Redemption of the Dead

by A. P. Fuchs

  The trek to the aircraft was long and it got worse as they had to enter into the dust cloud. They kept to the peripheral as long as possible so they could see clearly and breathe better, then had to press in by the Canada Revenue office on Broadway. She told them before they left that it’s not like they’ll get to the plane, show their tickets and settle in for an in-flight movie. If anything, they’d be going there to hide out. The plane had been emptied when they landed, everyone taking up arms. Billie decided to try the plane’s radio once on board.

  Gunshots went off behind her then the sound of someone yelling. She turned the mech around to see Joe crouched over the Asian girl, four dead zombies lying around her. Joe glanced up at her and slowly shook his head.

  Even though she never knew her, Billie’s heart ached for the loss.

  Emerging out of the dust, a Jetlier cut in front of her.

  “Sven?”

  The hatch opened and it was him.

  Suddenly filled with excitement, Billie opened her cockpit, but stayed inside in case her guns were needed.

  “Guten tag, fräulein,” Sven said.

  She smiled, too happy to say anything. She noticed the Jetlier was covered in blood and goopy, gray flesh.

  He walked up to her and held out his hand. She took it. “Are you okay?”

  She could kiss him. “I’m okay. Are you?”

  With a wink he said, “Fine on outside, not fine on inside.”

  “I know, sweetie. I’m so so sorry for your brother.”

  Tears glazed over his eyes. “Danke.”

  Joe came up. “Who’s this?”

  Roles now reversed, she said, “Joe, this is Sven. I met him in Austria.”

  “You met him in . . .” Joe’s words came out slowly.

  “Just say hi,” Billie said.

  Joe stuck out his hand and Sven swallowed it with his own.

  “Guten tag.”

  “Guten—” He looked at Billie. “You were in Austria?”

  “Later, remember?” she said.

  The sound of bullets fired told her she’d been wrong about everyone being dead. A relief. A couple cannons went off. The ground shook as the remaining giants stomped around.

  All of it was silenced when blasting shrieks cut through the air, the terrible sound sending her into a panic.

  “No, please no,” she said, her heart at a gallop. She knew those shrieks. She’d heard them before.

  Demons.

  Judging by the way Joe’s eyes went impossibly wide, she knew he recognized that awful sound, too.

  “Okay, time to go,” Billie said.

  Sven kissed her hand, then without a word went to the Jetlier.

  “Meet at the plane,” she called after him.

  He raised his hand in a wave without turning around.

  Billie closed up the mech and used the exoskeleton’s huge arm to signal to the others to follow her. Gatlings raised again, she started firing when she saw shadows behind a veil of dust.

  * * * *

  32

  Retreat

  The DK-14 opened fire, sending round after round into the shadows in the dust. The bullets seemed to go right through them. Thinking she might have missed, Billie double checked the mech’s Gatling alignments and opened fire again. Proceeding forward and seeing the same result, her breath caught in her throat when she saw it wasn’t the undead coming toward her, but demons, already freed from their shells. That meant their metamorphosis was across the entire legion of the dead and the game had changed.

  The others wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Sven sped ahead of her on the Jetlier, heading straight for the demons.

  “No, don’t!” she screamed into the comm., forgetting his comm. was probably down and that was why he hadn’t responded to her the other times she tried to raise him.

  The demons jumped on the Jetlier—one on top, one on the side, and another underneath—and catapulted it into the air, sending it flying to the side where it smashed into the roof of an abandoned car, tumbled across a handful of others and landed somewhere on the other side.

  In a rage, Billie mashed down on the trigger and fired off a string of shots before changing course and taking the mech full throttle in the direction Sven had been thrown. The mech ran and leaped on top of the cars’ roofs, jumping from one to the other before landing on the other side. Sven’s Jetlier lay in a crumpled heap, its side and roofed smashed in.

