Eve of Redemption

by Tom Mohan

  THE SERPENT STRUGGLED to pull himself free, but too many hands held him. His flesh still tingled at the searing pain that had stripped him of his assumed identity when the terrible light had touched him. Worse still, Lord Denizen was gone, torn away with everything else. This was not the first time Denizen had left him, but the emptiness told him this time was different. Could that little bald geek actually have killed a god? The idea seemed preposterous, but if Denizen was dead, or permanently gone, the Becoming would be gone with him.

  “What’s going on?” the Serpent heard one of the men say. “Lynx is a dude?” He cursed and spat on the ground.

  “We’re seeing the truth,” another said. “Josiah showed us the truth.”

  “This is too weird.”

  “What do we do with him?”

  “Let me go!” The Serpent hated the sound of his voice. It sounded weak and sniveling, not his voice at all. The Serpent was strong, unbeatable. This could not be happening to him. “Let…me…go!” A sudden backhand snapped his head back.

  “Shut up, punk!” Hank hovered over him. “You stabbed Josiah, man. Maybe killed him. Raquel ain’t gonna take kindly to that.” Hank pulled away. “We hold him for Raquel.”

  Raquel held Tiny’s huge head in her lap as she watched the hole that hung in mid-air disappear, leaving only the cool Arizona desert where a city had stood moments earlier. True to his word, Burke had remained behind. Raquel wondered if she would ever see him again. She doubted it. The strangeness of the past days had left her numb and emotionally spent. None of this made any sense, and yet, she had always suspected the universe held secrets beyond the imaginings of men. Now she knew for sure.

  Tiny groaned. “Raquel? That you, girl?” His voice was weak and raspy. Raquel knew he must be in terrible pain. Blisters grew over most of his face, and some of the skin was peeling off. She was careful to keep her gaze from his empty eye sockets.

  “Yeah, Tiny, it’s me.”

  “What’s happening? Where we at now?”

  Raquel looked around. “We’re back in the ghost town. It’s still empty, but the bikes are back.”

  “Who’s back?”

  Raquel heard the confusion in Tiny’s voice. She couldn’t blame him for it. “The bikes. They’re here, right where we left them. Rest of the town looks like no one’s been around in months. How you feeling?” She knew it was a stupid question but could think of nothing else to say.

  “Can’t see nothin’. Face hurts. Tell me the truth, girl. How bad are my eyes?”

  Raquel sighed. “I’m no doctor.” She didn’t have the strength to tell him he didn’t have any eyes. Let someone else break that news to him. She gazed out over what she could see of the town. She had no idea how she would get Tiny out of here if the others didn’t come back. What if they were all dead? Killed by those tongue-whipping monsters? No, she couldn’t let herself think that way. Josiah would come back, and he would know what to do. Josiah always knew what to do. Tiny would have been nothing without Josiah. Her husband had never believed that, but she had always recognized the power Josiah held in the gang. A match with him had seemed far from ideal at first, but the little man treated her like a queen. She smiled at the memory of the salute he had given her when they had been forced to split up.

  “Raquel! Thank God you made it out.”

  Raquel turned to see Specs running toward her. Her heart leapt in her chest. “Specs! You made it!”

  Specs hurried to her side. “I’ve been looking all over, hoping you guys made it out.” He glanced at Tiny’s limp form. “Tiny? Man, what happened to your face?” Raquel caught Specs’ eye and shook her head. Specs nodded at her. “I mean, man, that looks like it hurts.”

  Tiny’s cracked lips managed a small smile. “Yeah, ya might say that.”

  “Where’s Burke and Martinez?” Specs asked. “They with you?”

  Raquel shook her head. “Martinez is dead. Burke stayed behind. He thinks his daughter’s in there somewhere.” She looked around. “How many of you are there? Josiah’s with you?”

  Specs hesitated just long enough to tell her something was wrong. “Uh, yeah, he’s with us.”

  Raquel’s hand flashed out and grabbed the front of the Specs’ jacket. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Specs wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Josiah’s hurt. Bad.”

