we should go. Seems like it might be a bad night for the movies.”
He was about to voice his agreement when the ground shook and the rift opened. It swallowed a large SUV and one of those tiny two-seater electric cars.
Huge claws emerged from the sulfurous smoke and gripped the edge of the circle.
Tom had time to wonder what would become of the cars (did they have charging stations in hell?) before his knees started wobbling. This one had to be a Lord, or maybe even an Arch-demon.
He pulled Samantha’s arm and started backing away, toward the other end of the building.
A voice called out from behind them: “Stand aside, folks! Stand aside!”
He turned to see a large, muscular man emerge from the theater lobby. The man wore a fireman’s uniform and had a tank on his back with a hose that stretched to a device in his hands. The device looked like a pressure washer nozzle and the tank had “N.E.A” stenciled on the side in white.
As the man passed, Samantha’s gaze followed him. Her face held an expression that made Tom feel a bit uneasy and a bit jealous.
The demon continued pulling itself from the rift. It swung its head toward the crowd and grinned, showing fangs that were as big as parking cones.
The man in the fireman uniform took long strides toward the demon. He lowered the faceplate on his helmet and lifted his pressure washer.
The demon opened its mouth to roar. The creature’s throat glowed like hot embers and smoke poured from its black eyes. But before it could utter a sound a long stream of water shot from the fireman’s nozzle, directly into the demon’s mouth.
“Back to hell, you beast! By the power of all the various world religions, belief systems, and ontologies, I banish you!”
The demon’s roar turned to a gurgle. It spit and sputtered and the smoke left its eyes. It gave the fireman a look that was almost a pout. And then it slunk down into the rift and disappeared.
Tom looked over to see Samantha watching the fireman with wide eyes. Her smile was equal parts admiration and lust, and Tom felt his heart sink a little.
The fireman turned and started walking back towards the theater. The crowd cheered and gave him high-fives as he passed. Samantha’ neck craned so far around Tom was sure she’d pop a disc.
The fireman walked past them and gave Samantha a wink that made her blush. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared back into the theater.
Tom coughed. Samantha turned toward him, blinking.
“So, what do you think about just watching a movie at my place instead?” he asked.
“Huh?” she replied with a dazed smile. “Oh. Yes. Sure. That’s fine if you don’t want to spend the money.”
Tom sighed.
He really needed a job with a uniform.
6
Giant Spiders
Tom took one step out his front door, right through a huge spider web. He recoiled, did a shivery little karate dance, and then reached up to wipe it from his face.
The strands were as thick as shipping twine.
“Nope,” he said. “Nope, nope, nope.”
He turned, stepped back into his condo, slammed the door shut, pulled off his tie and went back to bed.
His phone woke him an hour later. It was a text from Samantha: Hey, you coming in? Phillips is asking where you are.
Tom texted back: Nope. Spiders. Please tell him I’m sick.
-OK. Hope he’s in a good mood. You OK?
-I’m fine. Just not feeling it today.
-Want me to come over later?
-Sure.
-You sound SO excited ;-). See you after work, babe. Don’t let the creepy crawly spiders get to you.
-:-)
Tom put his phone on his night stand and lay staring at the ceiling, feeling melancholy. Samantha was alway so chipper, and seemed to take everything in stride. No matter what horrors they had to face each week, she would just hop out of bed with a smile and a stretch and endless enthusiasm.
Why was she with him? He was a boring insurance salesman, and not even a very good one. In fact, he was downright horrible. He didn’t have any skills, couldn’t put out fires, or navigate by the stars, or fight vampires or werewolves or giant spiders.
That NEA fireman during Hellspawn week had really made him realize that he wasn’t as courageous as he liked to believe. He sure as hell hadn’t done anything to protect Samantha. He’d just stood there like a wuss.
No wonder she’d stared at the fireman like that. All Tom had ever done for her was rescue her kitty from a giant flood. He was pretty sure that was what had originally convinced her to date him, but what had h
e done since to keep that spark alive?
