The Balance Omnibus

by Alan Baxter

‘Not immediately. But back to the town you know, the world you understand.’

  The heat was making Isiah dizzy. Samuel staggered, trying to stand despite his battered and broken body. He certainly was tough. ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘You’ve already done it, Samuel,’ Isiah smiled. ‘You just needed to believe that I can help you.’

  Samuel rubbed gingerly at his cut, bleeding wrists. ‘You already have.’

  Isiah was just beginning to gather his will when he felt a presence behind him. He spun around, face to face with the demon that had recognised his disguised form. The other two stood behind it, their bulk looming large, menacing. ‘I knew something was wrong with you!’ bellowed the demon, lunging forward. ‘The fucking Interferer in disguise!’

  Isiah pushed Samuel back against the metal frame behind him, met the demon head on with a crashing impact. The demon’s taloned hands reached for his throat as its colleagues circled to either side to watch the fight. Isiah swung both his arms up, bent at the elbows, palms facing himself, to block the demons huge arms circling in. His whole body shuddered at the impact. He immediately turned his hands over, thrusting them forward, his outstretched fingers driving directly into the demon’s shiny, black eyes. There was a wet tearing sound as its eyeballs burst and split, Isiah’s iron-hard fingers penetrating deep into its head. The hideous creature staggered backwards, its howl of pain deafening, clapping its hands to its face.

  Shocked out of their reverie, the other two demons leapt forward, their faces twisted in rage at the disrespect done to their brother. Isiah shot his hands out to either side, palms out, one facing each demon. Each palm slammed into the chest of a demon with a devastating impact, Isiah’s arms straining to avoid collapse. As the demons swung blows towards Isiah’s head and arms, battering him, he pumped raw, burning energy into their chests, driving them back. As they staggered away he jumped sideways with one of them, his leg hammering out a powerful side kick, catching the abomination under the chin. There was a sickening crunch as its head snapped back, sending it sprawling onto the floor.

  The other one was already driving forward again, its fingers crackling with energy. Isiah was thrown backwards by the force of the psychic blow, slamming dazed onto the floor among the broken minions. The prone demon staggered back to its feet, its jaw hanging loosely, and the two of them leapt, bending over his prostrate form, their leering faces dripping sticky saliva onto him. He shook his head, trying to clear his blurred vision. He could hear and feel hundreds of demons, minions, unnameable creatures of all kinds, tearing through Hell towards the flaming lake.

  With a desperate effort he gathered his will, sending a fan of power upwards, tearing the air between himself and the demons. The demons rocked under the force of it, staggering backwards. Isiah jumped to his feet, forcing himself to stay conscious, following the hideous monsters back, raining devastating kicks and punches into them, driving them back towards the edge of the atoll. Fiery energy arced between the three of them, their bodies shuddering under the force of each other’s attacks. With a massive exertion, blackness threatening the edges of his vision, Isiah thrust forward with all his remaining strength, tipping the pair of them off the ragged cliff of the atoll. They fell, tumbling and screaming, toward the incandescent waves. Isiah stumbled back from the heat, collapsing onto his knees, gasping for breath.

  The demon with the ruined eyes raised its head and howled, its voice deafening, slowly forming into a sound. ‘LUCIFER!’

  Isiah could not afford an appearance by the Devil himself, he was already battered and spent. He stumbled to his feet, grabbed Samuel, shaking him. ‘Do you believe in me?’ he rasped, his face inches from Samuel’s nose. He could feel the air around him buzzing, shrieking. An intense sense of rushing presence, the Devil searing towards them through the planes of his Realm, already overtaking the other hordes in his haste, his roars of rage pummelling across the distance between them. Shadowy forms began appearing around the edges of the lake, some leaping, some flying, some skittering on spider-like legs or flapping tentacles towards them. Samuel’s head wobbled on his neck, his eyes wide with fear and amazement. Isiah shook him again. ‘Do you believe I can help you?’ he yelled.

  ‘Shit, yeah, man,’ Samuel said through swollen, bloody lips.

  Isiah gathered his will again, his arms wrapped tightly about Samuel’s broken form, and travelled. He felt searing pain down his back as their bodies lost cohesion, slipping from this plane of Hell. Lucifer’s screams of fury tore through them as space twisted, stretched. As their conscious selves travelled, their physical presence in that plane falling away, Isiah led them up through layers of Hell, passing rapidly through the various, horrible planes, back to the relative sanity of the mortal world. He was dizzy, trying to maintain consciousness against the pain of the Devil’s parting blow and the dozens of other injuries that covered his body.

