by Fuchs, A. P.
The idea of being forgotten by all who knew him stole his breath away.
The acrid stench of sharp smoke and burnt meat pierced his nostrils, immediately locking up his stomach, making him want to throw up.
He couldn’t.
The air burst into flame but there was no fire and Joe screamed from the pain ravaging through his system.
The heels of his boots hit rocky ground and he fell to his hands and knees.
Skin burning against the stone even through his trench coat, he bolted to his feet, panic racing through him.
The sweat coating every inch of him only made it worse, like scalding water on the skin.
“Garrrgh . . .” he breathed, his body throbbing in hot pulses, stinging, dying.
The pale glow of flame brewed in the distance, its expanse as far as his eyes could see to either side. The shrieks and screams rose from the fire and filled the air. Even where he stood, shaking, he could barely hear his own thoughts above their shouts of terror.
Whispers in the dark, somewhere behind him.
He turned around to face them and with a trembling hand tried to pull out the X-09. The hot metal of its handle bit into his palm when he tried to grab it and he had no choice but to leave it in its holster.
“Where . . . am I?” he barely managed. Even the breaths needed to speak were near unbearable as the intense heat on the air invaded his lungs, scorching the inside of his chest.
Coughing, he tried to make out the source of the whispers in the faint glow cast by the flames now behind him.
It was strange he could even hear these whispers above the calls and shouts of what sounded like countless people being burned alive.
Knees aching, he wanted to collapse but couldn’t find the will to do so. It was as if something was forcing him to stand there and endure.
A scaled foot appeared out of the shadows, then another then another until four creatures with long, bulbous arachnid bodies, their skin coated in dark green and black scales, appeared out of the dark. Long sinewy arms and legs ran off their torsos, ending with a pair of hands and feet with slender fingers and toes, each digit sporting a long dark claw. Black, leathery wings, each one tipped with a lead-like spike, draped over their muscled shoulders like capes.
Their eyes, rimmed with flaky skin, pale gray with blue irises, bore into him with hate, their glare enough to make him take several steps back.
He stepped on something and when he turned, standing before him were legions of these things, all lined up like a massive army, waiting to strike. Each one watched him.
The strength ran from his legs and whatever force had been holding him upright released. His knees smacked the hot stone floor with a resounding whack that echoed throughout his bones.
Palms sizzling against the hot floor, the stench of burning flesh filling his nose all the way to the back of his throat, he couldn’t find the strength to pull his hands up.
He was forced to let them burn.
Screaming, Joe tried calling out for help.
He couldn’t speak.
The creatures worked their way toward him, long, sinewy fingers outstretched, their claws tickling the air, as if already tasting the kill.
* * * *
August didn’t know how long he’d been on his hands and knees, shouting into the floor, calling for Joe.
Shaking, he got to his feet and took off for the stairs, hoping that Joe had just merely fallen through the main level and was lying on his back in one of the rooms below.
August searched every one of the rooms once he was downstairs.
Joe was nowhere to be found.
Screaming for Billie, August ran back to the stairwell and bounded up the steps.
* * * *
“It has begun,” the man in the white coat said.
“What?” Billie asked.
He took the watch, stuffed it in his coat pocket and grabbed her by the arm. With a violent push, he shoved her through the stall’s door, his body passing through it along with hers.
No one seemed to notice them as they emerged on the other side and Billie could only guess he had just somehow made himself invisible like her.
The ground shook, each vibration sending a shockwave of fear up Billie’s spine. The man in the coat squinted his eyes, flames licking their edges, his grip on her arm increasing.
“What’s—”
But he cut her off with a quick, “Shoosh.”
The man peered around the bank.
“Billie! Billie!”
She spun in the direction of the voice and was relieved to see August running through the people toward her.
The old man stopped short when he seemed to take note that the man in the white coat wasn’t just somebody she was standing beside but rather someone with flaming eyes who held her arm.
The man’s eyes darted in August’s direction. “August Norton,” the man said.
The old man’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.
The man with flaming eyes said, “You know who I am, don’t you?”
It took a moment, but August responded with a nod of the head. Like Billie had, the old man began to sink to his knees.
“Get up,” the man in the coat said and August instantly obeyed.
When August spoke, he could barely say the words. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He gazed upward. “It wasn’t my fault!”
The building’s quake finally ceased. A moment later, a loud rumble shook the place, but only Billie and August lost their footing. The man in the white coat stood there calmly, as if he had been expecting it. Everyone else was oblivious to it.
“My name is Nathaniel,” the man said.
