The Devil's Secret

by Joshua Ingle

  The plane itself was a small white Cessna with external landing gear and a single propeller, barely large enough to fit the four of them. The word “JUST” was painted in bright blue paint on one side of the vertical stabilizer, and when Thorn paced around to the other side, he found the word “MARRIED.”

  Thorn was growing anxious, and not only because any moment could herald the arrival of the sunrise, or possibly God’s army of angels. This plan carried great risk to the humans’ lives. But could he ask Heather and Karen to take the safer route: to take a car and drive across the Sanctuary, leaving Brandon alone to assume the risk of flying the airplane—a risk which would soon become all too apparent? The humans trusted Thorn little enough already, and he feared that Karen would use any more strange requests from him to sow dissent among them again. No, if Thorn’s plan was going to succeed, they’d all have to get on that plane and court death.

  “Damn, I wish I’d thought to smoke on the ride over,” Brandon muttered as he unlatched the plane’s door. “Hop in.” He lowered the stairs then climbed up inside.

  Thorn inspected the Cessna’s exterior. Would it be able to go fast enough for his purposes? Thorn was upset with himself for never having learned more about aviation, since it had existed for over a century now. Yet another area of knowledge that I never experienced—that I ignored in favor of power games.

  He moved Virgil’s dead legs one after the other until he found himself next to Karen at the aircraft’s door. Her hands rested on each side of the doorway. She seemed deep in thought. “Should we get on?” he asked her.

  She remained still for a few moments, then called into the plane. “Heather.”

  Crouching, Heather poked her head out of the plane. She glanced briefly at Thorn before focusing on Karen. “What’s up?”

  “Come here,” Karen said, gesturing Heather closer. Heather sat on the plane’s steps, face to face with the preacher.

  “My father was a nice man, a good Christian,” Karen said. “Daniel Noyce. Thin guy with a little scar on his lip, always overdressed, always happy to help others. Taught me everything I know about leading a church.”

  Heather again threw Thorn an uncertain glance. She fretted with her navy blue dress.

  “When I was sixteen,” Karen continued, “my family learned that my dad had been cheating on my mom ever since I was little. He’d had three mistresses that we knew about, but there were probably more. He was so ashamed. Told my mom he’d wanted to confess ever since the first affair, but he was always too weak to summon the nerve. So he went on making a joke of the sacrament of marriage. It split our family apart.”

  Heather had rolled a big clump of her dress into an uncomfortable knot in her hand. She kept her eyes away from Karen’s.

  “I sincerely apologize for being so rude at your wedding,” Karen said. “But no matter what you believe about how the universe works, I want you to know that marriages are important. You need to take this commitment seriously, and treat my Brandon well. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.”

  “I will,” said Heather, and she finally looked at Karen. The two women stared into each other’s souls, searching: perhaps for understanding, perhaps for a reason to make peace.

  “I shouldn’t envy your marriage, but I do,” Karen said. “I never got married. I’m a small person, and I’ve chosen to surrender my life and my life’s work to a higher authority.” She gingerly lifted her hands away from the plane’s hull, then clasped them together. “I’ve been seeking all my life to become a more moral, godly person. And then kids like you and Brandon—kids I care about—come along and tell me I’m full of crap. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  As Heather contemplated, Thorn heard Brandon tinkering in the cockpit. The engine started, then sputtered, and finally faltered back into silence.

  “You know,” Heather said to Karen, “Brandon once told me a story about you. About one time when a messy-looking drug addict went into your church on a Sunday morning, sat right in the middle of the chapel, track marks all over his arms?”

  “Ha. Yep. The poor fella stank to high heaven.”

  “Brandon told me that a few people in your congregation asked him to leave, but right at the start of your sermon, you walked up to him, took his hand, and led him to the front row. In front of everybody. Then you had him over for lunch after the service.”

  “His name’s Garth. He works as our janitor now.”

  Heather chuckled, then reached forward and placed a reassuring hand on Karen’s arm. “From the moment Brandon told me that story, I knew you were a moral person. I just don’t think you need faith to be that way, is all. Or at least, even if you do, I don’t.”

