Seconds before he would have been immersed in the deadly cloud, Brian entered the secret stairway and closed the fake wall behind him. He stood there for nearly a minute, debating with himself about his decision to follow Zeus’ order. Either the god was certain he would survive the assault, or he was sacrificing his life to save him. Brian shut his eyelids and took a couple deep breaths, but ultimately chose to do as he was commanded.
***
The climb to the pinnacle of the spire seemed as if it would never end. A few times, Brian felt like he was climbing a stairway to the heavens. When he had reached the uppermost chamber that Zeus had told him about and barricaded himself inside using the sturdy wooden brace on the door, he took a moment to enjoy the breathtaking view. There didn’t appear to be a ceiling in the room. The circular walls of stone extended upward from the floor for approximately three feet, almost like a safety rail, then turned sheer. It seemed as if there was an enormous, glass bubble that sat upon the top edge of the parapet, but it was hardly the most impressive feature of the secret room. When Brian walked to the edge of the chamber to gaze out, the billowing clouds of the sky were below him! It would seem that he had indeed climbed to the heavens! Nothing but blue sky and the bright yellow orb of the sun was above him.
He tried to peer down toward the ground, but had to wait for a break in the blanket of white. When the clouds parted enough to give him a brief view, it was like a giant gazing at an ant on the ground. The dusty soil far below was dotted with black specks, none of which appeared to be moving, although from this distance it was impossible to tell. No sound permeated the glass-like dome, so it was an experience similar to a sensory deprivation tank. He forced a couple of words from his lips, just to assure himself that his senses were indeed working and that this wasn’t all a dream. Brian sighed with relief when he heard the words fall from his tongue, but his contentment was short-lived.
As he peered to the north and saw the great sea that separated these lands from the continent where Edward had once called home, he couldn’t help thinking about his lost friends. Most had perished in a violent manner from this world and Brian had been helpless to stop it. For a moment, he pushed them from his mind and forced himself to consider Zeus. The mighty King of the Gods had yet to ascend the tower, which made him come to the conclusion that the entity was yet another casualty he would be cursed to live with for as long as he drew breath.
Since everyone Brian cared about was dead, he hoped he wouldn’t again be cursed … and be forced to live a long life of solitude. Outside of remaining in the tower for the rest of his life, however long that may be, the only other place he would consider spending his final days was in Elysia. He didn’t know anyone there, if the town still stood, but at least there might be a chance to have a somewhat normal life. He sighed once more. It was all wishful thinking, probably brought about by the euphoria of the view from where he stood. There would be no happy ending for him unless Zeus miraculously survived. The extended period of time that Brian had been alone in this room suggested otherwise. In all likelihood, it meant zombies would soon overrun Desolace as they had Earth … and he’d be trapped in the spire for the rest of his days.
Chapter 26
As George stepped through the dimensional rift the shouts of the shaman faded into oblivion. In a brilliant flash of light, the portal he’d just walked out of made a brief, suction-like noise then vanished. Unless the gods intervened, he would no longer be forced to deal with the strange world of Desolace anymore. No looking over his shoulder to see the Black Knight’s mechanical creations bearing down on him, threatening to tear him to shreds. For that matter, the dark entity himself was no longer a concern. Good riddance! He was stupid to allow the demon to manipulate him in the first place. Not that it had been the first occasion he’d permitted such a thing, but the demons of Earth were far tamer in his opinion and much easier to control.
His lips widened into a broad grin when he realized just how fortunate he’d been to escape the parallel world. The feeling didn’t last long, however. As the elation of his successful exit from Desolace began to wear off, he gazed at his surroundings. Zeus was supposed to have opened a portal to Misty Hollows, his hometown, but at this point he couldn’t tell if the god had duped him. The only thing he saw within the limits of his vision was trees, trees, and more trees. The god had dumped him in the middle of an expansive forest, it would seem. Having full control over Edward’s body now, he moved the wizard’s lips and mumbled a curse. George peered toward the midday sun, which filtered through the leafless branches overhead, directing the obscenities to the sky as if Zeus might actually hear the words.
Once his tirade had run its course, he chose a direction and started walking. Eventually he would have to step out of the woods into civilization, right? The forest couldn’t possibly be endless. Hell, he was kind of surprised that trees still stood in the Earth of the future. George had almost half expected to see a concrete jungle of buildings dotting the landscape when he exited the portal. He would have assumed it would be a necessity, what with the ever rising population of the planet. It forced him to wonder if people like himself had managed to keep the world from overpopulating. Killers were good for such things, whether people wanted to admit it or not.
After traveling for approximately fifteen minutes, the deafening crunch of dead leaves beneath his feet had become maddening, but thankfully it didn’t look like the annoying sound would last much longer. George could see an end to the forest, and with it the first signs of civilization! A short distance away, there seemed to be an old, rundown farmhouse. He was surprised by the appearance of the structure. He had expected the buildings of the future to look different, more high tech. If this was indeed Misty Hollows, then it gave him the impression of a town that time forgot.
