The Seventh Age: Dawn

by Rick Heinz

  Mike rummaged through his fridge and pulled out a slice of pizza from an old box. It was the only choice he had. He picked up the cat carrier and set it in his closet and slipped the piece of pizza in between the bars. “Full of bad manners, you bite, you come from the pits of hell, and you smell like shit. You need some cheer in your life. A good foot forward makes all the difference. I’m going to call you Sparkles from now on.” Mike closed the closet door and plopped on his bed. Four ghosts curled up next to him, one of them smaller than the rest.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Wake up!”

  Mike felt someone shaking him. His eyes opened in panic, and he braced himself against the bed as if the world were ending.

  “Wake up, Mike. We gotta go. Shit hit the fan,” Officer Matsen said.

  “It’s morning . . . coffee . . . gotta feed . . . Sparkles. Crap, there’s a fucking demon in my closet!” Mike said running his hand over his face as he stifled a yawn. What the hell? Last night. The past few days. I’m spinning. Get it together. You’re alive, right?

  “Sparkles? Tell me you didn’t name it. No, wait, I know the answer. You named it. You idiot. Grab it,” Matsen said as she was thrusting clothes and stuff in one of Mike’s backpacks. “We gotta go. Now!” Mike had not seen her so pale before. She wasn’t kidding around, and her voice trembled as she spoke. Something was wrong.

  Mike got his act together as fast as he could manage. It was dusk. He slept through an entire day, an occurrence becoming all the more common. I take it I’m fired by now. Lifetime gas station attendant, here I come. Hmm, screw that. Taco salesman. He opened the closet to grab Sparkles, both disappointed and relieved that the imp was still in its carrier. It had also eaten the pizza. “If you like pizza, you and I are going to get along just fine. You can’t be evil if you like pizza. That’s the new rule.” Mike turned around to Matsen. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s all over the police scanner. Once the sun set, rabid dog attacks started pouring in. Instead of German shepherds, they’re three-headed hellhounds. Your time for a choice is over. We gotta meet with the boss. This can boil over quickly out of our control. There are a few million people in Chicago, and trust me—YouTube is not our friend. We don’t have much time,” she said.

  Mike followed her outside, remembering to grab his earlier kit of mayhem. Winters was already in the black police cruiser. “I take it calling shotgun is out of the question?” Mike held his smile back as he looked down the street.

  The moon sat fat and large on the horizon, its color a shade of deep lilac purple, so large Mike felt he could hug it. From the moon’s direction, clouds reached out like six fingers across the sky to the other side. The dying rays of sun, a quickly fading crimson. Mike saw winged creatures, flying in the sky.

  Matsen caught him looking up. “Relax. Not everyone can see the way we can,” she said.

  “Tonight’s not going to be a good night, is it?” Mike asked.

  She shook her head and got in the car. Mike took one last look at the moon and followed. Winters hit the gas pedal almost immediately. “We need to take a detour. While you were inside, a call came over the radio. Hellhounds have been sighted around the United Center, and there is a game going on. Boss has already mobilized everyone else,” Winters said. He turned up the police radio.

  Nobody in the car, not even Mike, felt like talking as the radio reports streamed in: An attack by a mutant dog on the north side that killed four. A home invasion where people locked themselves in the bathroom with crazy ugly cats clawing at the door. A neighbor calling in that the next-door neighbors were on their knees praying in the yard, covered in blood. Calls about people being attacked and eaten by rabid dogs kept coming in. One after another.

  Mike unpacked his smokes in the backseat and put one in his mouth. Chill, man. Just get ready. Straightening his bandanna and putting his gloves on helped him focus. Another report blasted on the tiny radio. Officer down. Medical requested. Sinkholes were forming, causing accidents. Mike couldn’t take the silence anymore.

  “You know we’ve seen this movie before, right?” Mike asked. “Some douchebag flips the switch and releases all the ghosts into the world. So it’s important to remember that as we go through this, if someone asks you, ‘Are you a god?’ you say yes.” Looking out the window, he saw a figure dash into shadow. “Hey, over there!”