  Karen nodded, and closed her eyes. “That’s kind of you to say. I wish you well, Heather. And I hope you understand… I’ve decided not to join you on the plane. I’ve decided to stay here.”

  No! Thorn wanted to say. If you stay here, the Sanctuary will end and you’ll be thrown back into the system, doomed to die over and over until you finally make a choice that God deems correct. Were it not for the tentative nature of Brandon and Heather’s trust in him, Thorn might have seized Karen’s mind as he’d once seized Crystal’s, putting her in a trance and forcing her to do his bidding—only with Karen, it’d be to save her life.

  But then he wondered: Could Karen’s apology have been her Big Choice? Perhaps she’d been meant to grow greater than her own biases and extend an olive branch. Perhaps Heather’s Big Choice had been the same. Thorn hoped this was the case—that Karen would be free to live out her life on Earth. It was the only hope for her that he could cling to, since she certainly wouldn’t listen to any pleas from him to get onto the plane. But he also hoped that Heather wouldn’t suddenly disappear on him.

  “Tell Brandon I’ll see you both on the other side of this godforsaken night,” Karen said, opening her eyes. “And I’ll always be here in Bristol if you ever need a friend.”

  Heather smiled. She brushed some hair out of her face, then said, “Thank you.”

  Karen nodded just as the plane’s engine sputtered to life. She backed toward the hangar’s entrance.

  Thorn yelled over the strengthening rumble of the engine. “Karen. I’m here to help you. You can trust me. Can you please join us on the plane?”

  Karen pointedly shook her head, turned her back, then paced out of the hangar, keeping her distance from the spinning propeller. Well, at least I asked. Besides, Karen’s chances of survival might be better on the ground.

  Thorn hopped into the plane then fastened the door shut behind him. Brandon yelled something from the cockpit.

  “What?” Thorn called.

  Heather settled into the copilot’s seat, though Thorn doubted she knew much about flying. She threw him a set of headphones, connected to the cockpit by a thick black cord. Thorn caught the headset and put it on. Heather did likewise.

  Brandon’s crisp voice sizzled from the headset. “I was asking what Karen’s doing.”

  “She’s not coming,” Heather’s voice said, just as clear as Brandon’s.

  Brandon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “What? Did you try to talk her out of it?”

  “I don’t think she’s in a mood to be talked out of anything.”

  A pause, then: “All right. Where should we go—Knoxville or Charlotte? They’re about the same distance.”

  “Charlotte,” Thorn said.

  “Works for me. Virgil, strap yourself in.”

  Thorn obliged, then settled back in his seat for what was bound to be a bumpy ride. The plane jolted underneath him as Brandon moved it forward, out of the hangar.

  “I haven’t been able to contact traffic control or radio navigation,” Brandon said. “Not sure what that means.”

  Perhaps that God is shutting out the possibility of new humans being created for this Sanctuary, in preparation for an invasion? Thorn glanced out the window at Karen, who was plodding deliberately back the way they’d come. He wond
ered if she would realize that she was thoroughly alone down here. He hoped Marcus didn’t find her, if he still lingered in the Sanctuary.

  I should have killed him. Thorn’s demonic instincts bristled. But he knew he’d have regretted killing Marcus, too. No matter what choice I make with him, I seem to regret it later.

  “Fuel’s good, wind looks fine. Get ready.”

  Brandon’s gaze alternated between the instruments on the dashboard and the checklist nestled in his lap. He turned the plane onto the runway, allowing for a spectacular, yet chilling view of the tiny airport at night. A thin layer of fog blanketed the ground across the entire expanse of the airfield. Crisscrossing lines of lights beamed upward through the fog, and still more lights blinked from towers nearby. Not a single sign of human activity could be seen, save for Karen walking back into the fog. Thorn watched her go until the plane’s turning swung her out of view.

  “It’s weird that nobody’s here,” Brandon said through the headphones. “Even for this time of night. What’s going on in this town?” He lined the plane up with the reflectors set in the center of the runway. “I don’t see any other planes, so I’m just gonna go for it. Brace yourselves.”

