Apocalypse Crucible

by Mel Odom

  Sunshine Hills Cemetery

  Outside Marbury, Alabama

  Local Time 2229 Hours

  The creature that stood a few feet away at the edge of Terrence Harte’s partially open grave looked like a man, but Delroy knew that image was a lie. He’d seen something of what the thing really looked like at the Pentagon. He tightened his grip on the shovel and held it before him.

  Lightning flashed and stripped away some of the human characteristics the foul thing chose to wear. The pale skin turned translucent and revealed the spiderwebbing of reptilian scales beneath. The corners of the eyes and the mouth drew back, elongating until they showed snakelike characteristics. The image blurred constantly, going from human to monster between heartbeats.

  For the first time, Delroy realized that he stood almost three feet deep in the hole. He was in a barely defensible position; the creature that faced him had the advantage of the high ground.

  “You’re going to believe in a rock that some lazy gravedigger could have thrown into that hole just because he dug it up and didn’t want to trouble himself to carry it away?” the thing demanded.

  Delroy couldn’t speak, but he felt the rock he’d uncovered sitting solid and heavy behind him. He thought he’d finished with the creature back in Washington. But you felt it coming after you, didn’t you, Delroy? You knew it had your scent. That’s why you’ve been looking over your shoulder for days.

  A grin spread across the creature’s face. A forked black tongue played over its thin lips. “Isn’t that idolatry, Chaplain Harte? Worshiping an image of anything that isn’t the God you profess to believe in?”

  “Get away from me,” Delroy ordered. Fear of the thing and what it might do filled him. The fear wasn’t for himself; it was for the final resting places of his loved ones and his family. There was no telling what the creature might choose to do to the graves. He stepped back farther in the hole, straddling the rock.

  The thing leaned forward and smiled again. Another flash of lightning turned the head more wedge-shaped, stripping away the false humanity and exposing long teeth. “I have to admit, you surprised me by coming here. Didn’t think you had something like this in you. Thought you’d head on back to that ship once you finished your business in D.C.”

  Delroy’s heart hammered frantically in his chest. When he’d last faced the thing in the Pentagon, the creature had tried to kill him. And it had been seen by a Joint Chief, the one man Delroy needed to convince of the Rapture.

  “Going back to the ship could have been interesting,” the thing said. “Personally, I was looking forward to it. Your ship buddies are having a lot of problems there. The war effort—” it shrugged—“other … things. I would have enjoyed adding to those problems.”

  “What do you want with me?” Delroy demanded. The creature’s words tore into him, making him feel even guiltier that he’d asked for and received permission from Captain Falkirk to check on his family before returning to Wasp. Under the circumstances, with all the disappearances around the globe and information slowly grinding through the communications channels about who remained, Falkirk had hesitated only a little before agreeing.

  The thing grinned. Blue eyes glinted in the reflected flashlight beam, then lightning flashed and turned the eyes into fiery amber slits that ran up alongside its head. “What do I want? I want you to suffer, Chaplain. Then I want you to die.”

  “Why?”

  Coiling with a grace that was more than human, the evil being squatted down at the edge of the grave, resting on the knuckles of its left hand. Or perhaps it rested on a paw.

  “Because that’s what I was sent to do,” the thing answered. “Because I exist to accomplish that.”

  “Who sent you?”

  The thing shook its head. “That would be telling.”

  “You’re insane.”

  The thin, brittle laughter that issued from the thing’s mouth ricocheted from the nearby trees. “Sanity and insanity and every degree between are human conditions, Chaplain. I’ve never been human. I’ve never been that vulnerable or weak. Only worn the flesh and got the T-shirt.” It paused to lick its lips with the forked black tongue. “I’m evil, and I glory in being that. I love wielding fear and violence, threat and half-truths. Those are the tools of my trade.” A mocking smile framed its lips. “Tactics not totally unlike those practiced by some of the leaders of your calling.” It took a deep breath through its slitted nostrils. “And I love the chance to walk the earth again. People here are … foolish … and frail. Easy to destroy or to kill.”