He rolled over, got out of bed, and went to the window to peek through the blinds. There was a spider hanging upside down from the roof of the condo across the street. It was the size of a german shepherd, with brown fur and black fangs. He swore it swiveled one of its many eyes his way. Hopefully the neighbors were already at work.
He slid into his slippers and went downstairs to make coffee. While he waited for it to brew he sat at his computer and checked his email.
There was a message from the NEA recruitment address. His heart gave a little lurch of excitement as he opened it.
It had been weeks since he had received the message letting him know he’d passed Round One, but he still hadn’t received the Round Two survey. He’d all but assumed he’d missed his chance. That maybe they’d changed his mind or he’d accidentally deleted it from his spam folder.
The new message it read:
-----
To:”[email protected]”
From:”[email protected]”
Subject: Your Recruitment Survey, Round Two
Hello, Mr. Brown,
We would like to take the opportunity to apologize for any delay in the receipt of your Round Two Survey Link. We have had some technical issues on our end, which our technicians are attributing to our malfunctioning Hadron Collider.
It seems the original email we sent your way may have reached you in a parallel universe. If for some reason you receive a duplicate email over the next couple of days, we ask that you please disregard it.
Your Round Two Survey link is here. By clicking this link you agree to all the Terms and Conditions printed on our Recruitment Homepage. Your link will expire 48 hours after receipt of this email, so we urge you to finish your survey at your earliest convenience.
Also, please make sure your web browser is up to date, or some of the images may not display properly, and could result in skewed survey answers or blindness.
Thank you again for your interest in working for the National Eschatological Agency! We wish you luck on your Survey.
Sincerely,
The NEA Recruitment Team.
-----
Tom clicked the link:
Hello! Welcome to Round Two of the pre-pre-qualifying screening questionnaire. As in Round One, we will ask you a series of questions. Your answers will determine whether you advance to the next Round or, in some cases, on to the Field Training.
Best of luck!
Do you have history of epilepsy, seizures, or photosensitivity?
Yes
No
Tom clicked “No.” A message flashed on the screen:
Good!
Please prepare for the audio/visual segment of the survey. For best results we recommend using headphones, or increasing the volume on your computer speakers.
Tom already had headphones plugged in, so he slipped them on and clicked the “Continue” button.
His ears were immediately assaulted by a loud cacophony of crashing cymbals, industrial clanging and banging, a shriek that sounded like a cat thrown into a vinegar bath, a villainous cackle, chattering squirrels, and a barking dog. All at once.
He winced and was about to pull the headphones off when it stopped.
2) Was any part of that audio experience pleasant?
Yes
No
Tom clicked “No.” Another message popped up:
For the next segment, please type a short description for each of the following images. Your answers will be limited to 140 characters.
The screen blinked and then filled with a black and white image, like an inkblot test. There was a little text box at the bottom. Tom squinted at the image for a while. He didn’t really see anything in the image. Just swirls and splotches. Maybe it was supposed to be one of those magic eye posters?.
He took a deep breath, sat back in his chair, and let his eyes relax.
It worked! He typed BUFFALO RAKING HIS LAWN into the text box and pushed enter.
The screen switched to another, and after a few moments he typed his description: WORK BOOTS FILLED WITH A MASS OF ANGRY TENTACLES.
Then: FRIED EGG WITH CILANTRO SITTING ON A XYLOPHONE.
And: CELL PHONE TOWER SHOOTING LASERS AT A FURRY ASTEROID.
And finally: LEMON TREE WITH AN ANGRY MARMOT PERFORMING A WEDDING CEREMONY FOR TWO SEA CUCUMBERS.
The next message read: Thank you for your responses. Please continue to the personal essay portion of the survey.
Tom groaned and clicked the “continue” button. He’d never been good at essays. Especially the personal kind.
In one hundred words or less, please describe for us your perfect day…
Oh, god. What the heck was he supposed to write? This was why these kinds of essay questions sucked so bad. You never knew if you should just be honest, or try and figure out what the reviewer would want to read.
