When the answer hit me, I knew what to say to E.P.
"And how do you know it won't turn the world into Heaven instead of Hell?" I told him, and everyone else. "If there's a chance it will work, don't you think it's worth giving it a shot?" I looked around at all of them, the hundreds of baldies and rebels gaping up at me. "Don't you think it's worth trying to make something good out of this whole lousy fake Heaven experience?" Were they buying it? I couldn't tell. "Don't you want to make this count for something? I know I do."
The crowd was silent for a long moment. Other than the shuffling of feet, the rustling of clothes, and a few booms in the distance, the garden was quiet.
Then E.P. spoke. "You really think we can just join forces after all this? You think there's the slightest chance we can all work together?"
"Not unless you work for me!" Just then, a new voice broke in, roaring over the crowd with some form of amplification...a voice that was all too familiar. "Otherwise, you're dead meat."
Byzantine.
Looking toward his voice, I saw him gliding over the crowd on one of the gold-plated flying film reels he'd ridden during the Stag Lincoln Day parade. He didn't look at all like he'd been in the middle of a battle; his blond hair was unruffled, his white tunic and chinos didn't have a mark on them. He wasn't carrying a weapon, either. Whatever was amplifying his voice, I couldn't see it.
But I couldn't miss hearing it. "In fact, anyone who sides with this piece of garbage is dead meat." He whipped up in front of me, pointing a finger at my giant face. "This sorry sack of shit is public enemy number one in Heaven."
I wanted to swat him away but didn't. "He's the public enemy," I said, bobbing my chin in his direction. "He's the one who brought us here."
Byzantine grinned down at the crowd. "To give you paradise. And now he wants to take it away."
Quickly scanning the audience, I noticed baldies and rebels alike stiffening and tightening their grips on their weapons. It wouldn't take much to tip the situation over into chaos again.
"You need to do something," said the male in my mind.
Ya' think so? I replied.
"But beware," said the female. "He is supported by great power which is similar to our own."
You're just telling me this now?
"He wants to destroy everything we've built here." Byzantine flew in a circle out over the crowd, always keeping his finger pointed accusingly at me. "He shows up, and war breaks out. Haven't you wondered why that is?"
E.P. interrupted. "Because you're a bloodthirsty tyrant!" he said, and all the rebels cheered in agreement.
Byzantine's amplified voice overpowered them. "Or maybe, just maybe, Stag Lincoln isn't what he seems." Sneering, he rolled toward me on his golden film reel, stopping a short distance from my face. "Maybe he's an enemy of Heaven. Maybe he's the Prince of Lies himself--Satan, sent here to tear down God's heavenly kingdom!"
At that, the baldies rumbled and jeered and shook their weapons in the air.
"Satan Lincoln must be destroyed!" said Byzantine. "And I am just the man to cut him down to size!" He spun and pumped his fists in the air for his cheering followers. "I will prove to you that my divine light will ever overcome the agents of darkness!"
"Mr. Lincoln, watch--," said the female, but she was too late.
Byzantine whirled and unleashed a blast of force from his fingertips. It slammed into my face like a fist, hitting me on the bridge of the nose.
Stunned, I stumbled a step backward. The silver spire rocked wildly on my palm, and I grabbed it with my other hand and held it tight.
Byzantine laughed and pressed forward, firing another blast. "Do you see what happens when true goodness rises up against the devil incarnate?"
This time, the force of the blow struck me in the throat. I staggered back three steps, choking, clutching my windpipe with my free hand.
"Drop the spire," said the male.
But what if it...
"Just do it." The male's voice was stern, commanding. "It will not be harmed."
"We need to present a smaller profile," said the female. "A smaller target."
They didn't have to tell me twice. I looked down, making sure there was no one directly below, and let go of the spire. It fell straight down, base first, and landed heavily in the charred grass, right side up.
Then, without warning, I suddenly shrank back to normal human size. I stayed floating in midair at eye level for my giant-sized self, but I was closer to six feet tall than sixty again.