  Delroy noticed that the thing wore a black T-shirt and khakis. People passing this creature on the street wouldn’t give it a second look. Though it got rained on, the creature showed no signs of being wet. Water rolled off its skin and clothing without leaving anything behind, like water from a duck’s back.

  “Go ahead and open the grave,” the thing suggested with a coaxing, crooked little smile. It flicked a forefinger toward the hole Delroy stood in. “That’s what you came here for, right?”

  Delroy stood and held the shovel like a weapon. Back in the Pentagon, the creature had told him that all the people who had been left behind after the Rapture were only prey, meant to be hunted by it and others like it.

  “Open the grave, Chaplain,” the thing taunted. “See if that God of yours saw fit to pull your son’s remains from that box and take him to heaven.”

  Delroy waited. He knew he could not run. Even if the creature had been human, he could never elude it in the brush. It moved too quickly. He was too tired and there was no safe place to run.

  “Or maybe when you open that box, you’re going to find your boy still there.” The thing smiled. “Wouldn’t that be something if he didn’t make it to heaven either? if he was still stranded here? Like father like son, I guess.”

  “Terrence was a good man,” Delroy said, unable to restrain himself, even though he knew the creature only baited him. “He gave his life to save the lives of other members of his squad.”

  “Stupid bravery is going to buy his way into heaven?”

  Delroy started to speak but couldn’t.

  “Even I know that a hero’s death isn’t going to guarantee you a place in heaven, Preacher. I’m familiar with the childish ideology you follow. You believe you can get to heaven by simply believing Jesus died for your sins. I’m telling you now that He was nothing more than a scared man the day the Romans hung Him on that cross. You want to know who deified Him? Hawkers. Men who chopped up that cross and sold kindling as religious objects. Just men out to make a profit.”

  “You’re lying,” Delroy said. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”

  The thing raised an arched eyebrow. “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your son was a good man, and he was a good soldier.” The creature raised its hands. “See? Is that a lie?”

  Delroy forced himself to remain calm and watchful.

  “If your son was such a good man,” the thing challenged, “why are you here? Why did he have to die if he was being noble and protective of his friends? Why didn’t God simply spare him?”

  Delroy couldn’t answer. He didn’t know, and that truth was too hard to speak out loud.

  The thing lifted a handful of mud and let it splatter from its palm to the grave’s edge. “Dead is dead, Chaplain. Is it really better to have a dead hero for a son instead of just having a dead son? I mean, what’s the upgrade in that?”

  Delroy gripped the shovel more tightly and held his tongue. He moved carefully within the hole because the mud and the rain made his footing treacherous. He wondered whether he could trust the sides of the hole to hold his weight if he attempted to scramble out.

  “Go ahead,” the thing challenged with a mocking grin and a tone that invited mean-spirited playfulness. “Open the box and let’s see what’s inside. I’m interested. Really.”

  “No,” Delroy answered.

  The thing opened its hand and let
the remainder of the mud fall from its grip. Nothing remained behind to stain its flesh. “You’re pathetic.” It scowled. “You come here, desert your post in the greatest time of need the crew has ever seen, and you wimp out on testing your faith.”

  Delroy waited.

  Sighing, the creature said, “Maybe I should have waited. Maybe you would have convinced yourself to keep digging without any help from me.”

  “No. I was done with that.”

  The thing walked around the edges of the grave, its hands clasped together behind it like a schoolteacher on hall patrol. “You dug that hole in the ground and are standing in your son’s grave. When exactly did you start believing again?”

  “Now.”

  “Convenient, don’t you think? Seems like believing for you people always comes when it’s most convenient. Ever notice that?”

  The accusation stung, but Delroy’s fear and wariness were greater. Still, he stayed with the truth. “I realized how wrong I was.”

