Demon Fallout: The Return: A Michael Talbot Adventure

by Mark Tufo

  Sebastian said nothing for a moment. “Perhaps she had planned just this course.”

  “Naw. There’s easier ways to get rid of me. She could just let me cook breakfast or something, probably spill hot bacon grease on myself and fall into the oven. I don’t need elaborate, otherworldly scenarios to do me in.”

  “If you say so.”

  “What else? I feel like there’s more.”

  “Is that not enough? I just told you that you will terminate your physical presence and your soul will be trapped. This is a doomed attempt at salvation; surely even you must realize that? Not to mention it is conceivable that this entire thing is a set-up. I heard you talking to Azile about the deal you made. Does this not seem like something He would do to retrieve something for which He feels entitled to?”

  It was hard to argue that, but I did anyway. “You were in a trance or something when I got the message; there is no doubt in my mind it was Tommy that sent it. As for the other, he’s in it for the long game. How much sweeter would it be for him if he were to gather my soul after I’d tipped the scales in his favor? If I’d done such irreparable harm along the way that salvation could never be won?”

  “You are nearly too stupid to live. You were and are a vampire, a soulless one that has regained the unattainable. If ever He wanted a feather in that large cap of His, you would be it. You have been touched by the one God; you have been a valiant warrior in the grand-scale game of good versus evil. Perhaps He does not want to give you the chance to ascend.”

  I’d never done overly well with thinking out all aspects of any particular scenario. For some fucked up reason, I’d always believed over-thinking a problem was worse than diving in. Right now, though, this wasn’t about doing a bong hit followed by a shot of Jeff Daniels…or is it Jack? and a shotgunned beer. Which, by the way, put me on my ass, where I stayed for about ten minutes while I tried to regain my bearings. This was about my life. I was okay with putting that on the line for a family member—wasn’t the first time and I guarantee if I made it through it wouldn’t be the last. But that damned pesky soul…that was a whole other thing entirely. Death was finite and unavoidable; one second you were there, the next you weren’t. Just the way it has been since mortality reared its ugly head.

  That soul, though. Eternity would be making me its bitch, pretty much slapping me back and forth across the face with a wet salmon, bitch, for fucking ever. As much as I hated to admit it, Sebastian’s words had a clear peel of truth to them.

  I thought I knew what he would say if I asked, but again, I did anyway. For the most part, the answer was what I thought it would be, but for different reasons. “What would you do?” I asked.

  His cat-chuckle was disturbing. “I would not go. There is no chance of a successful mission here. There are no odds that could be swung in your favor that might help your endeavor; no amount of dumb luck can better those odds. You will be beyond your God’s help and beyond Azile’s, and once you cross that line, you and I become enemies.”

  “What?” That I was not expecting. “Aren’t we already?” I asked, looking for some humor; pretty much pancaked. Meaning it fell flat, if I wasn’t clear enough.

  “Even if you somehow miraculously found Tomas and his sister and managed to get them back to the gate, we could not and would not allow you back over.”

  “This isn’t some twisted cat humor, is it?”

  “As surprising as this may be, felines are not big on humor.”

  “Yeah, right shocker that is.”

  “Michael, this is not something to take lightly. When we fight back the demons that attempt to exit we do not know their intent, neither do we care. Each and every one that comes to that gate seeking a way out is met with unbridled and unrelenting fury. We have heard every deceitful plea spanning millennia untold. The gatekeepers are an integral part of the grand design. We have been tirelessly keeping vigilance; when we falter the world above pays greatly for our missteps.”

  “Ah ha! So, some have got past!” I saw a lifeline and was reaching for it.

  Sebastian sighed. “Five times since the dawn of this age we have failed. Three of those errors set free what your kind called an ‘anti-Christ,’ though what happens here far outdates that.”

  “Five times? So, it can be done.”

  “Yes, five times. Five times out of billions upon billions. You would have an easier time getting hit by a bus.”

  “How hard is that?”

