by Michael Todd
Calvin shook his shoulder lightly to try to wake him. He leaned over and listened to the Leviathan’s chest.
Brock stood there concerned. “Did he…”
Calvin shook his head. “No. He just fell into a coma, I think.”
Calvin jumped when Juntto’s body began to morph. He grew longer, his skin forming cold blue scales. He was reverting to his original twelve-foot form.
Calvin stepped back and watched the change. “He sacrificed himself to save me, then did the same for Katie. I never in a million years thought he would be as loyal as he has become. I guess everyone needs a family to show them the right way.”
Brock sighed. “I saw the recognition in his face when he jumped me at the incursion. I could see the pain in his eyes when he thought he hurt me. He cared about all of us. He was wild, and that was hard for us to understand.”
Calvin looked up at everyone standing around. “Maybe this is how he heals.”
“We don’t have a big enough space for him in the barracks, but we can at least try to make him comfortable here.” Brock gestured to his team, and Eddie, Sean, and Turner grabbed blankets from a medic’s cart.
Brock spread out the first blanket and the others followed suit, layering them over his body. The captain walked down and handed Brock two pillows. Brock and the others knelt next to the sleeping giant and lifted his head, gently laying it back down on the pillows. Calvin stood up and looked around at the soldiers. “I will say this one time, and one time only. This was a brave man. He saved my life tonight. He saved Katie’s life tonight. And he damn sure saved yours, even if you don’t know it. If I see one video of him making the rounds on the internet, letting the world know he is alive, I will make it my life’s work to hunt down whoever took it. Let him rest and try to get through this in peace.”
Calvin looked down at the silver streak in the frost giant’s hair. “I think we owe him that at least.”
Exactly one week had passed since the deadly portals opened in Massachusetts, setting in motion a plan that would change the way the world looked at the war. Things had been crazy since, with media, news, and riots across the country. People tried to make sense of something as insane as invading hell.
On that particular day, though, things were different.
All across New York City, the cars stood still. Tourists didn’t crowd the streets. Vendors closed down their carts for the day. In the center of Times Square, the Jumbotron stayed on without advertisements, and people sat quietly in chairs in the middle of the road, watching coverage of the event on screen.
Flags at half-mast waved in the fall breeze. The sound of fabric flapping filled the streets, something that those streets probably had never heard and would never hear again. This day in New York was for the heroes, and no one was going to step out of line for that.
But it wasn’t just New York; the heroes were being celebrated all across the country.
Tractors sat still in the late-afternoon light. Toys were idle in yards, and parks were completely deserted. Bars were open, but there was no joyous music or loud conversation, just the television tuned to the memorial service.
From small town to big city, valleys to mountaintops, and coasts to islands, the entire nation stopped to remember what they had lost, and why it was so important. People sat together regardless of creed, nationality, sexual orientation, or any other triviality.
They put aside their differences, put aside their red hats and blue hats, set down their protest signs and stilled their hateful chants, and just sat side by side, thinking about what was and what would come to be.
There was a stillness in the realization that humanity was all one race, all one species, and all one kind. It had taken an event of massive proportions to bring that realization to the fore, but when it did come, the country saw peace for one shining moment. All around the condo where Katie lived, people sat cross-legged in the streets holding candles in their laps. The doorman had locked the doors to keep people out, but no one tried to enter.
The hall leading to Juntto’s and Katie’s apartments was absolutely silent. No yelling or cursing, no laughter or tears, and no smell of bacon or donuts wafting out. The remote sat on the coffee table with the television off, and the radio was shut down. The kitchen was empty.
Angie walked quietly through the hall, her black dress perfectly fitted and pressed for the occasion.
She went to the windows and looked out over the park. She wondered if things would have been different if she had been there. She had never lost anyone she cared about, even if she didn’t know it at the time.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind caught her by surprise, and she turned, wiping a tear from her cheek. Calvin walked over with a smile and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the top of the head. He rubbed her arms and pulled back, looking into her eyes. “You ready to go? They will be waiting for us.”
Angie nodded and let out a deep breath. She followed Calvin, shutting the lights off as she left. They rode a short distance to Madison Square Garden, and the chauffeur helped her from the car. They were ushered through the quiet halls into the grand area at the back. As they stepped down the walkway, the people in the seats turned to them. Angie stared ahead, her heart broken.
In front of her were twelve beautiful caskets draped with American flags. Katie stood at the podium and silently nodded as they entered. Angie nodded back and moved to one side, sitting down next to Calvin. Perched on the top of each of the caskets was a picture of the fallen soldier. Most of the pictures were of them in uniform, but a couple were images from their everyday lives. The casket on the end had a strange picture. It was not a man in uniform, but it wasn’t exactly of a man at home and at ease either.
The picture made Angie chuckle through her tears. She held a tissue in front of her mouth.
On top of the last casket was the insert from the Far Cry Four video game case. It was Juntto’s last disguise.
Angie whispered to the picture, “Goodbye, asshole. I’ll be beating your scores on Halo.”
