A Deafening Silence In Heaven

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  “I’m sorry, Remy,” the archangel said. “If you survive this tribulation, then you will be that much closer to salvation and the new Heaven that is to follow.”

  Remy heard the sound of squealing gears, and the rusted gates in front of the cells slowly lifted.

  “Shit,” he heard Anthony hiss, and he couldn’t have agreed more.

  Six Hellions, the demon dogs that roamed the wastelands of Hell, emerged, sniffing at the air. They were mangy looking, their bodies covered with oozing sores, their eyes wild with madness brought on by suffering.

  Madness—it seemed to be a recurring theme in this world, Remy observed.

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Baarabus said, gnawing at the ropes that still bound his feet. Even though the large dog was at least part Hellion, Remy doubted it would be shown any mercy.

  “How are you doing with those ropes?” Remy asked the beast.

  “Going as fast as I can,” the dog grumbled.

  “Work faster,” Dante ordered. He’d backed over to a section of wall and was frantically rubbing the ropes binding his wrists against its broken and jagged surface.

  “This is going to be a slaughter even if we get our hands free,” Anthony stated, his eyes locked on the horrific vision of the Hellions as they stalked from their cages.

  “That’s what I’m going to miss the most about you, Anthony, after the hellhounds eat your ass,” Leila said. “Your overflowing optimism.”

  Remy noticed a jagged piece of bone sticking up from the dirt and dropped to his knees, angling down to the ground to recover it. All the while he kept his eyes on the beasts, who watched them hungrily.

  “Everyone is being so cautious,” Michael called down, his voice raised above the cheers of the Filthies. “The beasts must sense that their latest prey are of a special nature.” The archangel paused for the moment. “But it won’t matter once the first drop of blood is spilled.”

  Remy worked frantically with the edge of bone, trying to maneuver it in such a way as to cut through the bindings but not his flesh.

  “Almost got it,” Baarabus called out, pulling at the ropes around his front paws.

  “I’m free!” Dante announced, pulling his hands out from behind him. Blood oozed from where his wrists and arms had been torn upon the jagged tile wall—and it was like the ringing of a dinner bell.

  All six of the Hellions charged, each attempting to beat out the others. Three savagely attacked one another, but the other three made a beeline for the bleeding Dante.

  Remy, whose hands were still bound, leapt at one of the dogs as it passed, smashing into it side and knocking it off its feet. The Hellion struggled on the ground, and Remy moved, driving the heel of his boot down onto the dog’s neck once, and then again, feeling something collapse beneath it. The Hell dog thrashed upon the ground, coughing up wads of thick, clotted blood as Remy scurried away from its death throes.

  Baarabus freed himself with a piercing howl and leapt into the fray, plowing into the other two animals before they could reach Dante. One of the Hellions immediately attacked, powerful jaws snapping at Baarabus.

  The remaining Hellion would not be distracted, launching itself at Dante. The oldest son of Samson stood his ground, swinging his fist and punching the attacking Hell beast. The punch was good, sending bits of broken teeth arcing into the air, but it wasn’t enough to stop the demon dog’s momentum.

  The Hellion crashed into Dante like a runaway truck, slamming him backward into the wall of the pit.

  The Filthies cheered as the remaining children of Samson gasped.

  Enraged by pain, the Hellion did not hesitate, burrowing its snout into Dante’s belly, ripping away his shirt and the skin beneath, exposing his inner workings to the world.

  “No!” cried Remy in horror, his screams mingling with those of Dante’s brother and sister down in the pit.

  Anthony, still bound, charged at the ravening beast, kicking the Hellion as hard as he could. “C’mon, you son of a bitch. . . . Come on!”

  The blows were powerful, and the demon dog stopped its gorging to spin at its aggressor, snapping at him with broken teeth.

  Remy watched as Leila ran to her brother’s aid, just as the three Hellions that had been fighting amongst themselves charged over to join the fray.

  Baarabus roared, still in the midst of his own battle, blood spurting into the air as he and the Hellion rolled upon the ground, their jaws snapping like triggered bear traps.

