TF- C - 00.00 - THE FALLEN Dark Fantasy Series: A Dark Dystopian Fantasy (Books 1 - 3)

by Steve Windsor

  Just then, one of the little purgatories—the one that took the father’s soul—came flying back into the room. And gunfire echoed down the hallway behind him. The little guy looked completely flustered.

  They all glanced at him briefly, and then Jump looked at Fury and said, “We’re taking too long. You gotta scrape him.”

  Fury ran at the PAIC.

  “Wait-wait!” he said. “I just want to see her—”

  Fury touched both of her hands to the agent’s face and his eyes rolled back, and his head and then his whole body went limp. She let go of him and his head tilted forward and bounced off his chest once before it was still.

  The little purgatory stopped cold. He just stared at Fury.

  Fury clucked a laugh at him and said, “Didn’t know we could do that, did ya? So much to learn, so little time to like, burn it into your stupid little feathers. Now, get out of my face—fly and get me another maggot to Hell.” She watched the little angel leave. “And don’t get shot, either … idiot.” Then she looked back at Jump. He was taking the tape off the PAIC—himself—from the chair. “What the fuck are you doing?” she asked him.

  Jump kept cutting. “Loose end,” he said. He didn’t even look up. “He’s coming too.”

  “Where are we going?” Faith asked.

  For an angel, trying to outrun the Word, the fastest way they knew was to fly. No better place to do that, in Jump’s opinion, but before he could get the words out—

  “The roof?” Fury shouted.

  — CXXXIII —

  IT WAS A furious fight to get to the stairwell. Once Fury, Faith and Jump heard the first long alarm blast, there were Protection agents everywhere.

  Feathers had flown and blood had spilled and limbs had severed. Carrying bodies while they fought had Faith and Jump at about half their normal worth in a firefight. And they certainly couldn’t use their shields with one wing around a limp Man-monkey. Fury did most of the blood-spilling.

  And spill she had, but as fast as she cut Protection agents to pieces, more showed up. They were like rats, scurrying and racing at them as they fired. Finally she just couldn’t keep up, and all three of them took a few rounds through their armored feathers. When they finally made it to the stairwell… The purgatories had their first work as soul-security gathering angels cut out for them. Or cut up, if they listened to Jump’s sarcasm while they fought.

  Jump was leaking black blood, Faith was limping worse, and the tip of one of Fury’s wings was broken. Then another long moaning trumpet blast shook the entire building.

  “Dammit,” Jump said, “that’s two.” He struggled to shut the door to the stairwell behind them. “Clock’s ticking too fast. Burn it shut!” he yelled at Fury

  Fury popped one of her fire-feathers out and started welding the steel doorjamb with it. Sparks and molten metal fell to the floor around her. “What clock?” she asked. “Two? Like, how many do we get?”

  Barely one flight of stairs up—none of them knew how far down they were—Fury yelled behind her at Jump, talking between breaths, “How many … do we get?”

  “Seven,” it was all Jump had to say. The truth was, carrying himself as a Man-monkey PAIC and climbing stairs, it was all he had breath for.

  “Mother of mercy,” Faith said behind Jump.

  “What?” Fury gasped back at Faith. Then she caught her breath again. “What are you bitching about?”

  “You don’t…” Faith yelled up the stairs at her. He coughed a little, choking on his words. “You don’t … want to know.”

  — CXXXIV —

  SALVATION AND RAIN both looked away from the fall at the first blast of the horn.

  “What the hell was that?” Salvation said.

  “I … I’m not—I don’t know,” Rain said, but she had an idea where she might find out.

  “What?” Salvation said. “I thought all of you Protectors knew everything. Not so smart now, are you? Damn…” she muttered. “Well, I might know what it is. Not good, not good at all.”

  Salvation leaned in next to her, while Rain read from Life’s book—the Bible, “And the citizens shouted and the walls came down. And a second son was brought to life.”

  Rain stopped reading, and they both turned back and watched the fall. Fury was busy welding the edges of the door—melting the metal with her feather—locking their three archangels into the stairwell.