Baal sat back in the huge armchair in Moloch’s lair, sipping a glass of whiskey and smoking a cigar. He had never been in that chair before, but it felt good. It felt right. He blew smoke rings high over his head before reaching over and popping a toy poodle in his mouth. He chomped away, leaning back and enjoying the sound of jazz playing on the record player in the corner. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been that relaxed. It had probably been before the whole taking over Earth nonsense had arisen.
He tapped the cigar in an ashtray and looked over as a servant entered with a tray. Baal took off the lid and inhaled deeply. A whole roasted human head sat on the platter. The top of the head had been sawed off and replaced, making it a sort of lid. Baal lifted it up and inspected the boiled brains inside. They were peppered to perfection, with slices of orange and lemon on top.
He put the lid back on and nodded. “That’s perfect. Just set it on the table. Service for one, please.”
The servant bowed and scurried off. Baal put his cigar in the ashtray and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. The light from the fire of souls caught his attention, and he bent down, looking at the writhing bodies inside. “Well, hello there. Bet you are just dying for someone to torture you. Sorry I have been preoccupied lately.”
He laughed, patting his belly as he made his way to the window and looked out over hell. The chaos from the fight had ended and all the demons were back to their daily grinds, collecting souls and bringing them back to hell. Business had been slow after the deaths of all of those humans, everyone beginning to mind their bibles. Baal knew it wouldn’t last forever, though. It never did. Humans were like clocks. They would go through something traumatizing, but a few weeks later they’d forget all about the sins they had promised never to commit again.
The only thing that made Baal nervous was the silence from the top. Lucifer hadn’t said a word to anyone, and all meetings had been canceled. He had stayed
locked up in his lair deep below, where the fires burned the hottest. Baal couldn’t remember that happening since Lilith had run away. Even then, he’d snapped out of it long enough to torture a few humans. He shrugged, figuring that this too would pass and eventually things would get back to normal.
He stood next to the head of the table for a moment, his hand on the massive chair. He was about to sit when a deep bellowing roar stopped him. “Baal!”
Baal jumped away from the table, sighed, and lumbered over to a great door. He stopped at the doorway and straightened, then took a deep breath and put on his most pleasant smile.
A small servant demon scrambled across the floor, gathering dirty gauze and sutures. He glanced up at Baal, sweat pouring from his scaled forehead. He yelped and ran from the room.
Baal shook his head and approached the huge bed. “You can’t keep scaring away all the servants. You need someone to take care of these wounds. Look, you screwed up the sutures on your arm again.”
The creature in the bed growled. Moloch’s scales were cracked and bleeding; his whole body had been crisped by the explosion, and his right arm was gone. He groaned in pain. “What does it matter? She took my good arm. You know I am useless with my left hand. And look at this ridiculous gash. The angelic magic is just not allowing it to heal. Not to mention the missile that blew a hole in my damn thigh. I look like parts of a fucking demon.”
Baal chuckled as he picked up the gauze and began wrapping Moloch’s arm. “I told you that you shouldn’t have gone down there. You weren’t ready for it.”
Moloch huffed. “Do you always have to be so right about everything? You are supposed to tell me I will get better and be eviler than ever.”
Baal smiled. “Of course you will. That is just how you are made. I told you there was a good chance your arm might grow back in a few centuries, and until then we can get you a badass metal one. Won’t that be nice?”
Moloch pouted. “I don’t want to be a fucking robot. I want my limbs. That fucking bitch set me up. Thank God I jumped when I did. I only took half the force of that blast. If I had just stood there like an asshole, the shrapnel would have taken off all my limbs. Then where would I be? I’d be a goddamn chicken nugget.”
Baal tried to hide his laughter. “No, those are brown and crunchy. You are scaly and black.”
Moloch’s eyes darted toward Baal. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you? You are enjoying running my position right now. I bet you don’t want me to get better.”
Baal furrowed his brow. “That’s not nice, Moloch. I have been a trusted and true friend to you all these centuries. I would never do such a thing. Besides, your job doesn’t interest me. I am happy with what I do. I am only holding your place until you return so no one can claim your spot on the board.”
Moloch looked remorseful. “I’m sorry, Baal. I’m just so… Ugh. I sit here day after day, trying to heal as best I can. Meanwhile, I’m stuck either watching replays of the battle, including my arm scene, or the funeral that is happening today.”
Baal’s eyes lit up. “That’s something to be happy about, right? We finally killed Juntto. He has been a hard one to nail down all these years. I was afraid that with him joining Lilith, we might never take him down.”
Moloch shook his head. “I guess, but I’d rather be watching Lilith’s and Katie’s damn funeral. Have you heard any word from our master?”
Baal shook his head. “No, but that’s a good thing. Give him time to simmer after everything. Something will happen, and he will forget all about you and your…uh…mishap.”
Moloch snarled. “It wasn’t my mishap. It was the fucking humans’ mishap. They brought that drama here.”
Baal clicked his tongue. “You know that someone will have to pay the price for it. At least, that’s how it usually works. But fear not—no news is good news, at least down here.” Baal finished the wrap and looked at the other wounds, which were already cared for. He washed his claws in a bowl of water on the dresser and dried them off, then sat down next to the bed.