  Panicking, she came over to it and used the mech’s powerful hands to grab hold of the bent door and pry it off. She threw it to the side and opened the cockpit. She jumped out and ran to Sven’s broken body.

  She fell to her knees at his side. “No, no, no. Not now. Not you.”

  Sven lay there, his legs twisted at the hips past their natural torque, one of his arms bent behind his back so far that the hand was visible beneath the opposite shoulder. His face was covered in blood from a severe bleeding nose and already the flesh around his eyes was swelling shut. “Fräulein . . .” The word was weak.

  “Hang on, okay?” she said. “I’m going to get you out of this.” She assessed the damage again and his body was so tangled up in the smashed Jetlier that she didn’t know where to start to even attempt to free him never mind gathering the courage to run the risk of accidentally moving something the wrong way and making it worse.

  “Danke,” he said.

  She sniffled back the tears. “For what?”

  “For letting me be friend to pretty girl like you.”

  She smiled and sniffled again. “Thank you for letting me care about a handsome man like you.”

  He smiled, too, his incredible green eyes looking into hers.

  A loud thump shook the Jetlier; Sven’s limp form rocked with the motion. Standing over him on the Jetlier’s frame was a demon, its wings spread, mouth open, hissing.

  Fear turning her limbs to jelly, Billie tried to back up, stumbled over her own feet and fell down. The demon eyed her. Billie looked at Sven.

  “Go, fräulein,” he said. “Ich liebe dich.”

  The demon pounced on Sven and got to work ripping him apart.

  Screaming and cursing at the demon to stop, Billie stumbled backward and scrambled toward the mech, the tears so thick in her eyes everything was a blur. Once back inside, she closed the hatch, and fired at the creature. The bullets passed through it. It didn’t even look over its bony shoulder.

  “Joe . . .” she said, and turned the DK-14 around.

  * * * *

  Joe fired round after round into the demon that had swooped low, grabbed Jessica, and taken her high into the air. His bullets didn’t stop it.

  Tracy and Dean were right behind him, tucked up against him so tight that if they pushed against him any harder they’d knock him forward.

  Foul shrieks and haunting hisses emanated from all around. Joe instructed the others to stay with him and keep heading toward the plane.

  Tracy and Dean fired their weapons behind him. Billie’s mech emerged not far ahead and was firing a barrage of bullets in what seemed like all directions. The loud thunderous crash of a giant smashing a building made the ground rumble. Joe was able to see the creature’s enormous form even from a few streets over as it drove its rotten fists into a building’s roof before raising its giant arms to the sky. Bright red light shone from the top of its head and then made a fiery red lightning bolt down its body. From the top of its head, huge scaly hands with long claws dug their way out and pushed down on its skull from either side, disrobing, revealing a massive demon with a wing span that covered three city blocks. The demon howled, and leaned back its dragon-like head, spewing forth flame, casting a fiery glow on everything.

  “Head for cover!” Joe shouted. The three of them ran to the nearest building and burst through the doors. He didn’t know where they were as the place was unrecognizable because of the damage. It did appear like a lounge of some kind, but most of the place was overturned, windows smashed, broken bottles and shattered picture
frames everywhere.

  A whirlwind kicked up outside as more howling shrieks filled the air, deafening booms and crashes making all three of them cover their ears in protest.

  All the surviving giants must have transformed, Joe thought. How were they going to counter this? They wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Tracy took his hand in hers. “They can’t find us. We need to hide.”

  “I know, but where? The only thing I think we can do is try to get to the plane and meet up with Billie. Maybe Dean here, being the airplane guy, maybe he can fly—”

  A loud, deep pop sent a jolt through Joe. He and Tracy turned around and Dean was face first on the floor, a portion of his head missing, part of his brain on the ground. Blood poured from the wound, pooling around his head and upper body.

  It took Joe a second to process what happened. He turned away. Tracy didn’t.

  “Couldn’t take it,” she said.