  Brandon eased the throttle forward, and the plane rapidly built up speed, bumping as it sped along. A torrent of fog raced by outside. Ominous dark mountains began to move against the backdrop of the stars in the sky. Brandon pulled back on the yoke, and the tense sound of wheels against pavement disappeared. The plane’s nose raised heavenward, and they were airborne.

  Thorn watched the airport vanish into a blur of lights in the fog beneath them, then surveyed the vast landscape that opened up as they climbed ever higher. The country club was a small speck of light in the distance, and he knew the church lurked somewhere in the nearby dark.

  Where is my body? Thorn wondered, and tried to calculate the distance. Upon first entering this Sanctuary, he’d abandoned the human body with which he’d been gifted, had left it beneath a tree in an expansive grassy field. After all, it would have been just as vulnerable to the demons’ attacks as the humans’ bodies were, and not as durable—oddly—as Virgil’s corpse. The field lay a few miles southeast of here, roughly toward Charlotte. Thorn would have to time the plane’s passage over that field just right… but would the empty body still be alive, and available for use? Thorn desperately hoped so. He couldn’t very well take Virgil back to Earth. The dead man’s body would likely collapse the instant it left the Sanctuary and entered space where the normal rules of the spirit world reigned. No, if Thorn wanted to continue interacting with Heather and Brandon on Earth, he would need a body of his own. A living body. The body he’d had when he came here from Heaven.

  If that damned Thilial hadn’t intervened, maybe I’d have that body already. Maybe we’d be safely away by now.

  “I hope Karen’s okay,” Brandon said via the headsets.

  “Yeah,” Heather replied.

  Thorn leaned forward to peer into the cockpit. While Brandon kept a close eye on the dashboard, Heather watched the ground through the side window. Brandon brought the plane’s nose down, level with the horizon.

  Only there was no horizon. No ground, no clouds, no stars. The front windows displayed only blackness.

  “What the—?” Brandon’s eyes swept over his instruments as he grabbed the throttle and eased it back. Out the side window, Thorn saw the land’s edge below and in front of the plane. Dirt, trees, lakes, and houses sprang upward from a bottomless abyss, creating new ground as the plane flew over it. The time for action had come.

  Thorn unbuckled his seat belt. The back of the plane was clean save for some loose instructional manuals and glass cups, which Thorn tucked into a pouch on the back of one of the seats.

  Just as Thorn turned toward the cockpit, a new mountain rose into existence, its highest trees topping out just beneath the plane. Brandon pulled up. Thorn tumbled back into his seat.

  “Turn back, turn back,” Heather said, her voice trembling.

  “No,” Thorn said. “Turn right, toward that river over there.” Closer to my human body. Even as he said the words, a new section of the river popped up into being. Before the water could fall off the edge of the Sanctuary, additional stretches of the river leaped into place, off into the distance.

  Brandon yawed the Cessna to the right and toward the river, but his voice grew harsh. “Virgil, what’s happening?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “No!”

  “Well you’re gonna have to. I need you to get as close to the ground as you can.”

  “Okay, yeah, let’s land.”

  “No, I need you to get close to the ground, and speed up.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been looking out for you two all night. Just trust me this one last time and I’ll never ask for any favors again. Please. If you want to get to safety, this is the only way.”

  Brandon exchanged a nervous glance with Heather. Low-hanging clouds gave way to clear air as the plane swooped downward. The Sanctuary’s boundary lay just behind the next mountain.

  “Are your seat belts on?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Thorn crouched just behind the front seats and held on to them tightly. So long, Virgil. Thanks for all your help. “Take that pass between the mountains there. See that field? Aim for that.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just trust me. Stay close to the ground. Closer!” The mountains rushed toward them.

  “If I get any closer we’ll crash!”

  “Speed up!”

  “I’m not gonna—”

  “If you want to live, speed up!” Into the boundary! Past the boundary!