  “Oh my God,” Salvation raised her voice, “she’s sending another Jesus!”

  “Mother!”

  “I’m sorry-I’m sorry,” Salvation said. “It’s just—she can’t—how can she do that? She’s in the dungeon.”

  “It is written,” said Rain.

  “It is—honestly?” Salvation said. “I wish all this stuff wasn’t so much interpretation.” She reached for the book. Rain gave it up only slightly grudgingly. Then Salvation looked at the last line. “Such a tiny little thing,” she muttered. “One little letter … capital—her name’s not capitalized.”

  Rain knew it hardly mattered. “Blind faith, Mother,” she said. “The words only have meaning as one believes in them.”

  And then the second huge horn blasted and they both looked at the fall.

  Rain turned back to Life’s book and read out loud, “And a second trumpet plunged a great burning mountain into the sea and—”

  “I forget,” Salvation said, “what happened on the first one?”

  Rain ran her finger back up the page to the description of the first trumpet. “Upon the first,” she continued, “hail and fire, mixed with blood, was hurled to the garden, burning up trees and all the green grasses. And the oceans became blood.”

  “We already did this,” Salvation said, “cleansing the garden—Armageddon. That’s over.”

  Rain looked up from the book. “That was then,” she said. As a Protector, she understood many things, some more than others. But now she knew what Life was doing. “This is now. And now is punishment and suffering. She wants her children to fear and—”

  “And what?”

  Rain looked into her mother’s eyes. “Pray for her to deliver them.”

  — CXXXV —

  FURY AND JUMP and Faith ran a few more floors up the stairwell, and then bullets started raining down on them from a few flights up.

  And Jump dropped the PAIC and spread his wings wide to protect him. Bullets pelted him and ripped wing feathers and a few made it past him and hit Faith.

  One bullet grazed Father Benito’s empty husk. And Faith yelled up at Jump to tell him.

  Jump looked back at him and frowned. Not that it would harm the dead and soulless corpse, but he had an idea.

  And a long blaring sound … wailed … and moaned its way through the stairwell.

  “Wormwood…” Faith shook his head and muttered.

  Then the stairwell shook again.

  As Fury stumbled, she fired hot feathers up the center of the stairwell, in a hail of bright tracer streaks that lit up the whole shaft of stairs like a shining star.

  Screaming echoed back down at them—men crying and raging at their misery and pain. They all called for God to save them.

  “What’s Wormwood?” Fury yelled above the screams.

  “It’s a star,” said Jump. Then he stood up, scooped up the PAIC with a wing, and started climbing stairs again.

  Fury yelled after him, “How do you know that shit?”

  Jump shouted back at her between gasping for air as he climbed. “Try … popping the wave tablet … off your ear … once in a while,” he gasped. “Read … a book. Could”—he sucked in some air—“save your life one day.”

  Fury flapped and hopped up a couple more steps. “Fuck you,” she muttered up at him. Then she gasped for air. “Hello … the books are … kicking our asses.”

  Jump knew she was right … about those books, anyway. “Wormwood,” he muttered. Then he sucked in hard again to catch his breath. “She’s a bitter bitch.”

  — CXXXVI —

  F
URY OVERTOOK JUMP and passed him as she stepped over dead Protection agents in the middle of the stairs. Then the fourth long horn blasted and sent them all crashing up against the wall along the outside of the stairwell.

  Fury sat up, breathing hard, and she said, “Can we like … just skip to the end”—she panted a little—“on this horn shit? It’s pissing me off!”

  Jump got back to his feet, grabbed the PAIC’s limp body, and pointed his wing in front of Fury, up the stairs. “Keep moving,” he said. “You don’t redeem yourself … by the time the seventh one goes off … we’re stuck down here with the locusts. You think those purgies are a pain in the ass…?”

  The fifth huge alarm moan sounded like a voice. It was so loud, it felt like the whole planet should have been able to hear it. “Woe, woe, woe, to those who dwell on the earth, the remaining warnings of the three angels who are about to sound!”

  “What … was that?” asked Fury. “That sounded like … Life?”