  “There are no buses anymore.”

  “I didn’t know you were being literal. So…five, though. It can be done.”

  “NO! It cannot!” he yelled. “If you crossover, you will be gone forever. Those few that made it through had enormous resources at their disposal. An amassing of power so great we could not contain it. Even then they were barely able to succeed. You will have no allies there. It will be you against everyone and everything. The Lycan wars which nearly ended your existence numerous times? You had help. You were saved by others—others who risked their lives for you, for your cause. You will not be afforded that once you cross over.”

  “If I didn’t know better it would almost sound like you care about what happens to me.”

  “You are thicker than a slab of bacon. Something is happening here; I sense there is a reason you were called to this realm now of all times, and I’m afraid you may be some sort of trigger event that ripples outward.”

  “Like a disturbance in the force?”

  Sebastian didn’t understand the reference, I let it go. I was torn damn near in two. Tommy, my son, needed help—that much was beyond question. But he chose this path knowing the dangers, and he was much better equipped to handle them. He called upon me in full knowledge of my limitations; what the hell did he think I could do if even he couldn’t extract himself from this shitty situation?

  “Turn around, go home, find a way to cope with your grief. He is lost…forever.”

  I did start to turn, his words so convincing. “I can’t. He would do it for me.”

  “Then you are both fools that the world will not miss.” He stepped aside.

  I paused a handful of steps from the gate; a patrol of super-sized cats were milling about. A few glanced over and immediately dismissed me. They gave not one shit that I was sneaking into hell. I got the impression they figured I should already be in there.

  “Azile,” I said thinking desperately about my wife.

  “I am here.”

  “You knew?”

  “I did. Left to follow the voice of your own heart, I had thought perhaps you would find more reasons to stay amongst the living rather than venture among the dead.” She was choking up.

  “It’s family; I don’t have a choice in this matter.”

  “That I know as well,” she replied through a sob.

  “Is what Sebastian said true?”

  “I cannot help you once you cross over the dark veil; in that, yes.”

  “I love you, Azile, you know this. I love the kids. Please tell them every day for me.”

  “You just come back. Some way, somehow, Michael Talbot, you come back to me.”

  “I promise,” I told her as I took a step. With one foot I had crossed the imaginary line in the sand. The cats, which had seemed completely unconcerned with my presence, were now inching closer and watching intently. Some had even gotten down low in the classic ready to pounce stance.

  “Well, that’s pretty fucking unnerving. Is this what the end looked like for you buddy?” I was referring to my friend Paul, who had died a vicious death in a house full of starving cats.

  I was having a hard time convincing myself to put my right foot over.

  “I am here my love.”

  I almost pitched forward and fell back; I was rocked so hard by the words. And I know I did not imagine it; the cats were also looking around, some of them mewling—whether in anguish or ecstasy, I do not know.

  “Tracy?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Though you may not think so,
there are always reasons for the things you do; we can never see all ends. Trust in who you are and what you do, and I will be there for you.”

  “Where were those words when we were together?”

  I felt mirth, though I did not hear a laugh. “I was always there, though I did not always agree with you.”

  “I’m afraid, Tracy. I’m afraid we’ll never be together again and that is something I just cannot reconcile.”

  “Whatever you have been told, you are not alone, neither on this side nor beyond this gate. Be strong. Not all that wish you harm are mortal enemies.” And with that, I felt her leave as quickly as if she had been wrapped up in a soap bubble that had landed on a razor’s edge.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I asked as I absently stepped over, and for the second time in about a year, I was dead. I thought there’d be more fanfare; must be one of those things where it happens so often I’m getting desensitized.

  Chapter 5

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 5

  In terms of landscape, not much was different; it was like crossing over from Maine to New Hampshire. The big difference was where I was at and why I was there. And, oh yeah, the toll was much, much higher. Used to cost three bucks to cross that border; now it’s a life.