  The plane jolted as Brandon jammed the throttle forward. Heather’s hands clutched her armrests with a viselike grip. The plane’s dashboard started beeping an altitude warning.

  The mountains rocketed past, their trees nearly scraping the side of the plane. Beyond the mountains lay a large field of grass, and beyond the field, the empty black abyss of the Sanctuary’s boundary.

  In seconds, they’d nearly caught up with the expanding boundary. Thorn looked out the side window and saw the Sanctuary trying to create new space at its edge. But the plane was faster. It torpedoed over the field, out into empty space, and then beyond. Faster, faster…

  Heather yelled for Brandon to stop the plane. Brandon started to ease back on the throttle, but Thorn reached Virgil’s hand forward and held the lever down. The plane’s alarms grew louder, emphatic.

  “What are you doing, Virgil?” Brandon shrieked. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “God demands that we all make a choice tonight,” Thorn said calmly. “Here’s mine.”

  For an instant, Thorn saw the bright whites and the deep blacks of the Corridors. Then the plane spun around him. Inertia wrenched Virgil out of his grasp, hurling the dead body against the front windows. They shattered. Screaming followed, then the tearing of metal, then fire.

  12

  Thorn swung through the blinding smoke into the cramped cockpit. He drew near to Heather’s face and found her unconscious. “Wake up!” he said. But any influence he might have had over her in the Sanctuary was gone, because they weren’t in the Sanctuary anymore. He shouted at her again, yet her eyes remained closed and her lungs kept inhaling smoke.

  Thorn flew to the pilot’s side and peered through the sooty air. Brandon lay unconscious as well. Though the skin of his arm hadn’t torn, his left humerus was bent at the center, at a sickening angle. Blood welled beneath the skin at the break. And—No!—blood covered Brandon’s whole head and face. Thorn instinctively moved his hand toward Brandon’s mouth to check for breath, but Thorn had only his spiritual body now, and felt nothing.

  “Hon?” Heather said faintly.

  “Heather, get Brandon out of here!” Thorn said in a plain demonic whisper, which seemed so feeble compared with the power his whispers had carried in the Sanctuaries. It’d be a wonder if
Heather even heard him at all.

  But she soon came to her senses, coughing. “Hon? Brandon, honey, talk to me.” She unbuckled her seat belt. Gravity pulled her down through Thorn, toward Brandon. She yelped at the fall and her arms flailed upward, wrapping around her headrest just in time to prevent a full drop. Avoiding Virgil’s corpse, she braced her feet against the pilot’s window, then crouched down to see the grisly sight of her motionless husband.

  The stunned wail that burst from her mouth struck Thorn deeply. Her face contorted into a grimace. Her posture went limp. “No, hon. No, no, no.” She pulled his torso back up against the seat and embraced him.

  She immediately pulled back. “Breathing. You’re still breathing. Okay.”

  Relief pushed itself upon Thorn, but he wouldn’t let himself feel it. Brandon was clearly in critical condition, and Thorn had no way to get him medical treatment. You knew the risk, a dark part of Thorn said to him. And now you’ve killed yet another human for the sake of your own ambition. Was it worth it, Thorn?

  At least the humans still existed here in the Corridors. Thorn hadn’t been sure they would. For all he’d known, they might have vanished into nothingness upon leaving the Sanctuary.

  Thorn rose through the plane’s hull. Through it! As much as he’d enjoyed the power he’d had in the Sanctuaries, passing his spiritual body straight through a wall again felt nearly transcendent to him.

  Hovering above the Cessna, he surveyed the scene of the crash. The plane had weathered the impact well enough, save for the fractured wing and the mangled nose. A rip in the metal stretched halfway around the tail, and the hull near the pilot bent into a concave bowl. The oval of broken glass strewn about the floor of the Corridor was mirrored by a circle of rising smoke pooling beneath the ceiling.

  Thorn gazed down the Corridor. In one direction, the black and white hallway seemed to stretch to infinity. In the other direction, a yawning hole gaped in an otherwise empty wall, its edges gleaming with scintillating spiritual energy, protesting Thorn’s breach of the Sanctuary’s boundary.