  Isiah knew they would have to move quickly. Satan could not follow them immediately, they had escaped for the moment, but it would not take him long to find them. When they got back they would have to protect themselves from Satan’s wrathful searches. He would put all his resources into finding them, all his subjects would be scouring the world.

  As Isiah burst free from the Realm of Hell he cast Samuel’s soul ahead of him, then threw himself back into his own body. In the dim tomb, lit by the dancing orange glow, he snapped open his eyes, sitting bolt upright. His voice resounded around the walls in an agonised scream of pain, the agonies of his astral encounters transferring into his physical body. His entire being shuddering and trembling, his mind threatening to shut down. He could not pause for a second. Ignoring the burning pain he staggered to his feet, wobbling dizzily, and stumbled to the large stone coffin. There was a dull thudding coming from beneath the heavy lid.

  He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, his back a furnace of pain, hefted the lid off. The body of Andre Todd was thrashing around inside, arms and legs beating at the sides. As the lid came clear, the arms shot up, grasping for Isiah. He grabbed the wildly flailing arms at the wrists, leant his weight down over the body, suppressing its activity. ‘Look at me!’ he shouted at the ashen face, contorted into a visage of pain. The eyes, rolled up, showing only their whites, began twitching. The irises came into view as the man stared maniacally about. Isiah yelled again, his voice raw, strained. ‘Look at me, damn you!’

  The mad eyes settled on Isiah’s face briefly, focussing for just a second. They were unmistakably the terrified, haunted eyes of Samuel Harrigan, set in the face of the dead athlete. His mouth opened, the dry lips, split and rough, parting to reveal drawn gums, swollen tongue. A moan of sheer despair rose from the depth of his chest, bringing with it stale, foul breath.

  Isiah began vigorously rubbing the dark skinned arms and legs, massaging the muscles, trying to coax dead blood to flow through dry veins, while he used his mind to exercise the heart and lungs. The agonised groan rose again, vague words forming. ‘Pain...can’t b-b-breathe...p-pain!’

  ‘Stay calm, Samuel,’ Isiah commanded. ‘Don’t panic. I know it hurts, just try to breathe, take deep breaths.’

  Samuel began rasping in ragged, hitching breaths, his lungs wheezing. ‘It h-h-hurts!’ he cried, his voice slow and thick.

  Isiah began lifting Samuel’s seized legs, bending the knee and the ankle, the stiff joints cracking and popping. He did the same with the arms, constantly fighting the dizziness of his own pain and fatigue. Samuel’s new body suddenly began coughing, racking, phlegmy hacks. Isiah lifted the body from the coffin, put him on the floor. He rolled him over, helping him up onto his hands and knees, supporting him to stop him from collapsing onto his face. The coughs became gags, foul smelling bile splattering onto the stone floor.

  Isiah ignored the suffering, using the time to mentally explore the body’s functions, helping along the re-animation that the spark of Samuel’s soul had started. The body was slowly beginning to warm, the blood forcing its way through blocked v
eins and arteries. The heart was stuttering, straining under the workload. Isiah used his mind to pump it, sending electrical jolts into the muscles of the chest, forcing them to work, contract. The muscular body began to twitch and spasm like some grotesque puppet. Coughs were intermingled with groans of pain.

  Isiah managed to settle the body down, the coughs and spasms beginning to subside. Eventually he sat Samuel against the wall of the tomb, legs splayed out in front, and collapsed onto the floor himself. While Samuel gasped, trying to settle his breathing, hands pressed against his temples, Isiah turned his attentions to himself. He reknitted his torn flesh, injuries made manifest from his astral battles. After a few minutes the pain in his back and head began to ease. He was sitting cross-legged, head down, breathing deeply, when Samuel’s thick, slurred voice whispered to him.

  ‘What the f-fuck is h-happening?’ Isiah looked up. Samuel was looking down at his body, his upturned hands. He looked into Isiah’s eyes. ‘What the fuck is h-happening?’ he asked again, his voice breaking, sobs beginning to heave his chest.