"Ha!" Byzantine was hovering thirty feet away on his film reel, shaking both index fingers at me. "I told you I'd cut him down to size."
"You need to fight him," said the female entity.
"You need to stop him," said the male.
With what? I said. What other powers did you give me?
"No time to tell you," said the female. "We will have to guide you on the fly."
"Now go!" said the male.
Just as I was deciding what exactly to do next, Byzantine charged. His eyes lit up orange as he barreled toward me, and a faint golden aura shimmered around his whole body.
Scowling with intensity, he threaded his fingers into one big fist aimed ahead of him. He was leaning so far forward, nearly parallel with the ground, that I wondered how his feet were staying stuck to the flying reel.
Come and get it, asshole.
At the last possible instant, I leaped up out of Byzantine's path. He streaked under me, then quickly swung around.
When he flashed toward me, I sidestepped, leaving him to swoop past again. This time, he stopped twenty yards away and glared at me. "Coward!" He flipped me the bird with both hands. "Of course, the Devil never fights his battles head-on, does he?"
"Fight him, Mr. Lincoln," said the female. "Meet his challenge."
But you said he's supported by great power.
"So are you," she told me.
There was an explosion in the distance, and Byzantine took it as his cue to make another run at me. I, in turn, took a deep breath.
And then I headed straight for him.
We hurtled toward each other like runaway jets. At the last second, I sheared away--but caught hold of his ankle on the way past. I knew he had a force field, I'd seen it in action when he'd fought M.J. and Thundercloud back at the Bestiary...but he must have dropped it on approach so his own blows could make contact with his target.
Flying in a tight circle, I dragged him with me by the ankle. When I'd zoomed around three fast loops, I let go, and he went whirling off through the dome like a boomerang.
What next? I knew he'd come whipping back in nothing flat. Tell me how to beat him.
But this time, the voices in my head were silent.
I said, what should I do next? How can I beat Byzantine?
Still, there was no response from the male or female entities who'd taken up residence in my head.
Wonderful.
Just as I'd expected, Byzantine raced back fast, ready for the next round. His eyes and aura glowed brighter than ever, and he clenched his teeth and scowled with pure rage. Even from a distance, he looked mad enough to kill.
Some kind of surprise power boost from the ghost fish would have been nice just then...but they offered only silence. Apparently, I was on my own.
Whatever. Once I got it through my head, I was fine with it. Why depend on a couple of fickle fish when we've got a real live action star in the house?
I pulled myself together just in time. Byzantine closed the gap in a flash and was just about to plow into me when I focused my mind and chose a move. Spinning, I lashed out with a Muay Thai kick to his head, using his own momentum to intensify the impact.
He rolled hard to one side, weaving and wobbling from the hit. As he tried to shake it off, I followed up by zipping after him and hacking both kidneys with quick, surgical chops.
Just as I was feeling confident, Byzantine flipped around and caught me with a wild punch to the jaw. He followed with an uppercut
to the gut that left me breathless.
I fell away from him but quickly caught myself and doubled back. I had a combo of Krav Maga and Wing Chun moves in mind, a double-threat I thought would lay him out with the greatest of ease.
But this time, when I got close, I ran into an invisible barrier and bounced off. A bubble of force had gone up around him, just like the one that had repelled Thundercloud at the Bestiary. Nothing could get within four feet of him.
Laughing, he glided toward me, bringing the bubble with him. "Satan cannot hope to penetrate the shield of the truly righteous!"
I backed away, staying just beyond the radius of the bubble--until he lunged forward and smacked me with it. I lurched back from the contact, and then he thumped me again, much harder. The blow bowled me over and left me reeling, spinning down toward the ground.
It also left me with one big question on my mind: how the hell could I fight a guy in a bubble like that?
I landed hard, facing upward, and he came down on top of me with his shield engaged. The invisible bubble crashed onto me like a plunging anvil, knocking the breath right out of my lungs.