  They were near the United Center, in a neighborhood that had run-down houses placed so close to each other Winters could touch both at once without stretching his arms out. Fate was on their side at least; there did not seem to be anyone outside. The police cruiser came to a roll, gliding through the night like a mountain cat stalking its prey. All of them looked out the windows for a sign. There. Matsen flashed a spotlight at the same spot. She saw it as well.

  A red-and-black dog with a beak for a nose and bony whips protruding from the base of its skull. It growled at them and narrowed its eyes while it backed away from the light into the narrow gap between houses. Just like the little ones last night, it was afraid of the light.

  Matsen didn’t hesitate as she got out of the car and started shooting. Her aim was exceptional. Three shots fired, one in each eye and one in the forehead. The hellhound crumpled to the ground. Mike started to run closer to it before Winters grabbed him and pointed over to Matsen. She took a few more measured steps closer, firing three more shots with bull’s-eye accuracy.

  “Okay,” she said. “It’s down.” Mike noticed that her eyes seemed to emit a soft glow when she turned back.

  “I kinda figured demon hounds would be a little stronger,” Mike said.

  “That makes two of us,” she said.

  They walked single file in between the houses, Mike bringing up the rear. Winters was a giant man, near impossible to see around. Mike had to climb up a bit by putting his feet on one wall and back on another to see over. The hellhound was falling apart, into ash, rather, crumpling in on itself like it was burned from the inside out. Matsen kneeled down in front and was working some of the ash between her fingers.

  “At least this makes cleanup a cinch,” Mike said. From where he was perched, he could see out over the fence behind the houses. The United Center was in the distance, the stadium illuminated with symbols of sports teams. Mike felt a wave of relief wash over him. That place is so well lit these things would never get near it. It was not a feeling that lasted long. Between them and the United Center stood an abandoned parking lot without any lighting. It had contained a row of houses that were torn down. Mike could see an entire pack of the hellhounds in a circle growling and snapping at each other, their bony spines digging at the ground and scratching.

  “How many more bullets do you guys have?” Mike asked.

  Winters looked up at him and smiled. “Enough.”

  “Let me guess, behind that fence there is a bunch of them,” Matsen said.

  “Yup! They are doing something, like clawing at the dirt. Maybe trying to find a place to hide during the day?” Mike said.

  “Hey, Winters, go get the shotguns. We can take care of this,” Matsen said.

  Mike shimmied up higher to allow Winters to walk underneath him. A sharp squeal and whimpering came from the back of the car. Mike realized the door was still open. Mike could see the cage he had Sparkles in, now rolled over onto the floor. It was shaking, and tiny hands from the imp rattled the bars, trying to undo the latch. Winters and Matsen crouched and braced themselves.

  The ground started to shake first, hard enough to knock Mike off his high post. The heat built up in a second. To Mike it felt like a furnace blast door had just been opened. A giant pillar of flame shot up from behind the fence, green and black, twisting and winding in upon itself, the third warning sign.

  Mike pushed Matsen out of the way and ran to the fence, easily vaulting over it and landing on the other side. I can lift a damn car. Fuck this shit. I’m not letting anyone get hurt by these things. Why have powers if you don’t use them? Mike began bracing himself fo
r a fight as a red light from a rift in the middle of the circle pierced into the sky.

  The hounds were backing away from the pit, unaware of the new visitor behind them. If they cared, they didn’t show it when they turned away and ran right past Mike with their tails between their legs, leaping over the fence. Mike heard Matsen swear and fire her handgun. The deep, satisfying sounds of shotgun blasts followed. They got that. I’ll take this.

  A giant claw, roughly the size of a large SUV, grabbed the earth from within the rift. A giant hook grafted onto a second arm, easily the size of a crane, followed the first out of the rift. They worked together to lift out a demon, easily three or four stories tall, its horned head adorned with rings and piercings. It had the same bony whips coming out from under its neck.

  This thing looks more like a gorilla than a dog or featherless bird. The spines on the beast fanned out, and green fire filled the gaps between them, creating massive wings of flame. It leaned back and bellowed, causing Mike to put his hands on his ears and drop to a knee. “I am Golgoroth.” Unlike the rest, Golgoroth started running directly at the United Center, unafraid of any lights. It reached down with its claw and snuffed out a streetlight like a candle.