As he got closer, the home tugged a string of familiarity in his mind. Despite the fact that the house looked as if half of it had collapsed, the relic of the past seemed to call to him. The vague notion of having been here before was almost overpowering. When he stepped out of the woods and walked the perimeter of the dwelling, he knew why. It was the Johnson homestead! The pain-in-the-ass teen girl who’d attempted to turn him in to the police had once lived here, although he’d finally gotten his retribution when he strangled the life from her, moments before his escape from Desolace. Just the memory of the light fading from her eyes brought him joy. If only he’d been able to do the same to the girl’s blonde friend. Well, at least he would finally be able to return to his home. If he could be thankful for nothing else, there was that. It would just be a matter of time before he could pick up where he left off, who knows how many years ago. Surely no one would expect his killings to start up again after such a lengthy hiatus.
First things first, though. George could tell by the trembling of the wizard’s appendages that he required rest. As a spirit, he didn’t have to concern himself with such things, but since he resided inside of a living human shell he would have to submit to stuff like that from time to time. Otherwise, the vessel he used would become worthless. In light of this fact, George turned away from the broken husk of the Johnson home and headed for his own. Hopefully it was in a better state of repair.
***
Apparently his old house was without power, and looked like it had been that way for a very long time. Everything in the home was coated in layers of dust and cobwebs. It was so thick upon the floors, in fact, that it had been like walking through snow drifts just to get to his old bedroom. His sanctuary of slumber was no different. Although he didn’t care about the comfort of the wizard, he began to brush the filth from the bed to clear a spot. Frustrated by the length of time it was taking, George grabbed a corner of the blanket that sat on the mattress and lifted it in hopes of speeding the process. The threadbare fabric disintegrated in his hand, causing a brief burst of expletives to stream from Edward’s mouth.
George wasn’t sure why he’d allowed such a trivial thing to upset him. He didn’t giv
e a rat’s ass if the wizard was comfortable or not, so long as he lay motionless somewhere to rejuvenate his tired muscles. With that in mind, he flopped down on the mattress. A huge cloud of dust puffed into the air, causing the man to cough and gag. When the debris finally settled, he locked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He would wait until the sun no longer penetrated the grimy bedroom window, then test the strength of the body. More than anything, George wanted to gaze upon the secret chamber he’d built in the basement. If he intended to put the room to use once more, he’d probably have to do some considerable cleaning.
***
The hours passed excessively slow with nothing to do except stare vacantly at the ceiling. The respite had, however, given George ample time to consider all of the things he planned to do now that he’d returned home. Although he knew that his dungeon needed to be prepared before he could embark on the finer things, the foremost motivation in his mind was getting back to his killing ways. It had been far too long since he’d been able to indulge his inner monster. The beast within was never silent, always clamoring for attention like a hungry child.
The sun had nearly set, the feeble light which penetrated the grime-encrusted window cast a dull, shadowy hue over the room. Up and at ’em, he jokingly interjected into what remained of the wizard’s consciousness. Not that Edward had any say over what George forced his body to do. He rose to his feet, extending his arms high overhead to stretch the muscles which had been dormant for hours. The sorcerer struggled to regain control, wishing Brian was here to aid in the expulsion of the foul spirit. Once again, his efforts met with failure. Helplessly, he watched his limbs betray him as George left the bed chamber and descended the stairs to the first floor.
When George entered his old study he noted that very little had changed in his absence. It was as if time had stood still when he’d left for Desolace. Obviously it hadn’t. Otherwise, the dust of passing centuries would not be coating everything. He walked toward the bookshelf he had constructed to serve as a secret doorway to his inner sanctum, noting that it was already slid partially open, almost like the power had gone out before it could completely close. George hesitated briefly, realizing it wasn’t the only explanation for the entrance being ajar. Was someone else inside the house with him? He glanced down at the grime-covered floor and saw no indication of trespass, so quickly dismissed the idea. Even so, it was second nature which drove him to tread lightly. Moving as silently as he could, George squeezed through the opening.
Upon entering the passage, he stopped for a few seconds to listen for any subtle noises that might tell him he wasn’t alone. After detecting nothing, George continued down the stone steps. His footfalls were cushioned by the thick layer of dust that had found its way into the stairway, but made his footing a bit more treacherous. The steps were steeper than he remembered. Coupled with the increasing darkness as he descended, occasionally it caused a slightly misplaced booted foot to slip on the surface. Not enough to make him fall, but his balance teetered once or twice before reaching the bottom of the staircase.
It was so dark on the lower landing that George considered returning upstairs. He had to feel around just to locate the outer door to his sanctuary. George pushed the thought of retreat from his mind, recalling that there was a hearth down here. If he could find it, hopefully there was still some wood nearby and a lighter. It was a stretch that such things could be in here after all of these years, but it was possible. In order to reach the fireplace he had to first pass through the inner door, then use his hand as a guide by running it along the wall. He would have to traverse the outer edge of the room to get there. So long as no obstacles lay on the floor like forgotten relics of days gone by, he guessed it would take around ten minutes.