Pinned in the shallow crater left by my fall, I struggled to free myself, but the force field wouldn't give. It pressed against me, crushing me under the full weight of its occupant.
Byzantine just lay suspended in the middle of the bubble and laughed down at me. "Dude, you are so screwed." His bright eyes twinkled with delight. "You should've stuck with me, man. I really thought we could be best buds, y'know?"
I couldn't have answered even if I'd wanted to, thanks to my impending asphyxiation. My head was pinned to one side, and air was flowing around the curve of the bubble--but the weight on top of me wouldn't allow my lungs to inflate. I couldn't breathe.
I'm dying. As panic set in, I reached deep, trying to will some kind of power to activate. Super-growth would save the day, so I tried to trigger that one--but nothing happened. I tried to push myself off the ground and fly, but that wouldn't work, either. Then I floundered around, grasping for something, anything, to get me out of this.
Still nothing.
Help! Getting desperate, I called out to the ghost fish in my mind. Help me! You said I'd have the power I needed to overcome obstacles!
No one answered.
"Sorry it had to be like this, bro." Byzantine lay flat, chin resting on his folded hands, legs bent up at the knees and crossed. "You really were one of my favorite actors. But don't worry, I've got cameras filming all this. I guarantee you'll win a Byzantine Award for this awesome friggin' performance."
My vision danced with stars as I ran out of oxygen. I screamed in my mind for the entities, but no help came.
"Why drag this out?" With a chuckle, Byzantine got to his feet. He stood on my chest, and the bubble shifted with him, drawing away from my head and lower body. "Let's get it over with." Then, he started jumping up and down.
I felt ribs crack and tried to scream, but no sound came out. Squirming, I managed to free one arm and clawed at the dirt, mindlessly scrabbling for anything to help me.
And I found something. My fingers closed around the tubular frame of a hoop--the halo. It must have come off in the crash.
It was cool to the touch at first but warmed up instantly and vibrated in my grip. Instantly, I felt a wave of hope ripple through me.
Just as quickly, it faded. I had the halo, but what could I do with it?
My mind raced. More stars flashed and flickered before my eyes, only now they were interlaced with blotches of darkness. Time was running out.
Only one idea burned in my brain...maybe because it was the one thing the ghost fish had told me not to do. It was my only option, the only thing I could think of within those precious few moments I had left.
So I did it. I lifted my arm, drew my hand back, and flicked my wrist as hard as I could, throwing the halo at Byzantine.
He was in mid-jump when it hit the bubble. It stopped there, and I thought it would fall away...but it didn't. Instead, it flared with bright light and spun like the blade of a buzz saw, cutting right through the invisible field.
Byzantine landed on my chest but didn't make another jump. Eyes wide, he gaped at the halo as it sliced through his shield.
He stumbled back a step, taking the bubble with him--and the halo, too. It cut halfway through, then three-quarters of the way, then further.
"Staggerino?" Unflappable Byzantine actually sounded worried. "Bro, what're you--"
Before he could finish his sentence, the halo cut the rest of the way through and shot into his throat. It sliced through flesh and bone in a fraction of a second and kept going from there, attacking the back of the force bubble.
Not that it had long to work on it. As Byzantine's head toppled from his shoulders, the bubble went away, leaving the halo a clear path to shoot off into the night.
Byzantine's body collapsed in its wake, crumpling headless to the ground.
Meanwhile, I lay in my crater, gasping for air. Each lungful was agony as my broken ribs flexed out and in--but I couldn't complain. It beat being dead.
I heard people shouting and running toward me from across the gardens. Wincing and grunting, I forced myself to sit up.
It was then, when I looked at Byzantine's body, that I saw them. As I watched, twin tongues of flame emerged from his mouth, long and slender as the tendrils of mist had been. Each tendril had a pair of dark, oblong eyes like sunspots, much the same as the eyes of the ghost fish.