August didn’t reply.
Nathaniel finally let go of Billie’s arm, the aftermath of his tight grip making her biceps ache.
Face white, August’s eyes glazed over.
“August?” Billie said.
The old man’s lower lip trembled.
Nathaniel’s eyes suddenly darted to the floor. A second later, it split apart.
Billie’s heart jumped at what began to come through.
40
The Escape
Nathaniel tossed Billie to August and the old man caught her as she collapsed in his arms. He pushed her up onto her feet and looked to the man in the bright white coat for a clue as to what to do next.
Nathaniel turned to him. “Go!” Then turned his attention back to the creatures climbing out of the tiled floor, their scaly limbs latching onto the floor and hauling themselves up like spiders trying to regain their footing. Otherworldly heat poured up from the floor, the tiles glowing red, the heat tingling through the bottoms of August’s shoes.
The sharp stench of sulfur reigned.
Ankles weak, legs void of strength, August stumbled as he tried to push Billie toward the parking lot.
Through the glass at the far end, the helicopter appeared different. The dark gray goop that had coated its hull was now light, nearly white, and though from this distance August couldn’t be sure, it appeared as if he could partially see through the helicopter to the cars parked on the other side of the lot.
Growls and roars filled the bank.
The building shook.
Screams roared from somewhere deep below.
Those who were solid and tangible went about their business as usual and August marveled that no one could sense the sudden presence of evil in this place.
That no one noticed the creatures with insectile bodies and leathery wings.
He urged Billie toward the window. They’d run through, emerge in the parking lot and see what was happening with the helicopter.
“Joe!” Billie shrieked and started to turn back but suddenly stopped and slammed into August.
He turned around.
The creatures poured out of the floor like wasps escaping their nest. They clung to the walls, dove on top of tables and chairs; they buzzed around the place like flies around a corpse.
&nbs
p; Cackles and cries drowned out the sound of everyday talking.
Nathaniel was gone.
* * * *
The creatures surrounding Joe had begun to ascend just moments ago. Relief washed over him because it appeared he wouldn’t be their prey.
More and more of the things emerged from the dark, their putrid stench of rotten fish and sour eggs twisting his stomach into a knot. He wanted to puke, but everything was locked inside, as if he wasn’t allowed even a moment’s rest.
The heat scorched his skin and the reality that this place was to be his permanent home terrified him somewhere deep inside.
His spirit.
Most of the creatures slinking out of the dark spread their black, leathery wings and ascended upward, but a few came toward him.
Long, bony fingers grabbed him from behind, their claws digging into his flesh through the thick fabric of his leather trench coat, hauling him backward, closer and closer to the lake of fire in the distance.
Unable to fight against them, unable to scream or do much of anything, the sudden sense that he failed something—someone—invaded him.
Pain soaked through his body; every molecule saturated in torment. He so desperately wanted to scream to help cope with the pain.
He couldn’t.
He had to endure.
Suddenly, he was tossed into the air and the bony fist of one of the creatures socked him in the face as he came back down. Green stars burst before his vision and before he even had a chance to clear his head and straighten his legs, another fist came and clocked him on the side of the head. He dropped to the hot ground and fell backward. A long and disjointed foot slammed down onto his ribcage, winding him. His ribs blazed in agony and another foot kicked him in the side of the head. Face numb, brain so dizzy he almost felt like a spectator to the massacre of his own body, he was suddenly jolted back to reality when sharp claws ripped into his thighs, digging in so deep they had enough of a hold on him that he was lifted into the air and thrown across the ground.
Screams shaking the air, he looked up and through hazy vision could make out light coming from somewhere above. White, beautiful light.
Suddenly, the light was eclipsed by the dark and disgusting forms of the creatures. Each one of their pale gray eyes pierced him, their harsh gaze filled with so much malice it made him cringe, the feeling of defeat overwhelming him.
Bony fingers with long, black claws reached for him.
Joe squeezed his eyes shut, preparing to be torn to pieces. April . . .
Light blinded his eyes and he couldn’t help but keep them closed, its radiance was so brilliant, like staring into the sun. He forced himself to roll onto his side. It was enough to dim the light just a little so he could open them.
White was everywhere.
As his eyes began to focus, the blurred image of a man in a white overcoat ripping into the creatures danced before him.
The man threw one to the side, kicked another and ripped the wing off yet another.
“Joseph Bailey,” the man said.
Joe curled up in a fetal position and covered his head. Shaking, adrenaline and fear wreaked havoc on his system. Dizziness and a dreamlike consciousness embraced his mind.
