by Barry Reese
Max cursed under his breath, realizing that his vision was soon to come to pass. He strained his memory, trying to find something in his vision that might give him a clue as to where they might have taken Kenneth. And then he saw it, something so small that he had almost missed it. Through one of the shaded windows, he’d caught a glimpse of a marquee from across the street. The Douglass Theatre, it had read… and Max knew where that was.
Throughout the 1920s, the Theatre had been the premier movie house for blacks in Macon, Georgia. Even now it was still home to many musical and theatrical performances.
“Max?” Evelyn prompted. “Are you listening to me?”
Max looked around until he spotted his mask. He walked over and held it in his hands. “I’ll get him back, Evelyn. The world depends on it.”
Evelyn looked confused. “The world…?”
Max glanced towards Leonid, who was looking stern. “Hell on Earth, Leo. That’s what the Cabal wants. Hell on Earth.”
CHAPTER VII
The Oblivion Gates
Christmas Eve and Gloria was spending it in the arms of a man she barely knew.
They’d arrived in Macon just over an hour ago and she’d reluctantly allowed a friend of Keane’s to take the baby off to sleep until sundown. She’d hated to do it, being naturally protective of the child but the promise of desire in Keane’s eyes had overcome her suspicions.
He’d led her to his private room, which was sparsely furnished. All her questions as to the nature of this place and the odd men who shared it with him were quietly brushed aside.
It had been her first time with a man and as she lay on her back now, covered in sweat, she wasn’t sure what to make of the experience. He’d been so gentle at first, caressing her and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. But once he’d had her stripped, he’d changed somehow, becoming much more dominating. He’d taken her roughly and she was certain that she was bruised in her nethers, for they ached fiercely.
Keane was sitting up in bed, wearing only a white shirt and tie. He’d never bothered to completely undress. He lit a cigarette and blew out smoke, looking at her with amusement. “Liked that, did you?”
Gloria’s cheeks burned with shame and she pulled the covers of his bed up to hide her nakedness. “Don’t look at me like that. Please.”
“I’ll look at you any damn way I like,” Keane snapped. “The Baroness said you had your uses but I doubt she ever got to see your true talents like I did. Or did she?”
Gloria’s eyes widened at his hurtful implication and she immediately responded by shouting “I loved the Baroness! She was like a mother to me!”
“She didn’t share the same feelings for you, believe me. She planned to kill you as soon as that baby was old enough to fend for itself. She even said she’d let you be Kenneth’s first kill!”
“You’re lying,” she whispered, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. What had happened to the man who’d seemed so nice to her?
Keane took another drag on his cigarette before stamping it out on the nightstand. He rolled over on top of her, pinning her arms in place. “It’s the truth, you little bitch.”
Gloria struggled but to no avail. Her screams went ignored by the rest of the Inner Circle.
* * *
Dr. Zero stared at the motionless form of the vampire infant. Since it was daylight, the child gave every impression that it was dead. But once the sun dropped from the sky and the world became one of night, he would stir and grow hungry once more.
A zombie moved slowly around the room, ignoring both infant and Zero. It was kept from its murderous hunger through a complex series of spells, binding it to Zero’s will. It would feed only when he gave the order to do so, thus allowing him to keep his undead army at close quarters.
Zero looked at the zombie and sighed. All his life he’d been obsessed with the mysteries of life and death. Fear of what lay beyond the grave had driven him to seek mastery over death and that pursuit had eventually given him dominion over the zombies. But they were imperfect at best. The zombies were ultimately more dead than alive, being nothing more than reanimated corpses with the most basic of desires.
But this infant…! It was both alive and dead, in seemingly equal amounts. If Zero could use this child to open the Oblivion Gates, the creatures from beyond would view him as a savior and would no doubt help him in replicating whatever spell had transformed this baby into a member of the undead.
Zero still remembered when he’d discovered the existence of the Gates, each detail of that day burned into his memory forevermore.