  Faith followed behind them. “Don’t worry,” he said, “she won’t hurt you.”

  Fury rolled her eyes and kept pumping her legs. “So relieved.”

  Faith kept running and he yelled ahead at them, “The locusts just”—and he gasped for air—“torment you.”

  “I don’t give a…” Fury yelled back, “about any locusts!”

  Jump switched the PAIC’s body to his other wing. He shouted back at Faith, “I thought these … were supposed to… Aren’t they months apart?”

  “The ‘day’ is … speeding up,” Faith yelled and then coughed.

  “Perfect,” Jump said.

  Then the sixth horn blast reverberated through the stairwell and they all stumbled and fell to the floor.

  “Four angels,” Faith said. It was barely loud enough for Jump and Fury to hear now. “Plague … fire … smoke … brimstone. Get up,” he tried to yell, but it came out quieter, “we have to get to the roof!”

  — CXXXVII —

  ON THE FIFTH horn, Rain looked away from the fall. She could not bear to watch. If this was Fury’s end, she wanted to remember her a different way. “They won’t… She does not have time.”

  Salvation put her arm around her daughter. She stared into the fall, watching and listening as the sixth trumpet blasted. And then she got mad. Maybe they did need to intervene. That bitch in the dungeon wasn’t playing by the rules, anyway. “Come on,” she said, “we’re stopping this bitch.”

  They raced from Rain’s throne room, down the steps and out onto the Great Mountain of the Eternities, then they both flew as fast as their wings would carry them.

  Rain grew brighter as they soared—she could feel Salvation’s determination raging beside her.

  As the roof to the Hallowed Hall of the Words rotated open, they both twisted in mid-air and then dove at the floor of the Arena of Reckoning. And they opened their wings wide and vapor trails swirled as they decelerated, then they landed at the portal entrance to the Dungeons of the Damned.

  When they folded their wings back, Salvation said, “I’m still not sure how she did it, but that evil woman restarted her eternity. Time for it to finally end, because I’m getting tired of cleaning up after her.”

  Rain flapped toward the portal. Salvation flapped beside her.

  The aftermath of Jump’s torture had been an intolerable horror to witness. Rain pushed out all of her brilliant bright plumage and steeled herself to wade through the stench again.

  By now, most of the evil angels in the dungeons had more than enough time to meld their disintegrated bodies back together and were most likely … angrier than ever.

  Rain pushed out her ballistic wing feathers and crouched down, ready to fire if necessary.

  Salvation did the same.

  The portal twisted open.

  — CXXXVIII —

  FURY, FAITH AND Jump fought their way through two more squads of Protection agents before they finally clawed their way up the last flight of stairs.

  The big steel door to the roof was a cold, Seattle gray. The three of them stared at it. The door would swing to the inside when they opened it—the back cover of an old book, daring them to open it and sneak a peek at the ending.

  None of them had any idea what they were going to do once they got out on the roof. Some plans were like that—it was tough to imagine anything past the part where they should already be dead.

  Jump had a theory, though, and so did Fury. But when she flung open the door to the roof, and the three of them ran out into the darkness … neither of those theories survived the first five seconds.

  — CXXXIX —

  WHEN THE PORTAL to the dungeons twisted open, Salvation and Rain lunged forward, but then stopped cold.

  There was no waft of misery, and no sounds of wailing demons and damned angels’ souls rushed out. Neither was there the flickering flame from the fiery lake below. There was simply … darkness.

  Rain almost fell forward, stopping herself.

  And Salvation’s mouth sagged open a little as she stopped.

  They stepped slowly through the entrance and it twisted shut behind them.

  “It’s…” Salvation wanted to speak—say something to wake them both up. But unlike snapping out of their delusions after the last horrible dream they witnessed in the cells, waking up from this new nightmare would prove to be worse. “They are all … gone,” she said softly. “How … how is that possible?” She looked closer at the iron gates to the cells. “Your seals…”

  Rain looked at one of her seals on the floor. She reached down and touched it, moving her finger over the cracked image of her star. “She found…” She stood back up and looked at Salvation, remembering what her father always warned her. “Life always finds a way.”