  Remy realized that it was all up to him, but what could he do? Once again he struggled with his bonds, but they held fast, drawing tighter around his wrists as he bled. Remy was desperate as he sought some sort of answer; they would all be dead in a matter of minutes if he didn’t find a solution.

  The beast he had felled thrashed upon the ground as it died, and Remy saw a possible answer in its snapping maw.

  Remy dove toward the dying animal, spinning himself around and falling backward toward its vengeful mouth.

  He just needed a solution—anything at all would suffice. It didn’t really have to be all that good or smart.

  The Hellion bit at Remy’s hand furiously, a high-pitched, gurgling whine of anger escaping the dying beast as it attempted to do as much damage as it was possible of doing before it expired.

  Remy cried out as its jaws came down on his hands. He screamed in a mixture of rage and pain, jamming his hands and wrists farther into its maw, choking the Hell animal, as he attempted to rub his bindings against the creature’s teeth.

  It might have been stupid and cost him some pain and blood, but it worked.

  It worked.

  Remy pulled his lacerated and bleeding hands from the monster’s mouth, painfully flexing his fingers. Some of the bones were broken—for now—he knew that they would heal, given time.

  But now he had friends to help.

  Hands free, Remy charged across the dirt, screaming as loudly as he could at the four Hellions that were now circling Anthony and Leila. Remy knew that he didn’t have a moment to lose. His eyes scanned the ground for something, anything, that he might use to distract them.

  A severed head was the best he could do at the moment. He reached down at a run and scooped it up. He continued to scream as he ran at them, throwing the head with all his force, striking one of the Hellions in the side of its face.

  All the beasts reacted to the intrusion, fixing their eyes upon Remy, who did not slow as he came at them. The Hellions appeared thrown by his aggression, backing up as he continued at them unabated. One became braver than the others, charging to meet Remy’s advance. Remy stopped abruptly, reaching out to grab hold of the Hellion’s head in his hands and drive both thumbs into its eye sockets, rupturing the moist orbs within its skull with gratifying pops.

  The sightless Hellion lashed out, jaws snapping at the air as it ran off in the opposite direction, driven to the brink of madness by the intensity of its injuries. One of the remaining four temporarily out of the way, Remy stalked toward the others, which now crouched low to the ground, realizing that this adversary would not be as easy as past prey had been. He saw that Leila and Anthony had managed to get to the other side of the pit and continued to work on their bonds. They were safe for the moment.

  “Who’s next?” Remy growled, trying to keep their attention. “C’mon, you sons of bitches, I’m waiting.” Then he reacted purely on instinct, remembering himself as a soldier of Heaven, not the ragged being he had become, reaching down within himself, to where the divine fire resided—the Heavenly power of the Seraphim—and attempting to draw it to the surface.

  The pain was excruciating, unlike anything that he’d ever experienced before. The fire—the power of God that roiled at the core of his being—was no longer as he remembered.

  It was changed, different. There was a darkness to it now, an anger that threatened to destroy him as it surged up excitedly from the lower depths of his person.

  A madness.

  It was the power that
had defined him as Seraphim, and it had been driven insane by what had happened to this world. Remy fell to the ground; it was as if his legs had been cut out from beneath him.

  He heard his name called from somewhere seemingly miles away, but did not—could not—answer. The angry power was filling him up, threatening to drown him—consume him—for it wanted very much to be free.

  And wanted to be in control.

  Leila watched as Remy fell. One moment he was standing up to the Hellions, a badass beyond words, and the next he was taking a nap in the dirt.

  “Hurry up!” she screamed to her brother, who, having finally freed his own hands, was working on her ropes.

  “Remy!” she cried out as her hands were set free. “Get the fuck up!”

  But she could only watch in growing horror as the three Hellions circled his twitching form on the ground.

  Easy prey.

  • • •

  The blood of his Hellion adversary filled his mouth in gushing gouts that burned like fire. Baarabus allowed the blood to flow onto his face and down his throat as he chewed and swallowed the large bite of flesh that he had torn from his enemy’s throat.

