by P. J. Day
Cindy narrowed her eyes. The glial cells or the gray portion of her brain, in layman’s terms, zipped, grinding out answers as they materialized from all that she’d learned. What she was starting to rationalize was something grand, something that she never thought she would uncover in her wildest dreams. “Shift? Wait a minute,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re telling me there was a cosmic shift from one god’s rule to another? Zeus, Jupiter, Apollo...they all existed?”
“Zeus was just a word to express a concept. The concept of the grand deity, or the father of gods. He was my ruler. While on earth we refer to him as Jrue, or Jrue of Pit. Pit is the plane from which I am from.”
“How can that be? I’m sorry, but this whole time I thought the concept of Greek or Roman gods was just mythology. It’s borderline comic book material. The myths are ridiculous,” said Cindy.
“Again, 1,500 years later and you creatures are still no different...dumb beasts.”
Cindy pointed her finger at Thalia. “Now, now, I’m not a dumb beast. I’ve made it here this far. If what you say is true, then the wool has been pulled over our eyes.”
“It is true. You have been fooled. Fooled for much too long. It’s too late, though. You are all being used. And when the harvest comes, my time will end and so will yours.”
“What’s the harvest? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned it. Please tell.”
“It is obvious you’re familiar with Constantine.”
“Yes...”
“Constantine the Great was Earth’s first mortal ruler who represented the Kingdom of Caeli. Adonai, the jealous, wrathful, and vengeful God of Caeli, who has been responsible for the decimation and harvesting of many a weaker plane, like the one you call Earth, used Constantine to shape the next 1,500 years in preparation for another harvest. Constantine received divine instruction from Adonai to form the council of Nicaea. From there, an instruction manual for mankind, for the subjugation of man and complete surrender was devised, called Ta Biblia.”
“Harvest? Why harvest humans?”
“Caeli needs souls for fuel. Without souls, Caeli ceases to exist. Mankind has reached critical mass in terms of a population of souls. Adonai’s reign is dependent on constant harvests. He defeated us, Jrue, and Pit for access to you. In the great war, Adonai’s Seraphim; grotesque, winged creations, slaughtered our ranks. The assassins of gods were unstoppable. Most of the great gods were destroyed. Jrue surrendered. We surrendered. However, in order to ensure the submissive existence of Pit, Jrue, and the remaining gods, I was sacrificed, and my status along with my blessings and gifts were used as tools for manipulation.”
Upon hearing the information bestowed upon her, Cindy lowered her head to the ground in exhaustion. She looked up at Thalia while on the ground on all fours. “I can’t breathe.”
“I knew it would be too much. You’ve all been in the dark for so long. Riddled with doubt.”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Cindy said, fighting off her gag reflex as best she could. “This can’t be. Tell me you’re lying to me. Please, Thalia. For the first time in my life, I hope I’m being deceived.”
“There is no deceit from me. You asked for the truth and I gave it.”
“What about Adonai’s son? The one he sent down as a fleshed representative of himself, but benevolent, pure of heart. He preached forgiveness, love; there is no way he was a tool of manipulation. There must be something more here,” Cindy prayed for clarity.
“Adonai’s representation of flesh, his son whom he sent down to supposedly absorb man’s inequity, is the grand bargain,” Thalia said. “An impossible bargain that man could never achieve. He was a fleshed mirage. Constantine’s blueprint does indeed say that only a handful shall be accepted into Caeli. The grand bargain is nothing but a lottery. A divine blueprint that requires the impossible from humanity, especially if my blessings are used to deceive mankind. They’ve used my gifts of self-expression to mirror the worst of humanity, a constant stream of inequity through film, stage, music, and literature. I’ve seen what they’ve done from Shakespeare, to stage, to film, and to television. Man evolved to mimic, whether subconsciously or consciously. It is how you learned to be curious; it is how you learned to come down from the trees to create tools, to walk upright, to find the gods in the heavens. Adonai knew that my blessings and gifts were the best way to reach the gods, but then they imprisoned me and used me to create a mirror for man’s sinful nature. They used my gifts to make sure that they could harvest the greatest amount of souls. That is why the harvest is taking place in Hollywood. That is why they used the genius of the Horsley Brothers to establish the first film studio in Los Angeles, a place where they could produce films subtly displaying man’s dark nature year-round, while keeping pace with man’s technological advancement. The Horsley Brothers were among the few, the 144,000 that were promised salvation, only if they sacrificed their careers for Adonai. That is why they’re buried under my shrine. When the harvest comes, it begins in Hollywood. The trumpet has sounded. It’s just a matter of time before we are all absorbed.”