  ‘Try to stay calm,’ Isiah instructed him. ‘I’ll try to explain. Do you remember where you were?’

  ‘Was I r-really in Hell?’

  Isiah nodded. ‘Yes. You crossed the Devil, he caught you, killed you, and was tormenting your soul in Hell.’

  ‘So where am I now?’ Samuel asked, looking around the gloomy crypt.

  Isiah was pleased to notice his stutter subsiding, his voice sounding less slurred. ‘Back in the real world, somewhere safe. I saved you from Hell.’

  ‘Why?’

  Good question. Isiah would have to be careful with how he answered. He still needed to convince Samuel to go through with his original plans. ‘You believe in Hell and the Devil, therefore you believe in Heaven and God, right?’

  ‘Sure. Be hard not to after recent events.’

  Isiah smiled with one side of his mouth. ‘Right. Then you must believe in guardian angels.’

  Samuel looked at him, eyes narrowed, suspicious. ‘Is that what you are?’

  ‘You can look at me that way.’ It was the safest option he could think of.

  Samuel spread his arms wide, his eyes round, verging on madness. ‘And why am I a fucking nigger all of a sudden?’

  ‘Your soul was in Hell, not your body. I had no idea where to find your body. Besides, I don’t imagine Satan killed you too cleanly.’

  Samuel winced, horrific memories flooding his mind. ‘Don’t. I don’t want to think about that.’

  ‘There you go then. This was the only body I could find. Does it work?’

  Samuel looked at him, incredulous expression. ‘You didn’t know if it even fucking worked? Some busted, nigger body!’

  Isiah shook his head. What an arsehole. ‘It was dead, you prick! It’s a good body, young and strong. If it works properly.’

  Samuel hung his head again. ‘It’s hard to tell. I hurt all over, like I’ve been kicked around like a football. And I can’t see properly.’

  ‘The pain will ease as you move around, loosen up. I’ll see if I can fix your eyes when I’ve had a rest.’

  Samuel just nodded. Eventually, ‘So that’s it? You saved me because that’s your job, even though I was already dead?’

  Isiah took a deep breath. ‘Not exactly. You still have work to do in this world.’

  ‘Before you send me back? Get fucked!’

  ‘No, Samuel. I can make you a deal. Do what you have to and you won’t have to go back. Ever.’

  ‘Oh? How?’

  ‘It’s really quite simple. You just have to finish what you started. You need to get that crystal skull. When you’re immortal, you’ll never have to go back. And I can help you get it.’ Would he fall for it? Again?

  Samuel was looking at Isiah, his mind calculating. Then he dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples. ‘Fuck, my head hurts. I can’t think straight.’

  Isiah stood shakily, reached out for Samuel’s hand. ‘Let’s get somewhere a little safer first. You can get a couple of hours sleep while your body settles, then you’ll be able to think more clearly.’

  Samuel staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on Isiah, grimacing at the pain in his stiff body. ‘Where?’

  ‘Not far.’ Isiah looked down at him. ‘Should have got you some clothes, huh? Didn’t think of that.’

  Samuel looked at him, expression of disgust. ‘So I’m a naked, dead nigger.’

  ‘You’re not dead any more. Get used to it. I’ll find you some clothes soon.’

  Isiah led him from the small tomb, across the shadowy cemetery. Samuel looked around, breathing deeply of the fresh air. They went around to the front of the tall, dark church, spires and crenellations casting inky shadows onto the flagstones. With a mental flick Isiah unlocked the big, wooden doors, pushed one side open. Inside it was calm and peaceful, quiet. Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls, the deep click of Isiah’s boots, the slap of Samuel’s bare feet.

  Isiah laid Samuel down in a dark corner behind the altar, using a pew cushion for his head. He took off his leather jacket, laid it over Samuel’s shivering body. The stress was beginning to tell. ‘Lay still and sleep,’ Isiah instructed him. ‘Sleep is the best thing for you now, let the body settle.’ He looked at his watch. ‘There’s still a few hours before dawn. Stay here while I get you some clothes. I won’t be long. You’ll be safe here for a while. When I get back we’ll move on, find somewhere else to hide.’

  Samuel grunted, his body overcome with fatigue. He slipped gently into a deep sleep as Isiah watched. Isiah exerted a little pressure on Samuel’s sleeping mind, ensuring that he wouldn’t wake up for some time. Satisfied that he was not going anywhere for a while, Isiah slipped quietly from the church in search of some clothes.