  “How’s that feel?” Baarabous growled, spitting a bloody wad into the dying Hellion’s face. “Yeah, I thought so.”

  The Hellion’s legs gave way beneath the demonic animal, and it collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap, a deep pool of crimson spreading out from beneath its head.

  Baarabus looked up to see the three remaining Hellions move in for the kill on an apparently unconscious Remy, as Leila and Anthony looked on in horror. He leapt over the corpse of his foe, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt as he bounded toward the angel called Remy Chandler.

  My Remy, said a soft, loving voice from somewhere inside his mind.

  “Fuck you,” the demon dog grumbled, savoring the taste of his enemy’s blood, still inside his mouth. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.”

  • • •

  The Fossil watched from the edge of the pit, not quite sure what he was about to see. At first it looked to be a total slaughter, the Hellions taking down his comrades with little difficulty. But then things changed; his friends were not about to lie down and become food for the rabid Hell beasts.

  “Are you watching?” the archangel asked, a twisted smile on his ugly, scarred features. “This is God’s justice. . . . This is how His love shall be shown to those chosen for the new Heaven.”

  Not taking his eyes from the action below, the Fossil’s only response was a scowl. Everything was in movement, and his addled brain was struggling to process it.

  Remy had fallen. The Fossil had no idea why. It didn’t look good for the angel, even though the others had managed to free themselves, and Baarabus was hauling ass across the pit to save him.

  “Watch,” Michael commanded.

  The Filthies were silent in anticipation of what was to come. The Fossil, and others of his troop, watched as well, none certain what they would see.

  For one never could be in the strange world they now lived in.

  • • •

  “Remy, get the fuck up!”

  He heard Leila’s voice off in the distance and wanted to holler right back, Can’t you see I’m busy dying?

  The power awakened inside of him was overwhelming. It flowed through his body, wanting to take control. It was angry at him—angry for keeping it locked up, restrained, for so very long.

  It wanted to be master now, and he was dying for it.

  It was happy to be awake—happy to have finally been unleashed, even though it was killing its host.

  The power was wild, irrational, unhindered by thoughts of repercussions. Remy tried to calm it, to wrestle it back under his control, but it was far stronger than he was.

  It wanted to be free, to destroy the pain that had driven it insane.

  For the Creator was dead, and all the world would pay.

  Remy sensed an opportunity. What if I were to help you? he suggested to the sentient force. What if I were to deliver those who did this terrible thing to God?

  The corrupted power of Heaven made a noise that sounded like a chuckle, but it did not refuse him.

  Give yourself to me, and I—we—shall make all who were responsible for the death of the Almighty pay for their crimes.

  The divine force of the Seraphim was tempted by Remy’s offer and withdrew ever so slightly. And when will I have this . . . retribution? it impatiently asked.

  You shall have it in time, Remy promised. But first you must give yourself over to me. You must let me guide you.

  The power hesitated briefly but quickly relented.

  Take me, it said.

  Give me the deaths of the guilty, and I will be yours to wield.

  • • •

  He didn’t want it to end like this, winding up in the belly of some godforsaken piece of shit from the wastelands of Hell, so he did what he had to do.

  Remy accepted the offer from the power within.

  You will have your death, he told the rage of the Seraphim, and the power responded in kind. He felt a wave of strength wash over him, an adrenal surge the likes of which he’d never experienced before: one moment nearly comatose, the next fully awake and ready to deal.

  The bravest of the Hellions made its move, darting in for a quick and crippling bite.

  Remy saw it as it was happening, as if in slow motion. He moved just a fraction, and the demon dog’s jaws closed around empty air. The beast yelped as its teeth ground painfully together, but it immediately spun around for another try.

  Remy was going to move again, but this time something angry within told him to hold his ground. The Hellion was like a tidal wave of violence, its stink of fire and brimstone repulsive. It leapt into the air, its front legs spread, claws distended, ready to pull him into a killing embrace.