He’d traveled through the Far East for several months, digging through every opium den and Tong stronghold he could fine, seeking a man called the Revenant. It was said that he’d crossed over to the land of the dead and fought his way free once more. He’d done this through something called an Oblivion Gate, a barrier that kept the hungry undead from flooding into our world.
Zero had found him in a dirty hotel room in Bangkok, stoned out of his mind, with two half-dead prostitutes lying in the corners, ignoring their own filth. Revenant was painfully thin and wore only a thin garment that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in months, if ever.
Zero had stood over him for several moments before speaking. He was disappointed by what he saw and wasn’t certain he should proceed. But he wanted to know what the man had seen… he wanted to understand.
He’d nudged Revenant with the toe of his boots. “Wake up,” he said in broken Chinese.
Revenant opened one eye and peered up at him, opening his mouth in a toothless leer. “You are the American. The one who courts death.”
Zero had blinked in surprise, not only at the fact that Revenant knew him but that he spoke perfect English. Returning to his native language, Zero had asked “How do you know me?”
“The Shambling Ones told me you would come. They said you would be the one to open the gates completely and let them return.”
“But… you opened the gate. Didn’t you?”
“I stumbled through.” Revenant sat up and Zero noticed flies buzzing bout the other man’s face. He smelled like rotting flesh. “But you… you will fling the door open wide. Only one man a century has the ability to do that. But you cannot do it without the half-dead child.” And then he recited the prophecy that Zero had come to know by heart:
“And it is said that in the days of fire and strife, the child of life and death shall utter his first cries. His arrival shall signal that the time is right for the gates of oblivion to be flung open and the spirits of the dead to claim what is rightfully theirs. The Shambling Ones shall feed and mankind shall crumble to their knees, begging for salvation.”
Zero had stared at him in shock, not knowing what to make of these words. While he’d struggled to find his voice, Revenant had reached under a pillow and extracted a small bundle. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing two things: more drugs and a dirty knife.
“The Gates,” Revenant continued, helping himself to another hit in between words, “are ancient things, erected to keep the Shambling Ones at bay. They are older than humanity and have always coveted our world. The Gods decided that the realms of the living and the dead should no longer mix and so the Shambling Ones were pushed aside and locked in a realm with no living flesh upon which to feed.”
“Feed…? So they’re zombies of some kind?” Zero had managed to ask.
“The things created by man are but the least of what the Shambling Ones can be. They think. They are clever. And they want our world. Open the gates and they will return, mixing the worlds of life and death forevermore. They promise you great rewards.”
“They let you go, didn’t they? So you could tell me this?”
Revenant laughed merrily then and Zero wondered if all that he was saying was the product of madness. Or was there truth behind those glazed eyes? “I will do more than tell you. I will show you. They say you cannot be the one who will free them until you understand the notion of pain as beauty
.”
“I… what are you talking about?”
Revenant had plucked up the knife and thrown himself upon Zero before the other man had even realized he was in danger.
What came next was not only painful but enlightening. For in that terrible moment when he was scarred forever, Zero saw the Shambling Ones, lurking at the edge of his vision, just beyond the normal range of human sight. They were horrible and awe-inspiring all at once, reinforcing something that had always known: if that was death, he wanted no part of it. He had to avoid it. And if avoiding it meant sacrificing the rest of humanity to the Shambling Ones, it was a price worth paying.
* * *
Keane approached Zero cautiously, noting that his master was lost in thought. It would be so easy to strike him down and lay claim to the leadership of the Cabal… but what if there were things Zero had not shared with him? What if he knew of a way to control the Shambling Ones that Keane would not?
Zero turned then, making such thoughts moot for the moment. “You stink of sex,” the Cabal’s leader said disdainfully. “Did you know that some call orgasms the little death?”
“So I’ve heard. It’s almost nightfall. When do we begin?”
“Did you kill the girl?”