Although the painstaking shuffle of his footfalls made progress slower than he would have liked, eventually he stumbled upon the hearth. George knelt down in front of the fireplace and felt around. He quickly discovered a few pieces of wood, but it took considerably longer to locate a means to light a fire. Just as his fingertips brushed across an object that could potentially be his salvation, a brief rustling clink of chain echoed throughout the chamber. His head whipped toward the sound. There was no way a breeze could have filtered down from upstairs to cause such a commotion, so who or what could have done it? To this point it was the only sound he’d heard down here, other than the scuffing of his own feet.
When the noise didn’t repeat itself, he turned back to the task at hand. It’s probably a rat, his mind insisted. The thought had merit. After all, the house didn’t look like it had entertained any guests since he departed for Desolace. A couple centuries worth of abandonment would surely not have escaped the notice of rodents. George ran his thumb over the wheel of the disposable lighter. Several times it produced an ineffective spark, but nothing else. He almost gave up hope that it would ever light when a tiny flame finally emerged, and he’d nearly lifted his finger from the button to make the next attempt. Thankfully his thumb hadn’t come completely off of the little red toggle.
George resisted the urge to use the feeble glow to gaze toward the area he suspected the chain rattle to have come from and instead slowly moved the flickering incandescence toward the firewood. The aged timbers were so dry that they immediately burst into flame. The conflagration quickly grew, casting the room in a light that was nearly as bright as full daylight. The scent of burning wood rapidly replaced the dank, unpleasant musty odor which had previously hung in the air like an oppressive blanket of rot. In minutes he was forced to back away from the hearth, despite how much enjoyment he might have gotten from watching the wizard’s flesh smolder. Since he was now using Edward’s body as a disguise, it would be foolish to mar the skin. He needed the meat suit he wore to be at least somewhat attractive, lest his new victims find him hideous enough to stay away from.
Briefly, George became lost in his thoughts, relishing the possibilities of hunting on familiar ground once more. The sound of rattling chains broke the silence again, drawing him out of his head. Expecting to see a half starved rodent nearby, he glanced toward the commotion. A shocked gasp passed from his lips as he laid eyes on an unexpected surprise. Dangling from the bindings he’d contrived long ago was a nude woman, albeit a downright ugly one. She might have had a body worthy of catching his attention at some point in her miserable life, but it was far from that now.
The chained woman was beyond repulsive, her withered body suggesting that she’d been bound in the cellar for decades. Despite what most women think, being thin is not all that attractive. Especially when they take it to extremes. Personally, I prefer a little meat on the bones. He chuckled at the thought. “Sorry, honey. The emaciated look isn’t in fashion anymore.” As his jibe echoed through the room, the woman stirred slightly in her bindings. However, she didn’t appear to have the strength to lift her head. George was thankful for that. If her body was in sad shape, surely her face wouldn’t make her any more attractive. Likely, it would only serve to heighten his disgust. Each moment that passed, the temptation to end her pathetic existence mounted. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was how she’d gotten down here in the first place. Was it possible that he’d left a captive chained up down here when he departed for Desolace? He quickly dismissed the notion. Certainly someone else had been in his house while he was away because it seemed impossible that the wretched female had been here for centuries. If she’d been here that long she would be nothing more than a pile of bones and dust, or mummified like a giant stick of jerky.
The woman groaned, the sound of which carried to George as if it was a plea for death. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. “Fine. I’ll end your suffering, but only because it sickens me to look at you.” As he stood mere inches behind her, not wanting to gaze upon her face, the stench of rotten flesh washed over him like projectile vomit. George raised his hands to circle her throat, leaning forward to whisper his merciful good-bye in her ear.
Catching him completely off guard, the woman twisted her neck beneath his grip. There was an obscene crack as her head rotated one hundred and eighty degrees to face him. He had been correct in his assumption. She was, without a doubt, the ugliest woman he’d ever lain eyes on. Her cheeks sagged so badly that the flesh was tearing away from the underlying musculature and blood trickled from the exposed sinew like crimson tears.
Even though he had been accurate about how hideous she would be, actually seeing her glazed and bloodthirsty eyes staring back at him shocked George for a couple of seconds. The moment of hesitation came to be one he would later regret. The woman used the opportunity to lunge forward, sinking her decayed teeth into his neck. The pain brought him back to reality, but it was already too late. She jerked her head back. A large chunk of Edward’s neck swayed from her jowls. A jet of crimson sprayed from the open wound like a fountain of blood. Already, George could feel the life force fading from the wizard. It seemed he was seconds away from losing the disguise he’d worked so hard to get, and if the foul woman before him was any indication … it didn’t appear to be likely that he’d find another meat suit to inhabit. At least, not one that still drew breath.
The vile thing before him vaguely reminded George of the films he’d enjoyed watching so long ago. Apparently, the zombie apocalypse was more than just make-believe. It was real, and the evidence stood in chains right in front of him. There was, however, a subtle difference between this woman and the undead he’d seen on the movie screen and it had nothing to do with make-up or special effects. In this instance, it seemed that the creature before him was not only infected with a deadly virus, but possibly under the control of a demon. How else could you explain the way she’d turned to face the opposite direction with the twist of her neck? Linda Blair had nothing on this woman.
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