  “I guess,” he replied quietly. A well of anger bubbled within. He was mad at Dean for offing himself; was mad at the undead for not just today’s losses, but all of them; was pissed April had been transformed and he accidentally killed her; was furious August was gone; despite not always getting along with him, he was even mad Des had been changed after they returned through the Storm of Skulls and was now dead as well. He was downright furious that this battle might claim Tracy, too.

  Joe drew Tracy in and embraced her. “It’s just you, me and Billie. That’s it. We’re of no more use here. Whatever plans might have been meant for us—not anymore. We run like heck to the plane, pray Billie’s there, and hope for a miracle.”

  She nodded and grabbed his face between her hands and pressed her lips against his, one of fear, need and passion. When she released, she checked her firearm, loaded a new clip; Joe did the same regardless whether or not the bullets would be of any use anymore.

  At the entrance to the building, they counted it off and ran into the dust cloud.

  “I think it’s over there,” Joe shouted above the shrieks on the air. He hoped Tracy saw which way he pointed.

  They ran through the cloud, the shrieks of demons overhead. Joe paused for a second then kept going after he felt this strange electric tingle on the air. Not far over to the left, he saw the aircraft.

  “Billie!” he shouted, hoping to get her attention though he didn’t know how well she could hear through the mech’s cockpit shield.

  Metallic thuds came from off to the side and Billie’s mech came up beside them; all three headed in the same direction.

  Her voice came through the speaker: “Glad you guys are alive. I couldn’t find you. We need to get to the plane. Does that girl know how to fly?”

  She meant Tracy. “No, she doesn’t.” He double checked: “Right?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “Meet us at the plane, Billie.”

  “I’ll stay alongside.”

  They weaved in and around cars. A couple of the demons swooped low. They managed to evade them by ducking and suddenly stopping before adjusting their course.

  The plane was now in view, maybe fifty yards off.

  That same electric tingle returned, this time stronger, carrying with it the ability to send jolts of fear through whoever it contacted. Joe tried to ignore the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and the sickening trepidation about things getting worse.

  Wind blew through the dust, which caught him off guard as there hadn’t been wind in the city for a year unless it was artificially created. The wind grew steadily warmer with each passing second until the heat became unbearable and sweat broke out all over his skin.

  Tracy coughed.

  They made it to the plane and were on their way to the back hatch when all the demons shrieked as one, then silenced at the same time.

  “Joe . . .” Tracy said, her voice weak. He’d never heard an undertone of impotence in her voice before. She gestured to Billie’s mech. Standing before it was a man in a dark purple button-down, black dress pants and shoes, clean-shaven with neat blond hair. The man reeked of sulfur and Joe had to put his hand over his mouth and nose.

  As much as he willed his legs to move, fear kept them locked in place. The violent flapping of wings filled the air as hordes of demons came and occupied the area around them, and hovered above them.

  Billie . . . “Billie!” Joe said.

  The man turned to him. His eyes were black, cold. He held out one hand toward Joe, palm open, the other toward Billie, palm open as well. From the hand in front of Billie, red electric charges emanated from his fingertips, the red strings of energy dancing through the air until they connected with Billie’s mech. He snapped his hand into a fist and the front hatch of the mech tore straight off, hovered midair before the man, then was cast to the side with a wave of his hand.

  “Hello, Billie,” he said.

  She didn’t speak.

  Joe’s heart raced and Tracy looked like she was in a state of disbelief. The guy’s presence . . . there was something very wrong about it, something worse than the undead, small or large, even the demons. Then Joe understood.

  It was the devil.

  * * * *

  33

  Battle of the Angels

  Billie trembled before the incarnation of evil in front of her. His pitch black eyes were as smooth as marble and as deep as the farthest reaches of space. He was alluring, she hated to even notice never mind admit, and could only assume the dark one’s beauty was part of what made evil so attractive.

  “I suppose I have you to thank for all this,” he said.

  “It was a mistake,” she said, choking on the words.