  Raquel’s blood froze in her veins. “Where?” She tightened her grip and shook the man. “Where is he?”

  Specs hung his head but raised one arm and pointed back the way he had come. “They’re back there. Couple blocks to the left.”

  Raquel released him. “Take care of Tiny. I’ll send someone back to help you.” She stood up and ran in the direction Specs had pointed. Rounding the corner, she saw a small group of leather-clad men down the street and hurried toward them, her dark eyes frantically searching for her husband. Faces turned toward her as she approached, and a couple moved aside, faces drawn and downcast.

  Raquel recognized Josiah’s bald head. He was propped up against a weathered wall, eyes closed. She slid to a halt beside him and grabbed one of his hands in both of hers. “Josiah? Baby, do you hear me?”

  His ragged breathing seemed to come as much from his chest as from his mouth. Raquel removed one hand from his and pulled his jacket away, revealing his red stained t-shirt. Blood bubbled from an ugly gash near the center of his chest. Raquel gasped at the sight of the wound. She had seen enough injuries in her life to know this was not a wound a person recovered from, especially out here in the middle of nowhere. She placed a gentle hand on her husband’s pale face. “Josiah? Baby?”

  Josiah’s breathing hitched, and his eyes opened to narrow slits. “Raquel?” To Raquel, his barely audible whisper was like music. At least she would be able to say good-bye.

  “I’m here, baby. Right here.” She wanted to be strong for him but couldn’t hold back the tears streaming down her face.

  “I…I had to…to do it, Raquel.”

  “Don’t talk, baby. Just rest.”

  Josiah’s hand tightened on hers. “Please…remember me.” His grip on her hand loosened as one last gasp slipped through his lips, then he lay still. With a sob, Raquel closed his eyes and pulled his lifeless form tight against her. Her body shook as she fought to hold back the pain and anger that threatened to tear her apart.

  A hand pressed down on Raquel’s shoulder. She looked up through blurry eyes to see Hank standing over her. “He saved us all, Raquel. We were cornered, panicking. But not Josiah. He stood strong. He went to the Father, and the Father answered. He died saving us and showing us the way out. Showed us his killer, too.”

  “His killer?” Raquel’s head snapped up. She had assumed Josiah’s wound had been inflicted by one of those monster’s tongues.

  “It was Lynx,” Hank said. “But not really.”

  “What are you saying?”

  The biker shook his head. “Don’t understand it myself. It was Lynx—then it wasn’t. Someone else in her place. Screamed all kinds of curses and stabbed Josiah. We got him, though.”

  Raquel cocked her head. Had Lynx killed Josiah or not? “Wait. You got him?”

  “Yeah. Lynx wasn’t really Lynx. An illusion, I guess, like most of whatever that was. Some guy in her place. We got him, though.”

  Her heart raced. “Alive? You got him alive?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up in a sad smile. “Yeah, he’s alive. We saved him for you.”

  Her pulse pounded even harder, the raw emotion of Josiah’s death replaced with white-hot fury. “Where?”

  THE SERPENT FELT a sharp sting on his face. He forced his eyes open but had a hard time focusing them. Blurred figures hovered over him. Another stinging smack rocked his head the other way. He blinked his eyes a few times. The right one cleared, but the left remained swollen shut. That reminded him of the boot that had sent him off into darkness. He groaned and tried to bring a hand to his aching head, but neither of his hands would move. Nor would his le
gs.

  “Wake up.”

  The Serpent locked his good eye on the woman that stood over him. Raquel. A flutter of fear coursed through him. She shouldn’t be here. None of them should be here. They should all be dead. Again, he struggled to move but found he was tied spread-eagle on the ground, his arms and legs able to move only inches. Raquel straddled him, one leather booted foot on each side of his chest, her long dark hair shadowing her face as she stared down at him. The Serpent wanted to lash out at this woman, destroy her where she stood, but he was helpless to do anything. His life was in her hands—a woman’s hands, and it made him feel like he was just a child again. He did not like that feeling.

  “Who are you?” she asked. Though her voice stayed calm, the Serpent could see rage in her eyes. He gulped to clear his dry throat.