Cindy wept. Her tears were sucked up by the dry and thirsty rocks that needled her knees. “I need to find my friend. I don’t want to die alone.”
“I’m sorry, Cindy,” Thalia said, compassion filling her voice. “I have faced the prospect of dying alone for more than a millennium. There is peace in a future of nothingness.”
“There has to be a way to stop this.”
“Unless humanity becomes instantly self-aware, collectively, and finds out a way to fight back against their tiller, you will all perish.”
Cindy wailed on the floor, clearly unprepared for the end of the world. “Is there any way I’m one of the chosen few who will continue their existence in Caeli?”
“Only the purest of heart are guaranteed a place in Caeli. There have been approximately 106 billion souls born since the transition between Adonai and Jrue. According to Adonai’s blueprint, only 144,000 will be allowed into Caeli, the rest, an overwhelming number of souls, will be harvested to keep Caeli going for the next few thousand years. Adonai will use that time to continue to search for its next host.”
“Is there a way I can go back? I need to let everyone know, please help me get back”
“Cindy, you’re in purgatory. You are no longer part of Earth’s plane. The top of your skull cracked open against the glass of my enclosure. Your companion weeps as he holds your lifeless body in his arms. You are dead.”
Cindy looked at her arms. She caressed them. Her eyes watered. Despite being told that she was deceased, the tears, the touch, and the goose bumps on her skin felt the same as if she were still alive. She asked Thalia, “What if I jump off this rock?”
“I don’t know what will happen.”
Cindy became restless. “There has to be a way out.”
“You are dead. Death is absolute.”
“There’s always a way out,” Cindy said. “I’ve learned that there is always an escape. How do you think I got to you?”
Chapter Thirty-two:
The Pit
Cesar cried for help. His scratched and bruised upper torso was the only part of him that was visible, as his lower half was concealed and crushed underneath the pulverized concrete of the once proud and historic arena floor.
“Someone, please...” he bawled. Cesar couldn’t grip the stone that surrounded him. His hands were still laced up with blue boxing gloves. “Dad?” he yelped. “Dad, can you hear me?”
Ramiro, his father, was dead, his body buried underneath a half-ton piece of concrete. A boxing dynasty that was built up through years of achievement and merit had been cut down and spat upon in a matter of seconds.
Across from Cesar, Matt emerged from a pile of rubble. His gold hair was covered in gray dust. He ripped off the laces on his gloves with his teeth and began rummaging through the rubble, desperately searching for Keelen. “Keelen, say something...where are you?”
During the fall, a chunk of concrete had hit his forearm, causing him to lose his protective grip. “Keelen...baby...come on...can you hear me?” he asked, panic straining his voice.
“Hey, Matt...Matt?” said Cesar’s voice. Lost was his inflection of confidence. “No hard feelings, man. Get me out of here. Help me find my dad, please.”
Matt heard Cesar’s voice; he looked around but could not locate the whereabouts of his rival. He stared up at the large gash above his head and loudly said, “Wait, all right? I can’t find my girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry for all my shit-talkin’, man. I was intimidated by you. It was the only way I could handle the stress of the fight,” Cesar replied, hoping that his conciliatory appeal would sway Matt from his focused search.