  “But you won’t have the credit. I never share credit because this world has now become mine because of me and what I’ve done.”

  She didn’t want to hear it. She considered trying to run, but it would spell her doom if she did. All she could do was remain before him, helpless.

  “You have something I want, don’t you?” the devil said.

  “What do I have that you could possibly—” The crystals. If this guy wanted them, then they couldn’t be something she could let go of; she would protect them with her life, if she had to.

  He eyed her bracelet. “I see you wear the ornaments of another realm.” He snarled. “Give them to me, Billie.”

  Joe and Tracy stood there, mouths slightly open, still seemingly stunned.

  Billie’s heart picked up pace and began slamming so hard in her chest she felt it in her throat. There was only one answer she could give him: “No.”

  “I see. And there’s nothing I can do that would sway you?”

  She shook her head.

  The devil nodded as if he understood. “Very well.” The hand facing Joe and Tracy suddenly elongated, the fingers turning into long, stringy tubes of scaly leather, with claw-like tips. They snapped out in an instant then snapped back and reentered his hand, his palm and fingers returning to normal.

  Joe choked off to the side, his eyes wide, a hand to his throat. Blood bubbled out of his lips as he tried to speak, but all he could do was sway forward when Tracy caught him.

  Screaming, Billie jumped out of the mech and started to run toward him when the devil caught her.

  “The crystals, Billie,” he hissed. “I want them, and I want them now.”

  * * * *

  Tears leaking from her eyes, Tracy lowered Joe to the ground, almost falling with him as his body went limp. She kneeled beside him and stroked his cheeks, his forehead. She removed his hand from his throat to reveal two large puncture wounds: one straight through the esophagus and trachea, the other perfectly aimed through the center of his aorta. She quickly put his hand back and pressed hers against his, trying to stop the blood that was gushing out between their fingers.

  “Joe . . .” she said.

  His green eyes looked at her and he tried to reach up to touch her face, but his hand barely lifted. She took it and put it to her cheek.

  “Say something,” she said.


  His lips parted then closed slowly a couple of times, before he managed, “Tra—” His eyes went wide, as if looking at something majestic just past her. “Jesus forgive me . . .” The muscles in his face went slack and his head tilted to the side, his gaze vacant.

  Sharp stabs of pain and grief piercing through her, she started to shake and furiously stroked his face and cheeks as if her touches of affection would revive him.

  Her words barely dribbled between her tear-soaked lips. “No, not . . . Joe . . . don’t leave me . . . not like this . . . not you. Anyone but you . . .” A full-on cry threatened to burst forth. Tracy summoned her training and stilled herself, biting back the tears, the pain, the excruciatingly sharp heartache that threatened to kill her.

  She turned to the devil. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “With what, Tracy,” he said.

  She gently laid down Joe’s head and stood, gun drawn. “Don’t ever say my name.”

  Billie was clearly terrified, her eyes glazed over with tears, her gaze fixed on Joe’s body.

  Taking aim, Tracy was about to fire a shot when the whole area lit up in bright white light, the rays immediately causing her to squeeze her eyes shut.

  Demons shrieked above and the thwapping of furiously flapping wings drummed in her ears. She blinked her eyes open and a man stood behind the devil, who was now growling against the intrusion. He still had Billie in his arms until the man behind him grabbed him and in a flurry of gold and white, sent Billie stumbling forward, free, with the man now standing in between the devil and the two girls.

  The light faded, revealing the most beautiful sight Tracy had ever seen. He wore a golden robe, folded over and over as it draped on his muscular frame, with fiery hair, a silver shield on his back. Hanging off his golden belt was a scabbard with a large sword.

  “Nathaniel . . .” Billie said quietly behind her.

  The devil said, “Oh, it’s you. You are of no concern.”

  Sword drawn, Nathaniel raised it, pointing its sharp tip at the devil’s head. “Silence, snake. Your presence here is not welcome.”