He called me ‘Joseph.’
Two strong bars of iron swept under his body and the sweet smell of clean air filled his nostrils. He opened his eyes. The smell wafted off the man like a fresh breeze.
The comfort lingered a moment but soon fled when he noticed the man’s eyes: bright and brilliant and aflame.
“This is what you deserve!” the man said and held out Joe, who was cradled in his arms, to the creatures advancing toward them like raptors about to pounce on their prey.
Then, gently, the man said, “But this is not your time.”
The man grew bright, shining like a star. The creatures quickly covered their haunting eyes with their leathery wings.
The man’s feet left the ground and they rose into the dark sky.
* * * *
“We have to find him! We have to!” Billie screamed at August.
“No!” he shouted and pushed her toward the window. “We have to leave. Right now!”
The building shook and brilliant white light filled the bank. The creatures flying around shrieked at the sudden light. Some fell from their places in the air.
Then the light faded and Nathaniel emerged through the floor, Joe in his arms.
“Joe!” Billie yelled and ran toward him.
Nathaniel set Joe down on rubbery legs and touched a hand to his forehead. “Go,” he said, “and remember what you saw, what you had experienced, but not until you have left this place.”
Suddenly Joe was able to stand on his own two feet. He looked at Nathaniel with childlike wonder.
The creatures’ shrill shrieks filled the room and the place shook again.
More poured out of the ground. There were so many it was difficult to see anything.
So relieved Joe was here and so afraid to stay a moment longer, Billie pulled Joe by the hand.
“Come on!” she shouted at him.
Joe just stood there, frozen.
Nathaniel turned to him once more. “Go, Joseph. And may the Lord be with you.”
He and Billie just stood there.
“GO!” Nathaniel shoved them toward August.
As they ran toward the window, Billie glanced over her shoulder.
A throng of creatures flew toward them.
Nathaniel spun, threw off his hat and coat, revealing himself for what he really was. Though she had never believed in them before, Billie believed in them now.
Angels.
Nathaniel’s long robe with a thousand folds was bronze like flame, a gold belt around his middle. Strapped across his back was an ornate silver shield inscribed with a language Billie didn’t understand. The man’s hair was a pillar of fire, his feet coated in bronze. White light burst from his eyes. His strong hand clasped the bronze hand guard of a sword hanging off his belt. He withdrew his sword and an electric tingle swept through the air, one dripping with authority and power. He brought the bright sliver blade high into the air. The blade burst into flame and he cut into the creatures without reserve.
August waved them forward as they ran toward him. “Come on, come on!”
He took Billie by the hand and the three of them ran through the people in a lineup in front of the ATMs by the door. They passed through the window and emerged in the parking lot beyond.
They came to a stop just in front of the helicopter. Panting for breath, Billie found herself unable to breathe when she saw the helicopter was only partly there, most of it transparent.
Growls filled the air behind them.
The creatures passed through the wall of the bank.
They were outside.
41
The Return
The creatures poured out of the building, flying straight toward them.
The three turned and ran for the helicopter, which was quickly fading from view.
Joe ran to the side door and when he took hold of it, he found it difficult to get a sound grip. Grabbing the handle was like trying to tightly grab a water balloon. It took two hands to latch onto it properly and it took Billie’s help once he couldn’t open the door on his own to slide it ajar along its tracks.
August got inside no problem, he having had left the cockpit door open.
They scrambled into the helicopter.
“Close it, close it!” Billie shouted and the two grabbed the inside door handle and slid the thing shut just as the creatures came for them.
“Take us up, August!” Joe said.
August tried working the controls. His fingers seemed to be passing through the buttons, but each time he touched them, Joe noticed, his fingers dematerialized on contact.
The creatures flew through the helicopter doors, invading the tiny space, swarming all around.
One grabbed hold of Joe.
Billie screamed somewher
e on the other side of the creature.
“Lord, help us!” August screamed.
Just then a flaming sword appeared and sliced through the air, cutting the creatures in two. Their scaly bodies fell to the ground and began to melt until they faded completely from existence.
Catching his breath, Joe peered out the window to see the man with fiery eyes standing next to the helicopter, sword ablaze.
Then the man faded from view, as did the bank, the parking lot and the brightness of the midday sun.
Darkness swelled inside the tiny cabin and Billie took Joe by the hand, squeezing his fingers in fear.
The air went cool and the world changed on the other side of the glass.
Gray clouds returned, filling the sky, bringing with them the sickening sense that they were back where they started: in an undead world.