  “Not so bad,” I said as an assurance to myself. Those words took a major hit when I turned around. There was what looked like a hundred huge, feral cats on the other side, all looking directly at me like I had just opened a giant can of tuna. As if that weren’t a big enough issue, it was like I was looking at them through a glass shower door—one of those ones with the ripples in the glass that frustrated the hell out of me when I was a young teenager and the beautiful heroine in the movie stepped out of her towel as she stepped into the stall…when she closed that door you could barely make out she was human much less see any of those feminine attributes my hormones were starved for.

  “Once a jarhead always a jarhead,” I said as I steeled myself for something I was pretty sure was going to hurt. I reached out and pressed a finger against the strange rippled barrier. It may have yielded but I wasn’t sure, I’d been forced back pretty quickly. Not like I’d stuck a fork in a 240-volt outlet forced back, but there was certainly a repelling. That, and when I’d done it, the cats had gotten so close together, from my vantage point it looked like they were congealing. They were extremely agitated. I hovered around the barrier for a few minutes, now completely baffled as to what I should do. It had all seemed so clear in my head; cross the border that can’t be crossed, save Tommy, assuming he was in danger, cross back—a feat no one accomplishes, become alive again, and go home. I’m not sure why things don’t ever translate smoothly over into the real world, or whatever world I find myself trapped in.

  Movement on the other side of the curtain caught my attention. From the coloring, I was fairly certain it was Sebastian, and that was confirmed when he spoke, though, it sounded like one or both of us were underwater.

  “Do not linger at the gate, Michael. Just because something is trying to get out doesn’t mean it won’t take the time to stop and kill you,” he said.

  “I fucking hate this place.” I thought about waving to the big cat; didn’t figure he’d return the gesture. That was alright, confirming I had company in this world was still a thread to cling to; I didn’t want to walk in this place bearing solace. For what felt like a mile or so of walking I had my head down staring at my boots. I wanted to punch myself in the noggin for being so stupid. But fear and doubt had to be left behind; I needed to be irked or maybe even mad, to burn out the feelings of dread. I walked for a while, maybe even an entire day, possibly two. Saw nothing or nobody and as lonely as I was feeling it was better than the alternative.

  “You’re in enemy held territory, Talbot. You have no friends but you have a mission. Lift that dense head of yours and stop staring at the…” I was going to say “dirt” but it wasn’t. I reached down and grabbed a little; felt like rubber with maybe some cork mixed in. Not a bad surface to be treading on; kind of nice on the joints if I had to admit it. I was just picturing a long-ago playground that had something like this under the swings. Then something strange happened, stranger, I mean. Not much of a shocker, given my location. I didn’t think anything of it when some of the particles rolled out of my hand, but when some of them continued to roll when they hit the ground, that was when I figured another Bledgrum or something equally as large and terrifying was coming, causing the ground to quake. But that wasn’t it—not at all. It was the ground itself, like, the whole surface of the world. It was dropping away around me like we were negatively charged. I was sinking, but my feet were still standing atop a platform of the spongy material. It wasn’t like I was being swallowed up, exactly, more like a hole was being dug around me.

  I couldn’t see a scenario where this worked out in my favor. I was roughly knee deep in comparison to the rapidly rising rim around me when I started to move. The faster I ran the quicker the material moved away from me. I was losing ground faster than I could make it up, like climbing stairs in a nightmare. The rim had traveled halfway up my thigh and still, I pressed on. I was running in a blind panic now, as the world’s surface rose past my navel. In my ever-optimistic mind, I had two leading theories. The first was that once I was deep enough, all the material would come rushing back in and completely cover me in my own permanent plastic wrap. The second was that the hole would just continue to deepen and I would be forever stuck in a massive pit constructed solely for me. Both meant being buried alive, and having once experienced that, these outcomes held no allure for me. I knew it had to have an end, I mean, right? Otherwise, this would be all this shithole had to offer and I think I knew enough to realize that couldn’t be the case.