  “I don’t believe you. There you stand with that shovel in your hands.” It gestured to the hole. “Your son’s casket can’t be much farther down.”

  Delroy turned, taking small steps in the loose mud and pooling water so that he constantly faced the creature. “You came here to see me fail. That didn’t happen. That’s not going to happen.”

  The creature smirked. “You haven’t failed? C’mon, Delroy, you’re still here after all those people disappeared. You failed a long time before you got here.” It lifted its arms and gestured to take in the graveyard.

  Lightning split the sky for a second before a thunderous cannonade shook the earth. Electricity danced along Delroy’s skin while sparks spat from the thing’s hair and mouth.

  “A navy chaplain who can’t find a billet in heaven after decades of service?” It shook its head. “Now that’s truly a sad thing. You’d think God was more generous than that.”

  “My being here is my fault.” Delroy kept shifting. The loose mud beneath his feet became even more treacherous.

  “Your fault?” It lifted its shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. “You’re stupid to blame yourself. You can’t help it because you don’t believe. Look at everything you’ve been through. You’re lucky you’ve been able to hide your true feelings this long.”

  “I do believe.” Delroy’s protest sounded hollow in his ears.

  The creature covered its ears. “Lies. You and I both know you’re telling lies. If you believed, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be up in heaven right now. Reunited with—” the thing made a show of reading the gravestone at its feet—“Terrence. Terry. Your son.” The amber tinted eyes fixed on Delroy again. “Instead, you’re here. With me.” A malicious smile framed the creature’s face. “Or maybe you’d be up there and notice ol’ Terry was among the missing.”

  “No.”

  “You came out here tonight to see if his precious soul was saved.

  All you’ve got to show for your trouble is a big rock.” The creature kicked mud into the grave. As soon as the brackish earth touched the rock, though, rain washed the mud away. The creature cursed. “You don’t think he’s up there. You think he’s down here, locked in the earth.”

  “My boy is up there.” Delroy clung to that thought because it was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.

  “Really? And what do you think he’s doing right now?” The creature cocked its head to one side. “ ‘Hey, Gramps, good to meet you. Don’t know what’s keeping Dad. He should be here any minute.’ ” It paused. “Only you’re not coming, are you? Not now. Not ever.”

  Guilt flooded Delroy as heartache and uncertainty nearly crushed him. His faith was lost to him. He wasn’t sure he knew how to believe anymore. Even with all the proof around him—with the mass disappearances and even this malevolent creature stalking him, he still found it hard to believe that Jesus had died on the cross for him. God existed, but maybe He didn’t care as much as everyone wanted to believe.

  “Do you think maybe that’s what’s going on up there, Chaplain?” the creature continued in a belligerent tone. “Big family reunion? Only you weren’t invited?”

  Pain locked Delroy’s throat up tight.

  “Your father must be feeling pretty disappointed right now,” the creature said. “There he is, surrounded by all these people he’s saved for the Lord, and his own son didn’t catch the ship when it sailed.”

  Delroy firmed his trembling jaw. God, help me. This is so hard. I know my father loved me. I want to believe You love me, Lord, but it’s so hard. Help me to hang on to that. Let me start with that and continue to build till I’m strong again.

  “Nope.” The thing shook its head. “You’re right to blame God for all your troubles, Delroy. After all, He gave you those troubles, all that sorrow and grief. More than any one man should carry.”

  “No.” Delroy’s angry response was a choked whisper.

  The creature stood still and gazed down at Delroy. “Sure He did. God let that man murder your father all those years ago. God let those terrorists kill your son. And God left you behind three days ago when the least He could have done was take you up with all the others.” The forked black tongue slithered over its thin lips. “If you’re looking for someone to blame for your troubles, Chaplain, blame God. He’s supposed to be taking care of you. I submit to you that’s not what’s happened. How many people have you seen that God has saddled with that much bad luck?”