Matt ignored Cesar’s cries for help. He hunched over and overturned every piece of concrete he could get his hands on. Underneath a 10-foot slab, he uncovered an unconscious Hanz Ratliff. His once-elegant uniform was shredded, but his handsome face intact. Matt gently slapped Hanz’s cheek. “You there? Hey...hey...can you hear me?” Matt leaned in and checked for a breath. There was none. He noticed and snagged the standard issue from Hanz’ rhinestone holster. He checked the magazine. It was still full.
Matt surveyed the uneven piles of downed cement. He spotted Cesar buried on the other side of the cavernous pit. Cesar made eye contact and reached out with his arm. “Please, help,” he pleaded, desperation dulling his brown eyes.
Matt scanned his proximity furiously for Keelen one last time before rushing to Cesar’s aid. He stood over Cesar and lifted two pieces of concrete off Cesar’s lower body. He grimaced at the extent of his injuries.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cesar.
Cesar’s legs were crushed.
“Listen, you’re going to have to wait for rescue to come get you. It wouldn’t be wise if I picked you up,” Matt said.
Still in shock and adrenaline subduing his pain, Cesar thought Matt was still holding a grudge. “Get me out of here, please. Like I said, I’m sorry.”
Matt crouched, meeting Cesar at eye level. “If I move you, I could hurt you even more, do you understand?”
Cesar nodded as his eyes watered heavily. He wiggled his upper back and then howled in anguish as the pain settled in.
Matt placed his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move. Just stay put. I need to look for more survivors.”
Cesar pulled his lips back and muttered from behind his clenched teeth, “All right, just don’t forget about me, please.”
Matt stood up from his crouch and proceeded to call loudly, “Keelen!” His voice bounced off the cavern’s seemingly ancient walls, whose alien masonry and exotic brickwork made Matt feel like he was on a different planet.
“Matt?” the familiar and faint voice asked from behind a pile of rubble. “I’m over here,” she said.
Matt rushed to the other side of the pit and found Keelen sitting down, blood trickling from her head down the side of her face. He bent down and inspected her scalp. “It’s a small gash. Can you stand up?”
“I think so,” she said. “I think I blacked out.”
Keelen wobbled upright. Matt caught her, as she almost tumbled down the pile of rubble.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Matt said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. An old subway, maybe?”
“I don’t think L.A. had subways this old,” Keelen said.
Up above, Adam, who was leaning over the precipice, yelled into the chasm, “Theolodus!”
Matt looked up and yelled back. “Hey, we need to be lifted out of here. I have two very hurt people, and there might be more underneath the rubble.”
“Theolodus, speak if that is you?”
“I have no idea who Theolodus is,” Matt shot back. “He might be down here, I don’t know. Just get help, please.”
Adam sat back, away from the edge of the chasm and fussed to himself, “I gotta get down there.”
Soon after their exchange, flashes of static illuminated the cavern. The tapping of claws surrounded the survivors, as if a colony of rats was coming out from beneath the downed concrete.
“What is that?” Keelen asked.
“I don’t know,” Matt said, his eyes darting around the cavern, trying to make sense of the incessant flickering and ticking clamor.
The sound of synthesized hissing and growling filled Keelen, Matt, and Cesar with panic. Melding with shadow, two demonic forms flitted out from the darkness, suddenly appearing a few meters in front of them, like tangible, dream-like hallucinations. Matt gripped the pistol and pressed the grip safety with his thumb, lowering the hammer.
“Back off!” Matt yelled at the faceless, winged creatures, pointing the pistol at them with a trembling hand.
One of the Seraph’s hisses modulated into speech. “Nothing will stand in the way of the Prophecy. What is your plan, Theolodus?”
Matt barked at the winged creature, “Who the hell is Theolodus? I’m not him. What are you?”
“I sense your presence, Theolodus,” rasped the Seraph, pacing back and forth in front of where Matt and Keelen stood. “Israfel said you would be here. Your presence alone goes against the Concord. The instability you have caused is your indictment.”