“Yes, but not before I enjoyed her a bit.”
Zero sighed. He had planned on using the girl as an offering for the Shambling Ones upon their arrival. Now he would have to look elsewhere for such. “As soon as the child awakens, we will begin the ceremony. Go and gather the rest of the Inner Circle. All of us should be together when the new lords of humanity arrive to claim their collective thrones.”
Keane nodded briskly, hurrying to do as he was told. Within a few hours, the entire world would be plunged into a new era of darkness. And he would be among the special few who would retain his freedom.
He just had to make sure that Zero didn’t turn on him first.
CHAPTER VIII
A Bloody Christmas
“Evelyn wanted to come with us.”
Max didn’t answer at first, viewing Flynn’s comment as being one that didn’t require a response. The Peregrine’s wife had been beside herself when he’d told her the details about his vision and it had taken all his persuasive abilities to convince her that she should stay with little William. Besides, he had reasoned, with both Kaslov and Flynn at his side, the Peregrine should be able to handle the situation easily enough.
Or so he hoped.
Truth be told, he wasn’t at all sure what would be awaiting them. The vision he’d seen had been a dire one but it had left out many details: How many people would be guarding the place? What abilities would they possess? And what would happen if the Peregrine failed and the gates were fully and completely thrown open?
The three men stood in the growing shadows outside the Douglass Theatre, ignoring the stares they attracted from the establishment’s mostly black clientele. Max didn’t wear his mask but was otherwise garbed in his usual adventuring attire: a dark suit and tie with a long overcoat covering them both. There was a definite chill to the air and Max could see little clouds of smoke coming from his mouth as he spoke, raising his voice so it could be heard over the Gospel music coming from within. The Christmas Eve special events were just getting underway and the crowd was a large one. “Leo… did you manage to find any references to those things I saw in my vision?”
The broad-shouldered Russian nodded, standing nearby with arms crossed over his massive chest. He was dressed in lighter clothing than his friends, due to the fact that what passed for winter in the deep south was nothing to him. “I found several possibilities, Max… but the one that’s most likely is known as the Oblivion Gates prophecy. It’s said that if a child of both life and death is sacrificed by a true believer, the Gates will open and a race of beings known as the Shambling Ones will enter. Of course, I may be wrong in my estimation and this could be something completely different.”
“That’s a rare occurrence,” Flynn muttered good-naturedly. Max was struck once more by how similar the man was to his own friend McKenzie—both seemed incapable of being fazed by the darkness of their existence. They remained unflappable no matter what they were confronted with.
Max envied them.
“We should get going,” Max said, striding across the street. His friends moved to keep pace, barely noticing that Max had retrieved his mask and was affixing it to his face. “Mr. Flynn, if you don’t mind, please use the front door. Make as much noise as possible. Leo, will you handle the rooftop entrance?”
“Of course. And what about you?”
Max smiled coldly, eyes fixed on one of the main windows, from which a flickering candlelight could be seen. “I’m going to make a more dramatic arrival, Leo. One that should throw them for a bit of a loop.”
On cue, the sound of a low-flying airplane sliced through the air and Leonid looked up to see a small remote control craft bank over the nearby rooftops and begin a skimming run over the city streets. As men and women scrambled about in a panic, a ladder dropped from the bottom of the plane and Max jumped upwards to grab hold. The place began to ascend again, bringing Max to the same level as the window. The Peregrine drew his pistol and took aim.
“Let’s not leave him hanging,” Leo remarked, rushing towards a fire escape so that he could take to the roof.
It took Flynn a second to realize his friend’s humor. Grinning, he moved towards the front door. The sounds of gunfire echoed far and wide.
* * *
The baby had awakened with a powerful hunger. It had twisted and fought in the grip of the zombies who bound it to the altar, their own powerful desire to chew upon the infant’s flesh blocked out by Dr. Zero’s control over their minds. Little Kenneth screamed in a mournful manner, wondering where its mother or its caregivers were. How could they let him be treated like this?