  “I’m the Serpent, witch.” He did his best to sound unafraid but failed to convince even himself.

  “The Serpent, huh? Well, Mr. Serpent, you’re a long way from the Garden of Eden, but I bet you’ll fit right in back in that place we just came from.” Still her voice remained steady.

  “Let me go, witch. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” The Serpent pulled harder at his bindings. For the first time, he noticed he was tied to the motorcycles. He lifted his head for a better view. Ropes connected each arm and leg to a separate bike. A layer of sweat erupted over his body.

  The woman lifted her foot and placed her boot in the center of the Serpent’s chest. “You killed my husband, worm.” Keeping her foot planted on his chest, she bent down over him, arms crossed on top of her knee. The Serpent found himself gasping for air as her weight constricted his chest. “Now, tell me who you are.”

  He cussed her out, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. His helpless position was so foreign to him that the words escaped before he had a chance to stop them. Denizen was gone. His power was gone. He was just a normal guy, weak and alone.

  Raquel lifted her weight from the Serpent’s chest and spun around. “Do it.” She stalked away.

  RAQUEL FELT ALMOST sorry for the kid. Almost. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, but she couldn’t make herself care. He killed Josiah. He was going to die. Behind her, the massive Harley engines revved to life. She paused, not turning back but not moving away either. The punk who called himself the Serpent began to yell as the bikes pulled the ropes tight, lifting him off the ground. Reality must have settled in because he began screaming curses, most aimed at her. The engines revved again, nearly drowning out the screams, which turned from curses to howls of agony. The heavy scent of exhaust hung in the air.

  Raquel continued walking as the engines revved even louder, followed by the screeching of tires on the sandy asphalt. The screams of the Serpent fell silent.

  JOSIAH HOVERED ABOUT twenty feet off the ground, watching as the love of his life distributed her brand of justice. Josiah had known evil haunted the world. He felt he better understood it now. The human race was a mess, but they still had the power of free will. The invisible war that had raged since the creation of the first man continued, battle lines were drawn, and people chose sides. So many chose evil. Josiah took another look at his own dead body.

  “You find something wrong with Raquel’s justice?”

  Josiah smiled at the red-haired little girl who stood in mid-air a few feet away. “Not long ago I would have been right there cheering with the rest of them.”

  “And now?”

  “Now it just seems…wrong. The anger, the hate.” Josiah sighed. “Tell me, little miss, is justice overrated?”

  “Justice is for God, not humans. God has a much clearer view of the overall picture. He knows the hearts of each person.”

  “We’re Christians, followers of Jesus. We should be above this.”

  “Yes, you should. Keep in mind, however, that you were their spiritual leader, and you were taking orders from a demon. They were bound to be kind of messed up.”

  Josiah stared at the ground. “I was a fool, little miss.”

  “No Josiah, not a fool, just human.”

  Josiah turned back to Raquel, but she was no longer there. None of them were. The scene had changed, and Josiah now found himself standing on a narrow cobbled pathway that led through the greenest field he had ever seen. “She’ll be all right, won’t she? Raquel, I mean?”

  The little girl shrugged. “That’s beyond me, Josiah. But God has a plan for her, you can count on that.” She took a few steps toward him. “Speaking of plans, you played your part perfectly. No matter what happens, your life was what legends are made of.”

  Josiah felt a tear run down his face. Funny, he thought there weren’t supposed to be tears in heaven.

  “Oh, this isn’t heaven, but I’ll take you there. You will get a hero’s welcome.” Her little face lit up with her brilliant smile. “Of course, everyone who makes it to heaven gets a hero’s welcome.” Her form sparkled before him, stretching and growing until someone new stood there. The little girl was gone, and a shimmering being took her place, the red curls replaced by hair so pale and fluid it appeared almost an extension of the brilliant white robe she wore.

  “You…you’re…” Josiah couldn’t speak, nor could he tear his eyes away. “Beautiful. So beautiful,” he managed. He could have sworn the apparition blushed.