  Mike could see it now, thousands of people inside the stadium enjoying a game and this thing crashing in. It would be over. Everyone would know about demons. He had to do something. At the very least, he could distract it and lead it away. Mike got into a sprinter’s position, digging his boots into the dirt. We can do this, guys. He imagined all his haunted friends at his back.

  Mike took off, demon blood surging in his veins. He was faster than Golgoroth, and as he came near, Mike jumped and put all his momentum into his shoulder, aiming for the back of Golgoroth’s knee. The impact took the wind out of Mike, and he continued tumbling on the ground a good twenty feet away. Golgoroth toppled forward, and a tremor shot through the ground. Mike gasped for breath. That should get its attention. Adrenaline, his drug of choice, returned to him. Mike dug his knuckles into the ground, sprang up, and dusted himself off.

  “Hey, big guy!” Mike called as he did a little boxer dance.

  Golgoroth was also standing back up. His flaming eyes pulsed with hatred. So if it’s a demon, is it a he . . . she? Nah, it’s an it. It leaned back and slammed its foot down, causing concrete and debris to fly up. The shock wave moved in a direct line toward Mike, who could not move in time. Mike was sent flying farther, crashing into a parked car, shattering the glass of the rear window and leaving an imprint. Golgoroth sniffed the air. “Demon slayer. Your stolen blood will be reclaimed.” It charged at Mike, each step rattling the earth and setting off car alarms.

  Mike panicked. His heart was racing. His body ached. I’m an idiot! What was I thinking? Run! He scrambled to get off the car. In the backseat, he saw a crowbar. Grabbing it through the glass without a second thought, he sprinted as Golgoroth stepped down. Metal crunching where he had just been, he felt the demon continue chasing as the ground shook with each step. Mike ran. His pace faltering with doubt and his balance shaken, it was not a fast run. He wanted to lead Golgoroth away, but instead he was running toward the United Center.

  A crowd of Chicagoans in sports jerseys was already streaming out the doors. They had only two reactions to a three-story-tall demon with flaming wings chasing a scrappy little guy with a crowbar. They either froze, cheeks red from the cold, and grabbed the hand of the person nearest them, or they ran in a full-on sprint of sheer terror.

  The game was over. If Mike kept running straight, he would lead Golgoroth right into an exit door, with people flooding out. Behind him was inevitable death. He could see how these people would die. Crushed, burned, and sliced in half. All Mike saw when he looked at the crowd was the dead. It would be his fault.

  “Fuck it,” Mike said. “Time I join my friends in death.”

  Mike turned around and faced his reaper. Golgoroth itself came to a halt before sweeping its giant hook out. Mike tried to jump over it but couldn’t get high enough as the claw shattered into his knees and sent him spinning. With its other hand, Golgoroth grabbed Mike in midair, hoisting him up higher. Mike felt his stomach drop as he winced in pain. Golgoroth slammed Mike into the concrete with rib-shattering force.

  What options do I have? Mike’s hand clenched onto the crowbar for life. He coughed up a thick pool of black blood. The heat from Golgoroth’s grasp burned his skin as he was thrown. Wind whisked past his face as he spun, the crushing pain from being slammed into a pole made flecks of white stars appear in his vision. He dropped to the ground like a rag doll, gasping for breath.

  How . . . He was standing over his broken body suddenly. The world an ashen color of its former self, yet Golgoroth towered over him with its flaming crown. He watched his body vomit more black ichor out and pull itself back to the demon, who seemed content to watch a life be snuffed out slowly. Even though his body was broken, it tried to lick the blood off the pavement. Mike realized that the body was already dead, kept animated only by the blood inside it. I’ve had only a small amount of demon blood, and I think I can take that? The thing is full of it. Its strength is insane. Wait . . . blood. That’s it!