And they were staring at me.
Still heaving for breath, I watched the tongues of flame slither upward, twining around each other. I remembered what the female ghost fish had told me about Byzantine: He is supported by great power which is similar to our own.
Was this the power she'd referred to? Some kind of fiery counterpart to the misty ghost fish? If so, what did it want? What was it going to do now that its host was dead?
"Stag!" Lillian ran up and crouched beside me. "Are you all right?"
I nodded, never taking my eyes off the fire fish for an instant. "Look over there a second. Tell me what you see."
She looked and frowned. "Just Byzantine's head and body."
"Nothing else that strikes you as unusual?"
Lillian shook her head. "Why? What should I see?"
Just as she said it, the tongues of flame lashed toward her. Before I could warn her or push her away, they'd plunged into her--one entering her head, the other her chest.
She didn't seem to notice. "Stag? You didn't answer my question."
"Forget it." I sat up straighter. "It doesn't matter now."
She leaned closer, touching my cheek. I stared at her, looking for some trace of what the tongues of flame might have done to her. From what I could see, nothing was different.
Almost nothing. "I'm glad you're all right." When she said it, the look in her eyes was softer. Her gaze locked with mine and wouldn't let go. "I'm glad we made it through together."
"Me, too." Smiling, I took hold of her wrist and kissed her fingertips. I was all too aware of the crowd of rebels and baldies that had rushed up to surround us. "Now all we need to do is get through the rest of it."
*****
Weeks later, Lillian and I sat by a campfire on the beach with some of our friends, watching as glittering cinders swirled up into the night sky.
E.P. sat across from us, leaning against Thundercloud as he roasted a marshmallow on a stick. "I'm no scientist, man, but I think it's lookin' good." He rotated the stick, turning the charred side of the marshmallow away from the flames. "I think we're gonna make this happen."
"It's just a matter of time." M.J., who was leaning against Thundercloud to the right of E.P., was roasting three marshmallows at once, lined up on a single stick. "Now that everyone's joined forces, we really have a chance at this."
"I think you're right." I nodded and flashed my million dollar grin. Ever since Byzantine's death, the factions of counterfeit Heaven had been working together to under
stand and activate the Empyrean Engine. Even on days of little or no progress, a feeling of hope pervaded the place.
We'd done it. We were making it happen.
"I agree," said Lillian, snuggling up closer beside me. Her head was on my shoulder, and she cradled my arm like a trophy. "I think the day is coming."
"Won't that be something to see? Paradise right here on Earth?" J.L., to the left of E.P., smiled, his eyes hidden behind psychedelic granny glasses. "Just imagine."
"It'll throw a lot of folks for a loop, though, won't it?" E.P. chuckled. "They won't know what hit 'em."
"Ain't that the truth?" I said. The civil war had severed all lines of communication back home. There was no way to call anyone, no way to warn them what was coming when it finally came. We didn't even know how to get home anymore; the few boats or planes hidden away had likewise been destroyed in the fighting. We had no other way of escaping what had turned out to be a remote island instead of a heavenly kingdom.
But that was perfectly all right with me. I didn't miss the world back home. My focus was on other things these days.
"Want to go for a walk?" I asked Lillian.
She smiled warmly and nodded, and we both got up.
"Catch you guys later," I said to the three superstars around the fire. "We're going for a walk on the beach."
"Just the two of you?" said M.J. "How long should we wait till we send out a search party?"
I shrugged. "As long as it takes. We'll be fine."
E.P. drew his fully charred marshmallow out of the fire and pulled it off the stick. "Don't make us worry. You don't want me sendin' Thundercloud out after ya', do you?"
At the mention of her name, the giant, winged platypus roared.
"G'night," I said, and then Lillian and I wandered off along the moonlit strip of sand.
The foamy surf washed over our bare feet as we strolled arm in arm, leaving the laughter and the light of the campfire further and further behind us.
Heaven Bent Page 17