“I don’t know what the hell you are, but you better back the hell off” yelled Matt, as fear and confusion tugged at his senses. Keelen stepped out from behind Matt to confront the Seraphs. “He is not Theolodus. Let us be, please.”
“You survived the fall. No mortal is capable of such a feat,” said the creature, inching closer to Keelen and Matt.
Adam lowered himself down into the chasm and used short bursts of energy to counteract the careening effects of his large body as he traversed the multiple terraces of jutting concrete and mangled, oxidized spears of rebar. With surprising swiftness, he landed behind the commotion of creatures and victims.
He waddled through the shadows, observing the Seraphs tiger-like movements, as they circled the hapless victims. He doubted his brother was down there with him.
A glint from the pistol in Matt’s shaky hand caught Adam’s eye, and he immediately figured if Theolodus had been dragged into the abyss along with the rubble, he would’ve ripped at least one of the creatures into shreds by now.
The Seraphs were not supposed to be at the arena. Israfel must have informed the winged guardians that Theolodus would be at the fight. Words had been exchanged, promises made. Hunting down his brother in cold blood wasn’t part of the agreement. A betrayal. One he should have predicted from the moment he wet his lips before conversing with Israfel.
Adam stepped out of the shadows and confronted the creatures. “Howdy,” he greeted with a smirk. “What makes you think you can crash my party?”
Both creatures swayed their heads.
“My brother is coming with me. Israfel agreed that was the deal.”
“You are a fool, Lelantos. The Concord has already been broken. The disruptions up above are of your kin’s making. Stand out of the way. Return to Pit or suffer the same fate.”
“Well, I can assure you that man over there, holding the gun, is not Theolodus,” gestured Adam.
The annoyed beast bared its tiny teeth. “He’s here, Lelantos. Our bestowed and divine precognition has assured us of your brother’s presence.”
Adam looked around the cavern, then he pointed at Matt, approaching him with a casual and cavalier saunter. “This guy right here?” said Adam. “My brother would’ve downed one of you by now, and not with this peashooter.” He leaned in close to Matt’s dusted face, who was still pointing the gun at the Seraphs.
“You’re that editor dude, right?” asked Matt, his eyes still bulging out, ogling the demons behind Adam.
“Yes, I am,” Adam said, as he placed his hand on Matt’s shoulder, attempting to calm his nerves. “If you want out of here alive, answer my question, where is Logan Drake?”
Keelen immediately responded
with a slight whisper, “He couldn’t make it to the fight. We don’t know where he is.”
“If you don’t want to be shredded into demon kibble, you let me know where he is,” said Adam, with urgency in his voice. “The Seraphs think he’s here.”
“What do you want with him?” asked Keelen.
“He’s my brother.”
“He never told me he had a brother,” said Keelen, confused.
“Sweetie, it’s obvious he hasn’t told you a lot of things. Now, where is he?”
Matt looked at Keelen. “Come on, just tell him where he is, please.”
“No,” Keelen said. “Tell us what the hell is going on. What are these things? You look like you could reason with them.”
“As you can tell by the size of their claws, they’re not built for diplomacy or negotiations. Just tell me where he is or where you last saw him and I can work on getting you both out of here alive.”
Keelen stood stoically. Revealing Logan’s whereabouts to a larger-than-life character, who claimed to be his brother, after Logan had asked for her trust, was a difficult decision, and one that tested her loyalty. She shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I promised him I wouldn’t.”
Matt sighed. “Are you kidding me?”
Adam smirked. He then turned around and faced the Seraphs. “They don’t know where he is,” he shrugged.
“Step out of the way, infidel. We will interrogate,” the Seraph said, accosting Matt and Keelen, who were pinned against the wall.
Keelen’s frightened and narrowed eyes widened as she focused toward the back of the cavern. A slim figure emerged from the darkness. His gait was smooth, controlled, and confident. The hair on his head had that elegant, but messy lift. Both full and dark. Together, Matt and Keelen called out his name as he stalked the Seraphs from behind. “Logan?”