  There came a sudden icy chill in one of his hands, a chill that quickly turned to burning. As the Hellion’s body fell toward him, he stepped forward, driving his fist into the descending chest, punching through the flesh to where the beast’s foul heart beat wildly. Remy took hold of the throbbing muscle and tore it from the Hellion’s body, stepping quickly aside as the demon dog fell, dead before it struck the floor of the pit.

  Another of the Hellions lunged at Remy from behind. He could hear it, could smell its fetid excitement, and he spun on the beast, its sibling’s bleeding heart still clutched in one hand. Remy jammed the muscular organ into the Hellion’s mouth. It landed upon him, slashing with its claws. The angel managed to squirm from beneath the beast and leapt upon its back, throwing his arms around its neck and squeezing with all his might.

  It continued to fight, thrashing and bucking beneath him, but the power within Remy wouldn’t give up. There came a loud snap, and the demon animal’s legs splayed out beneath it. The Hellion writhed and twitched as Remy climbed from its back, and, feeling a twinge of mercy, he bent down and punched the paralyzed creature’s skull, sending splinters of bone into its brain and ending its life.

  Remy felt the power of the Seraphim roiling with pleasure but not yet sated, and he looked around for the next kill. He saw the last of the healthy beasts making a hasty retreat from him, bounding toward where Anthony and Leila now waited, ready to fight.

  The power of the Seraphim was on a roll, hungry for more foes to be vanquished. Remy dove after the running animal, grabbing hold of its short, nubby tail. At first he wasn’t exactly sure what he would do with the beast, now that he’d halted its progress, but as it turned toward him, jaws open wide to bite, Remy felt a surge of intense pain explode outward from the center of his body, flowing down the length of his arm. The hand still holding the Hellion’s tail ignited in flame, the divine fire quickly spreading from him to the tail of the Hellion.

  It was like watching a fuse ignite.

  The divine fire was hungry as it consumed the shrieking hellhound. The dog died in agony, spinning in circles and rolling upon the dusty ground of the pit
in an attempt to put out the fire.

  But it would not be extinguished until its hunger was sated.

  Leaving only a pile of blackened ash roughly in the shape of the consumed Hellion, the fire flowed back to Remy’s hand. Sensing that there was still one more enemy to deal with, Remy looked around the pit.

  The blinded Hellion cowered near its cell, nervously sniffing the air and picking up the scent of death from its murdered brethren. In its injured state, it did not seek out Remy, self-preservation making it stay cautiously away. Remy felt a smile that he could not control creep onto his face as he started to walk toward the injured animal.

  But Baarabus was suddenly there, leaping upon the blinded Hellion and tearing out its throat in an instant. “Can’t let you have all the fun,” he said, his large face stained crimson with blood.

  Remy was furious, for the living fire was cheated of its prey and demanded that it be satisfied.

  Demanded that a replacement be made.

  And before he could even question his action, Remy extended his hands, allowing the flames that now welled up from his core to explode from his body.

  The sigils tattooed upon Remy’s body throbbed painfully as if somehow attempting to halt the flow of divine energies that he now emitted, but they were overwhelmed by the ferocity.

  Remy cried out in pain as the force flowed from the tips of his fingers, gouts of divine fire igniting the corpse of the felled Hellion, while Baarabus leapt back from the hungry flames.

  The dog was shocked by Remy’s action and looked upon him with surprise.

  “What the fuck?” he asked.

  Remy’s hand raised again, the flow of corrupted energy about to come forth once more. He was caught up in the moment, no longer in control of his actions. It was the power that was in the driver’s seat now, and all he could do was sit back and let the inevitable happen.

  The power needed more death, and Baarabus would have to do.

  “Remy, what are you doing?” a familiar voice asked close by. A hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and spun him around.

  Remy snarled as he looked into Leila’s concerned face. He raised his hand, feeling the fire about to flow, not picky about whom it killed. It was the girl’s horrified expression that broke the power’s hold over him.