Moloch clenched his remaining fist and growled. “I swear, one day I am going to make that bitch pay. She is going to find herself so deep in hell she will never get out. I would kill her, but nothingness is too good for her. She deserves to suffer for an eternity in the pits. I am so angry, Baal. I can’t wait to get out of this bed and find that bitch in the street. I will take her down when she is least expecting it.”
Baal opened his mouth to talk but stopped when he heard a knock on the door. He sat up straight in his chair. An elaborately dressed demon strolled in, the insignia on his cloak sending a shiver through Baal.
The demon walked over and laid an envelope on Moloch’s bed, then cleared his throat. “Lucifer would like to see you…right away.”
The messenger bowed his head and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Baal watched Moloch closely, wondering if he was going to blow. Moloch’s face twitched slightly, and he let out a growl. “Great, I’ll just hop my way down to the deepest level of hell so I can be tortured for eternity. I’m going to get that bitch if it’s the very last thing that I do. Mark my words. I will do it.”
“I don’t know,” admitted the scientist, looking at the strange-looking alien in the freezer. He turned to the woman next to him. “You’ve got connections. Why don’t you ask someone from up above?” he asked as he pointed a finger toward the ceiling.
The woman nodded, “That asshole Gabriel owes me a few answers for all the shit I’ve been through. I’ll see if he knows anything we can do to save him. It’s the least I can do.”
She walked out, and the scientist sighed. He was itching to dissect the alien, but he knew that if he so much as cut one hair off the great blue body without her permission, he might find his dick cut off and rammed up his ass without lube or pain medication.
And that was just what her demon had threatened to do.
He closed the special vault and checked the settings. The thing would stay frozen. The body would be kept safe.
FINIS
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
September 13, 2018
Before I explain what is going on, let me say THANK YOU for not only reading this book, but these author notes, as well!
Today is Wednesday, and I had lunch with a LONG time fan Heath Felps (Go Navy!) and two of his friends (Aaron Colantino and Brendan Gillespie. One has probably read MORE of my stories than Heath (according to Heath), and one is a complete newb. Fortunately, they enjoyed Jessie Rae’s and we have successfully impressed Mike (the owner) with the fandom’s efforts to come into his shop ;-). As a note, I refuse to out who had not read my books. I’m cool that way (lol).
Mike (of Jessie Rae’s) says to tell everyone interested, that they are SO close to having God Sauce available for purchase… they hope.
Below is a duplicate from another author note (TUMB 11) – HOWEVER – it is important for those who enjoy Fan Pricing (it explains the whole story. For those who have read it already, I’d be curious to read (in the reviews you place on Amazon, OR just send to me in the Protected by the Damned Facebook Group (group, not page) what you think should happen in the future with the stories.
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael
--- FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ THIS IN BROWNSTONE #11 ---
LMBPN has set this BHAG (big hairy audacious goal) of releasing four hundred titles next year. To make this happen, we had to get cracking and bang a few brain cells together to figure out how to streamline our process.
Which, you know, was probably said last year, but I didn’t FEEL like being responsible last year. As the owner of this company, I didn’t want to be told when I had to have stories in. The whole concept made the obstinate part of my personality stand up and try to figure out who to flip off. (Editor’s note: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Serves you right.)
In the end, I had to give myself the finger.
Way to fuck yourself over, Michael.
Why? Because it�
��s one thing to have two or three (at most) books coming out in a week. But, when we started doing full weeks of books (well, five days, not weekends) the challenges exposed themselves.
One of the issues is fan pricing. How do we continue the pricing while reducing the effort? With four hundred books we have a LOT more to do, and emails are a serious time and effort suck. We already send too many.
FAN PRICING ON SATURDAYS
We are moving to releasing our books at $3.99 (a $1.00 less than regular price) during the week, then on Saturdays pricing all new releases (except box sets) at $0.99 for that day only. On Sunday, they go up to regular price.
This way you always know what day to look, and we are able to send two emails during the week focused on book releases. One on Sunday / Monday that announces what books are coming out (and when) for those who (for whatever reason) care, and then again on Saturday with the books and the links to the Amazon website (we don’t always have these a week before.)
We are HOPING to put more content on the LMBPN Publishing website about interesting stuff that might apply to you (including games, Anime, backstory on stories and authors, etc.) When we get this working, we will start releasing a special Wednesday email to highlight our blog posts.
[Note from Steve: We’re starting to post new content already. If you haven’t checked out the site, please do so, www.lmbpn.com]
Soon, I will be reducing my Author Notes in the back of collaboration books. There is no freaking way I can put out five-hundred-word (or more) Author Notes in the back of four hundred books. So, my plan is to do a Mad-Libs sort of deal where the core is consistent, and I can add in one or two unique items and see how that goes.
Making 2019 happen at four hundred books is a mountain-type goal for me. I suspect in 2020 we will reduce the number of books released as we use what we learned in 2019 to cut the chaff.