Keane tried to ignore the screaming but it grated on his nerves tremendously. The room was in full preparation now, with a large pentagram dominating the center of the floor. In the middle of this rested young Kenneth, writhing and turning upon the altar. The Inner Circle licked their lips expectantly, dancing from foot to foot as Dr. Zero approached the pentagram, knife in hand. The only illumination in the room came from a series of candelabras that ringed the walls, with a half dozen or so of the undead milling about the flames, like curious moths.
Zero turned to address the assembled group, wearing a newly acquired face. It had belonged to a young man who sold his body on the streets of Atlanta in exchange for opium… Keane felt no sorrow for this youth whose life had gone so far off the rails, however. He merely wanted to get these proceedings underway so that he might greet his new masters at last.
“My friends,” Zero began, “We stand on the threshold of a new beginning. While dictators and fascists may believe the world will be theirs within a few years, it is we and the Shambling Ones who shall truly usher in a thousand years of pain and suffering. All of you will be rewarded for your true faith.”
Zero turned back to the infant, raising the knife high in the air. The candlelight flickered off its blade. “Arcannum nahtu oblivius! Sekhu nemorrium blahndeye! Oblivus entrancum! Oblivus!”
As Zero’s voice rose, filling the chamber until it echoed from the ceiling, Keane felt a change come over the room. The air seemed to crackle with static electricity and tiny sparks of light began to appear over the altar, brought forth by the fraying of the walls between the worlds of the living and the dead.
Just as the blade flashed downwards, the window behind Keane exploded inwards. Keane fell to the floor in a panic, several of the Inner Circle near him dancing madly as bullets tore into their bodies. The necromancer looked up to see a familiar figure—the Peregrine—suspended from beneath a low-flying plane of some kind. In seconds, the Peregrine had launched himself through the air, landing in crouch inside the room. Glass crunched beneath the vigilante’s boots as he swept the place from one corner to the next. Men and women died while the zombies
were felled by well-placed shots to their brains.
Dimly, Keane was aware of other gunshots, from elsewhere in the building. The sudden appearance of a zombie hurtling past the shattered window, on a downward spiral from the rooftop, confirmed his suspicions: they were under attack from a multiple of fronts.
Keane slipped towards the shadows, looking towards Zero. The man’s aim had gone askew when the shooting hand begun, saving the unnatural life of young Kenneth. The knife had cut through part of the vampire child’s right shoulder, eliciting further wails of agony but not ending his existence.
The drops of blood that had been spilled seemed to be enough, however, to open a small rift to the other side. Something large was pushing its way through, but not even Keane could keep his eyes upon it. It was awful, beyond imagining… its skin was flayed in places, revealing dripping red meat and its face was mostly bone, with sunken orbs for eyes.
The Peregrine took one look at this creature and knew that no more of its ilk could be allowed through. He fired his pistols again, blasting the knife from Zero’s hands and sending the killer staggering back in alarm.
Zero fell directly into the grasp of the Shambling One. He twisted to face his disgusting master, who wrapped his arms around him in a mockery of a loving embrace.
“I freed you!” Zero exclaimed. “Now you’ll protect me… now you’ll make sure that I never die!”
Something like laughter came from the awful thing’s throat and it leaned forward, tearing into Zero’s neck like a wild dog attacking road kill. Blood splattered the front of Zero’s clothing and he sagged to his knees, horribly realizing his mistake. He’d been lied to… abused… and now he would face the darkness beyond this world.
Max saw the murder taking place before him but did nothing to stop it. It was a fitting end for a man who had courted death for far too long, from the looks of it. Instead he moved forward cautiously, picking up Kenneth from the altar and offering the child a small vial of reddish fluid that he’d carried for this precise purpose. The baby hungrily lapped at the blood, clinging tightly to his protector.