  When he returned to the church an hour or so later, Samuel was still lying on the floor, curled into a position of foetal security. His body twitched occasionally, like a dreaming dog. His limbs and face were a far healthier colour, the pallid greyness dissipating, his breathing more settled. Isiah stood over him, gently scanning with his mind, checking heart, lungs, other major organs. The bruising on the brain was almost gone, a good repair job on Isiah’s part.

  He sat cross legged on the floor beside Samuel’s unconscious, strained body. He had two carrier bags with him, which he emptied onto the ground. Jeans, t-shirt, thick jumper, underwear, walking boots and coat. He had a two litre plastic bottle of mineral water and burgers and fries from a fast food joint. He watched Samuel’s gently shivering form for a moment. They couldn’t stay here too long, he would have to wake him. Churches were their best hiding places, as safe as you could get from Satan and his hordes, but they would have to keep on the move. Nowhere was safe forever.

  He reached out, gently shook Samuel’s shoulder. Samuel woke with a start, sitting up. Immediately, he grabbed at his head, a loud groan. ‘Chill out, it’s only me.’ Isiah’s voice was quiet, tired. He pushed the clothes over. ‘Put these on, they should all fit.’ Samuel squinted down at the clothes, then at Isiah. Without a word, he began dragging on the underwear, jeans, t-shirt. Isiah was a pretty good judge of size, it seemed. Even the boots were a good fit. He pulled his own jacket back on, glad of its familiar comforts.

  Samuel sat on the floor, arms hugged around his knees, head hung. Isiah held out the bottle of water. ‘Drink some of this.’ Samuel looked up, his eyes flicking left and right slightly, blinking a lot. He reached for the bottle, missed, tried again.

  ‘Can’t see shit,’ he muttered, unscrewing the cap of the bottle. He tipped it, sipping gently. With a noise of surprise he began gulping.

  Isiah reached out, pulled the bottle away from him. ‘Easy, man. Little at a time, all right.’

  Samuel had angry eyes. ‘I’m so fucking thirsty, give it back!’

  ‘You’ll do yourself more harm than good. Are you hungry?’

  Samuel shook his head. ‘I feel sick. I couldn’t eat a thing.’

  ‘Y
ou’ll have to put something in your stomach. Try a few fries.’

  Samuel reluctantly took a handful, began slowly chewing. ‘Jesus, even my teeth hurt!’

  ‘Give it time.’

  They sat there, silently, for quite a while. Samuel ate some more fries, took a couple of bites from a cheeseburger. Isiah let him have some more water. While he ate, Isiah had a quiet look at Samuel’s eyes, trying to figure out why he couldn’t see too clearly. He mentally tweaked here and there, gently corrected what he could. Samuel suddenly raised his head, looked around himself. ‘My eyes just cleared.’

  ‘You can see properly now?’

  ‘I dunno. I think so.’

  Isiah just nodded, taking a burger himself. He was not really hungry, but he could use the energy it would give him. He hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. Sometimes he would forget to eat or drink for days on end, even weeks. He still needed sustenance from time to time, but he could get by without it for extended periods. Sleep he needed even less. He regretted that sometimes.

  Samuel took a deep breath, wincing slightly. ‘You want to tell me again what’s going on?’

  ‘I already told you the basics.’

  Samuel shook his head. ‘No, man, try again. What’s really happening?’

  Isiah thought for a second, Got to be careful here. ‘You made a deal with the Devil. Then you fucked up. He caught you, then I saved you. You’re clear on that part of it, right?’

  ‘Pretty much. I was really in Hell? I thought that fucking Voodoo-Man son of a bitch gave me some shit hot acid, or cactus juice or something.’

  ‘I take it that’s where you got caught.’ Isiah was interested to know how Lucifer had got him.

  ‘Yeah. I went over there, things to sort out, you know. The Voodoo-Man was stoned off his nut, gibbering on about some shit. He hands me a glass of beer, for no reason, says ‘Drink this, man.’ I tripped out big time. That’s all I remember before he came.’ Samuel shuddered again, remembering his last moments in the mortal world.

  Isiah nodded. He had an idea of what might have happened there now. ‘Okay. So whether you were tripping or not, it was all real. What else do you need explaining?’