  — CXL —

  THERE WAS A light layer of fog above Seattle and the mist floated down onto the rooftop of the Fifty, like meandering snowflakes on the mountain. The moon hung low in the sky, bathing everything in a dark, blackish-blue light. But the moonlight was poised to disappear beneath the horizon and let the sun pull back its blanket of black. Then the truth would shine down through the unwilling lie of the haze and the three of them would turn to ash.

  That was the last thing Jump told Faith and Fury before he let her open the door to the roof.

  They stood motionless, barely outside the door to the stairwell. The city was silent. The only sound in the night… The only hint of life… The great wings on the steeds of a force of… It wasn’t easy for Fury to count that many mounted dark and evil angels, hovering in the sky in front of them, backlit by the moon. It seemed to her, though—a wild guess at best—like … a hundred million, at least.

  They were mounted on horses … well, at first glance they looked like horses to her, but when she zoomed closer… Their heads looked like lions and their tails were like snakes, hissing and flicking their tongues at the night. And smoke billowed from the horses’ nostrils as their fiery hot breath mixed with the cold, damp air.

  The riders rippled armored feathers that flashed the color of singing fire and sulfur. The feathers glinted and clanked, as riders adjusted and held their mounts at bay. And the angels’ wings and the fangs on the horses dripped red with the blood of a third of mankind. Faith provided that little piece of information, right after the sixth long horn blasted.

  And five months’ worth of plague and torment hovered and snorted and clanked, like they had all the time in eternity to wait.

  “Fuck me…” Fury muttered. She and Jump had faced a plague like this before. But those were Man-monkeys, soft and weak at their core. Soulless liars, put to death at the command of a vengeful deity when they had become too unruly to rule.

  This plague—this horde of whores and hounds—were nothing less than the demon and archangel army of the Devil himself. Though when Fury thought about it, she knew there was very little difference. Life or Lived—maybe both of them, it hardly mattered—had found a way.

  Jump dropped the PAIC. Then he dropped th
e syringe, still a quarter filled with Judgment next to him. No need to send himself into a dream after this—he wouldn’t even believe it himself … if he lived to believe anything again.

  Faith dropped the father’s body, and then he fell to his knees right next to him. His head hung down, and his wings sagged and his wounds bled down his arms and chest. He was spent. He panted and prepared.

  Fury slowly turned her head, eyeing the horde as she did. Then she looked at Jump’s face.

  Jump’s chest heaved as he sucked for air. He shrugged his shoulders and shifted his stance. Then he tightened all of his feathers and a few sparks popped and fell to the roof. “It’s your nightmare, little girl,” he said. “Blaze of glory or redemption in the rain. Either way, I’m tired a running.”

  Fury turned back toward the hovering horde. One lone rider spurred his snorting steed down toward the roof, and they both landed at the edge with a few scrapes and some snorting.

  The rider dismounted and walked slowly toward them, angling his way toward Fury. He sang a little song as he walked:

  Rain’s reign go away

  Boil my blood another day.

  If the night turns into day…

  Burned to ashes you shall stay.

  When he finished, he stopped in the middle of the roof. “Matilda Mercy King—Fury of The Fallen,” the man shouted loud enough that the two Heavens could hear.

  “Matilda-what?” Jump whispered to Faith.

  “Mercy,” Faith said. “That’s what her mother—”

  “You have just got to be shitting me,” Jump said. Then he turned to Fury. “Your name’s not Mercedes?”

  “It’s a nickname,” Fury said. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Faith whispered to Jump, “That’s one of the spellings … of the blessed saint, Mercy. Babette—her mother told me that she hated being called Matilda.”

  “Hey, Matilda,” said Jump. Let’s see how bad she wants it, he thought. “We battling, or you gonna go all maiden on me?”

  Fury ignored Jump’s taunt.

  The singing was familiar—Fury even felt like she had heard the words before—but there was no mistaking the voice. Life had sent her cellmate to murder, rape and ravage the garden. And now he looked to be Fury’s judge, jury and executioner.