  Clawing at his body and pounding it with his hands, Mike screamed with desperation as he tried to get back inside. Ghostly hands with fingerless gloves reached through the animated body’s chest as Mike focused every ounce of his willpower. Searing pain like serrated daggers thrust into his lower body brought him back to his senses. He didn’t know how, but he forced his way back into his body. A gasp of air filled his lungs, bringing him back from the brink of death with a scream that followed. Every bit of strength he had went into licking the blood off the concrete. Even mixed with the taste of granite, it was still as delicious as the first time he tasted it. The sharp pains he was feeling were from his body stitching itself back together. I’ll only have one chance at this.

  Mike flipped the crowbar in his hand. He smiled knowing that on the precipice of death, he was at his finest. Fight returning to his limbs, he was there on the edge of death again, adrenaline surging through him. The ashen world stayed visible. He could see his family and friends in the crowd. He wiped the sweat and blood off his forehead.

  Mike vaulted himself up and charged. Golgoroth raised its giant hook and brought it down, shattering the ground where Mike had been. Dashing to the side, grabbing the top of the hook, and jumping to avoid the earth shock, he held on. The hook felt like a hot fire poker through Mike’s gloves. He pulled himself up and ran along Golgoroth’s arm. It was no different than moving along steel beams at a construction site. Golgoroth was so large it felt like Mike was walking along an I beam that was being hoisted by a crane. He was at home.

  Focusing on balance, Mike made it to the shoulder. The heat from the wings scorched him. He could already feel his skin blackening and red sores erupting on his exposed flesh. Golgoroth brought its claw around to pull Mike off, but he was committed. He ran forward to its massive head. I’m either gonna be incinerated by green fire or impaled by that claw. Neither sounds like a great way to be taken out.

  All his strength went into plunging the crowbar into the demon’s temple. It felt like trying to move through a concrete wall, but it worked. Blood streamed out like a geyser from Golgoroth’s head. Its screams shattered glass as it shook its head. Mike did what he could to drink as much of the blood as possible while holding on to the embedded crowbar. He grabbed some of the rings pierced into Golgoroth’s flesh for extra purchase. The blood tasted sweet, like plums and peaches simmered and spiced. It was so much more fulfilling than the bit he drank nights ago, and its effect was even greater. Mike’s hands started to glow with their own heat. A rage took hold deep within him, the simmering coals in his stomach now a full raging fire.

  Mike stabbed and punched. His kicks and elbow strikes caused their own impacts as he hammered into Golgoroth’s face. The demon was backing away from the crowd, trying to stop Mike’s onslaught. Everything was red to Mike, a
crimson rage as he hacked and punched.

  Mike began ripping out giant hooks from Golgoroth in his fury, causing more streams of blood as Golgoroth fell to its knees. No longer conscious of what he was doing, Mike let the fury consume him. Riding the wave of death, he punched through the demon’s flesh with his hands. With each drop of blood Mike stole, he became stronger.

  Golgoroth was on its back now, chest heaving as Mike ripped it open. There! Mike saw the heart. If blood is life, if blood is strength, what can the heart do? He grabbed the pumpkin-sized heart with both hands and pulled with all his strength to wrest it free. Without a second thought, Mike bit into it, searing the flesh around his mouth. He didn’t care. With each bite, he felt stronger, better, faster. His teeth started to grow into fangs, to help him devour the heart faster. It was all-consuming. The ashen world faded. The friends and family faded. The crowd was gone. All that mattered was devouring the heart.

  Until it was gone.

  The world came back into focus. Ash was already floating up into the air from the dead Golgoroth. Mike tried to breathe, only to find that his lungs didn’t work. Fangs that protruded from his mouth snapped back into his jaw, hiding themselves. His hands were no longer shaking or glowing, and the rage that consumed him now rested at the back of his mind. He knew, deep down, he was no longer human. He did feel full, however. He felt alive. He also felt dirty somehow.

  The crowd cheered, snapping Mike out of it. He heard words like awesome and amazing and cries of “What the hell was that?” Mike looked at the assembled crowd. We can beat them. This is our chance to change the world. For all of us. Mike knew he wasn’t thinking only of demons. Images flashed in his head of privatized prison systems and debutants laughing while people burned alive in factories to make their clothes. Mike grabbed the crowbar, hopped onto a car tipped on its side, and turned to the crowd.