  “Thank you, Josiah.” She held out her perfect hand to him. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

  Sara pounded on the door, screaming for Kyle to let her out, but it proved futile. The door was locked tight, and if Kyle was still on the other side, he wasn’t responding. The wails that permeated the space grew in pitch and volume until Sara felt certain they were worming their way into her brain. She covered her ears with her hands, but the disembodied cries demanded her attention. She felt a light breeze rifle her hair as the sweet scent of death wrapped its cold arms around her.

  Knowing she would not leave the way she had come in, Sara turned to face this new corner of the unknown. It was impossible to discern the size of the room. Darkness stretched in all directions. Flashes of blue- and orange-tinged light lit seemingly random stretches of space before fading and popping up elsewhere.

  Sara swallowed her fear and forced herself to advance farther. The tortured shrieks grew even more desperate as the wispy tendons of death whipped around her. She wanted to run screaming from this awful place before it drove her mad. The inscription above the door had called this place the land of the dead, and Sara knew she did not belong here. Not yet. She had a strong feeling her life was driving the shrieking spirits to such frenzy. She had what they no longer did, and they wanted to take it from her.

  “Haunting, isn’t it?”

  Sara jumped at the voice. “Who said that?” Her eyes searched the darkness, her gaze pulled to each flash of light, but she saw no one.

  “Did you really think you could save the world? Be the hero?” The cries of the dead fell to low groans, mewling at the man’s words. “Did you really think you would be strong enough?” The voice grew closer, harsher. Sara spun, losing her sense of direction in the inky darkness.

  “Manasseh?” Sara whispered. What was Manasseh doing here? Had he discovered her plan and come to stop her? Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A flash of blue illuminated a human form standing not far from her. Sara pulled out her dagger and assumed a defensive stance. “You’ve destroyed everything I love, Manasseh. I won’t let you continue.” Even Sara thought her words sounded overly dramatic. Still, win or lose, she was determined to give everything she had—right up to her own life—to stop this evil from taking over the world.

  Manasseh waved a negligent hand toward her dagger. “You don’t really think you can stop me with that pitiful thing, do you? You’re such a stupid girl. Stupid and weak. My master imprisoned your beloved Eve here centuries ago, and you think a snip of a girl like yourself can change that? Do you even know what you would have to do to awaken Eve?” In a single strobe of light, Manasseh moved t
o stand mere feet in front of Sara. She could see a smile form on his lips and realized the room had grown brighter. “You don’t, do you? You’ve come all this way, gotten all your little friends killed, and you still have no idea what you’re doing. It’s so funny, it’s pathetic.”

  Sara felt her guts crawl inside her at the truth of his words. Her friends had followed her and were now all gone. And it was true: she really didn’t know what she was supposed to do, or even if it could be done. Was Eve real? She had been so certain, but in a matter of seconds Manasseh had managed to steal her confidence.

  She glanced at her surroundings, keeping Manasseh in her peripheral vision at all times. The space was more of a cavern than a room. What she could see of it appeared natural, not man-made. A cavern beneath the lake made sense, but how had the sunken castle come to be so seamlessly attached to it? Sara shrugged the question away. Why should things start making sense now? The flashes of blue and orange light still flickered throughout the cavern, but now something else glowed in the center of the room. She positioned herself so that she could see the object and keep Manasseh in clear view. It radiated an icy blue and hovered about six feet from the floor. Sara guessed the object itself to be maybe twelve feet tall, but its exact size was difficult to determine in the dim cavern. Dozens of shadows moaned and cried as they swarmed the light.

  “You feel her pull, don’t you, Sara? Eve calls you, just as she did your mother.”

  Sara did feel drawn toward the object. The light pulled at her.

  “Yes, they want Eve as well. There’s only one problem.” Manasseh chuckled.

  Sara knew he was baiting her, but she chose to bite. “Oh, and what problem is that?”

  Manasseh took a small step toward her, smiling like he was the bearer of some great joke. He leaned his head even closer to her and gestured toward the swirling shadows. “They’re dead,” he whispered before laughing again.

  Sara gazed at the mass of shadows, not quite able to make the connection toward which he was leading her.