He stood and paced the room. He suddenly felt that his answers to the inkblots had been way too absurd. What the heck was he thinking? He probably came off like a crazy person! And now he was supposed to describe his perfect day?
What was the perfect day for an NEA employee? The perfect day for that fireman guy that Samantha had a crush on was probably way different than Tom’s perfect day. The fireman’s probably included grilling steaks and rescuing kittens. Maybe wrestling werewolves or something.
But hadn’t Tom rescued a kitten for Samantha? Hadn’t he jumped in front of a vampire a month or so ago?
Yeah! He had! He could be brave, as long as he didn’t think about it too hard, or psych himself out.
So maybe that was the trick here. Just don’t think about the answer. Try to imagine what kind of person he wanted to be, and answer the question accordingly.
He poised his fingers over the keyboard, closed his eyes, and started typing.
My perfect day. Well, it would start with a breakfast of sausage and eggs and a cup of coffee.
No. That was stupid. That was his normal day. What would his perfect day, as an NEA employee, look like?
He deleted it and started over.
My perfect day would start with me checking my equipment, making sure it was in working order. Then I would do 100 pushups and 100 situps and, if it was a weekday, 100 pullups.
Then I would determine what the specific dangers were that week, and research what precautions I would need to take to defend myself.
I would set myself a daily quota of rescues/assists and set out to meet or exceed that quota.
I would strive to comport myself with the utmost bravery and integrity and honor, putting the needs of others - especially women and children - before my own.
Then, before bed, I would eat a balanced meal and perform 100 pushups, situps, and (if it was a weekday) 100 pullups.
After eight hours of healthy, natural sleep, I would wake up and do the same thing the next day.
He finished typing and, before he could second-guess what he had written, he hit “Send.”
A message appeared on the screen: Thank you for submitting your survey. An NEA recruitment officer will contact you shortly.
Tom stood and stretched. He went to the window and looked out. The big brown spider was still hanging from the neighbor’s roof. He thought about what he had written.
In retrospect the whole thing sounded kind of naive. The sort of thing a kid would write while drawing pictures of knights in shining armor. The kind of kid who dreams of becoming a police officer and helping old ladies cross the street, or rescuing children from crashed buses, or saving hostages from international arms dealers.
He had all those dreams once, and then he grew up. Wasn’t that the way the world worked? You put away your childish ambitions and replaced them with practical ones?
Except that NEA fireman hadn’t given up his childish ambitions. He had probably had those very same fantasies as a kid and then grew up to live a life that fulfilled them. And now he got to wear a uniform and fight demons with holy
water. Hell, he was probably roaming around town with a big tank of insecticide on his back, slaying giant spiders and saving receptionists.
Tom balled his fists and walked into his garage. He didn’t have a vast tool collection, but there was a machete in there somewhere, maybe from the last zombie apocalypse. And he still had pieces of protective gear from the NEA packages.
He was going to cross the street and slay that stupid brown spider hanging from his neighbor’s stupid roof. That would be the start, and then he’d see what else he could accomplish.
A few minutes later he stood at his front door wearing a hardhat and various pieces of leather and plastic. He had his work boots on and his machete in hand. There was a bottle of ant-killer hanging from his belt. He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but figured it at least sting the spider a little.
He had to admit that his heart was beating a bit fast.
Spiders weren’t his favorite.
They were right below Sand Worms on his list of worst possible apocalypses.
But he was turning over a new leaf.
He jumped up and down a few times, then cracked his neck from side to side like he’d seen in a movie.
He opened the door slowly, then stepped out. The spider across the street pulled its legs in closer to its body.
It’s scared of me, Tom thought. It knows i’m coming for it.
Tom, however, hadn’t considered checking what might be hanging from his own roof.
Something fell on him from above, knocking him to the ground. There was a skittering of claws on the pavement, then a sudden weight on his back.
The last thing he felt were two sharp fangs pricking the back of his neck.
7
Weird Mist
Tom was still in the hospital when the Mist came. He had a private room, which was nice because it meant Samantha could stay as long as she wanted.