  Swayed by his anger, Delroy felt pulled toward the creature’s way of thinking. God was powerful. There was a lot He could have done. If He’d wanted to, if He’d cared enough about Delroy.

  “God has His plans for people,” the thing said. “That’s what I keep hearing all you people say. All you would-be believers. That’s just you trying to make something important out of the brief flicker of existence you’ve been given.” It scowled. “I’m telling you now that He doesn’t even care you exist. If He even knows.”

  It would be so easy to blame God, Delroy knew. He’d seen people do it all the time. Sailors he’d counseled had blamed God for losses and fears and changes in their lives when Delroy had talked with them. People who had attended his father’s church in Marbury had blamed God for the bad things that had happened in their lives, too. For a time, Delroy had blamed God for his father’s murder but had somehow found his way around that.

  Until tonight.

  Or maybe I never did, Delroy told himself. Maybe I was only fooling myself.

  Terrence’s death, so unexpected and so unfair, had caused those strong feelings to rear up again, and that unresolved anger had carried Delroy far from the Lord, although he still ministered in His ways. He’d been on autopilot, giving lip service to something he no longer truly believed in.

  A memory returned to Delroy as he shifted. Josiah’s own father, Jonah, had lived as a hard man. He’d drunk and gambled and lived a life of violence, raising his family amid poverty and abuse, neither of which he tried to alleviate. During that time, Jonah had barely acknowledged his son.

  When cancer had finally taken Jonah, Josiah had spent those last days with his father, caring for him and ministering to him in spite of the fact that his father had cursed him and God. At the end, though, Jonah had come to know Jesus and was saved through his son’s work. The old man had died peacefully in Josiah’s arms.

  Later, in the quiet of the funeral home after the families had all gone and Josiah had sat with Jonah composing the eulogy he would deliver, six-year-old Delroy had returned to find his father still there. Without a word, Delroy had tiptoed over to Josiah and stood beside him. Tenderly, Josiah had picked Delroy up from the floor and set him in his lap. He’d wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight. Delroy had felt warm and safe in his father’s embrace, and he knew even then that his father had taken comfort from his presence.

  “Are you okay, Daddy?” Delroy had asked. “You’ve been crying a lot.”

  “Not all of these tears are sad tears, Son. Some of ‘em, w
hy they’re tears of gladness because I know my daddy isn’t hurting anymore. It’s just hard to let him go.”

  “I didn’t want to let Grampa go either, Daddy.”

  “I know. But we had to.”

  “See? You’re crying again, Daddy. Me and Momma, we’re worried about you. She says she’s never seen you so brokenhearted.”

  “I’ll be okay, Son. God will heal my heart the same way He healed Grampa Jonah’s there at the end. The Lord will take away all the pain an’ fear an’ anger. I just gotta be a little bit patient till He gets around to it. I know Gram’pa Jonah’s in a better place, but it still hurts turnin’ loose.”

  “He was your daddy.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  Delroy had sat quietly with his arms around his father. Even now he could remember the smell of his father’s aftershave, the same brand of bay rum the barber used when they got store-bought haircuts on days that Etta was too sick or too busy to do the job herself.

  “Don’t you wish God had made Grampa Jonah love you sooner?”

  Delroy had asked. “Instead of waiting all this time? Wouldn’t that have been better?”

  Tears had glimmered in Josiah’s eyes, but he’d looked at his son and nodded. “Yes, I do, but I’m thankful for bein’ with Grampa Jonah as much as I could. I was there for him at the end, an’ that was important for both of us to end this thing right. Mighty important.”

  Delroy felt cheated. His father and his son had died away from him, both of them meeting violent ends with no family around to see them through their final moments. Neither event had been fair.

  “See?” the creature asked in a soft voice, tearing into Delroy’s memory. “You know God doesn’t care about you. You know what I’m saying is true. If He’s given you any notice at all, it’s only been for the sake of torturing you on a more personal level.”