  “Think, Talbot. You’ve just hit some sort of quicksand field; it can’t be infinite.” What I didn’t tell myself was that it didn’t have to be endless at the pace I was losing height, it only needed to expand another mile or so wide to trap me here, and for all I knew there could be a continent's worth of this useless ground or whatever that shit was. I stopped, hoping to survey the area and gain some bearing. When I did, I noticed that the material slowed its pace as well almost so as not to disturb me; sneak up around me while I stood there thinking. I wonder how many poor, weary travelers awoke from a slumber to find themselves possibly a hundred feet down a well, drowning in some insidious substrate they’d assumed was stable.

  “What are the chances if I walk backward it will start filling in?” I walked a few steps in this manner, did not get the results I had been hoping for. The rim was up to my chest; it wasn’t going to be long until I lost the line of sight past the wall building up in front of me. Physics-wise this was an impossibility; I should have been able to climb up the wall, the hole should not move with me. Dammit, I knew I should have paid more attention in school. Maybe there was a chapter on weird anomalies. While I was looking around, dumbfounded, I noticed these black spots on the ground. In fact, the area was littered with them, like someone with huge golf cleats had just marched past. They were holes much like my own, and for good or bad, I was going to check them out.

  I was inclined to run, but I walked for a couple of reasons. First, the material moved away slower, sort of like that running in the rain thing. The faster you run, the wetter you get. I never really understood that, I mean, sure, you catch raindrops you may have missed if you were going slower, but what about the ones you avoided? I dismissed that fact as myth until I started driving. I’d been in rain showers where I had to stop the wipers at a red light, but once I got the car rolling along, I’d need the wipers going at speed. I forced myself to move slower but my heart kept picking the pace up—being buried alive, I think, is at the top of just about everyone’s biggest fears, and I certainly wasn’t the exception to that rule. By the time I got to the closest hole, I was about neck deep. In hindsight, I should have felt at ease; that’s about where I’d been the majority of my life, neck deep in trouble, I mean. I know�
�I know—fairly obvious punchline, not sure why I felt the need to elaborate. I ramble when I’m terrified out of my wits.

  I paused, forcing my heart to slow down before it forced me to stop altogether. Whatever trick or spell was going on, it would not allow the two holes to merge. Close, like maybe the thickness of a finger, but that was it. I dug into the wall and my hand was met with something that no longer felt like rubber but was harder, significantly more unyielding. I took out my axe and tapped, lightly, at first and was rewarded with a firm knocking sound, as if I were tapping on wood. This was all good, but I had a feeling force wasn’t the answer and that if I tried to hack my way through, all I would succeed in doing would be to dull or possibly break my only weapon. Not sure it would matter at this point. I peered over the lip of my hole and down into the next. Whatever or whoever had been down that pit of despair was no longer in view. I got at least one question answered and you know what? Sometimes it’s better to stay ignorant.

  It didn’t appear that the holes had any limit to the depths they could go; of course, I had no way of knowing what depth that might be. The bottom seemed lost in the inky depths of hell; it could have gone for miles. Knowing what I do about sinister phenomena, the hole most likely stops digging itself once its host dies. Not sure what I’d hoped for when I got to this neighboring hole, maybe an ally? Someone to commiserate? Got neither. I shouted down into the abyss then tilted my head listening, naively, for anything in return. However, in addition to the material being all around douche-like, it had a sound absorbing quality that had me thinking my yell hadn’t traveled more than ten feet or so. This place would make an ideal practice spot for a heavy metal garage band. I shrugged and did the only thing I could think to; I slogged on to the next hole, which wasn’t more than a couple of hundred yards away.

  What sucked was that by the time I got there I could no longer see out of my own hole unless I looked straight up, and all that view gave me was of a darkness I guessed was some sort of sky, though I could not see anything celestial there. I jumped up to grip the lip of my hole. I found that if I pressed-off rather than pushed-off I could gain a slight spring. I hung at the top and could see into a shallow basin, well, more of a dent in the surface…I mean this thing wasn’t much deeper, or as wide across, as an office trashcan.