The God Machine

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  Then he saw them through the conflagration, faint shapes upon the ground. He called their names again, but they remained motionless, and he couldn't be sure if they were alive or dead.

  Over the hum of the machines and the roar of the fire, he heard what he thought to be his god's voice. "I'm so sorry," he cried, falling to his knees. But the god would have none of it, forcing him to his feet--compelling him onward through the smoke and flames.

  The structure of the barn was beginning to give way, the moans and shrieking creaks of the failing beams adding to the symphony of destruction around him. Through eyes filled with tears, Absolom saw an unearthly glow. At first he believed it to be more fire and tried to back away, but the hissing voice of his god ordered him forward.

  Absolom found himself standing in front of one of the most intricate of the god machines. It had been built to extract the spirit energies from the ether and store them in the cylindrical power cells. He ought to have fled, but the god compelled him.

  A section of roof came down nearby in shower of cinders and burning timber, and the god ordered him closer to the machine. Time was of the essence, the messiah hissed from somewhere inside his skull, but Absolom knew that his god was very far away from them now.

  He almost surrendered to despair and pain, then, almost gave in to his body's agony. Absolom pictured Mary Hudnell, her stomach swollen with a life that would have brought much needed change to the world, lying dead somewhere amid the rubble of the burning barn. It was almost more than he could stand, but his god would hear none of it, compelling him to take hold of the batteries--to remove them from inside the machine.

  His hands burned as he took hold of the heated canisters. The god told him that if any part of their great plan was to be salvaged, five of the batteries would be a necessity.

  Absolom had so many questions, wished for reassurance, but there wasn't any time. In a matter of seconds the barn would be totally consumed in fire. He put all his trust in Qemu'el, carrying the throbbing storage cells away from the machine and into the center of the barn.

  There was a shriek of splintering wood, and Absolom looked up to see a charred section of the ceiling plummeting toward him through the smoke. The wooden support struck his head and drove him to the ground, the batteries spilling from his arms and rolling across the floor.

  His body had gone completely numb; the only sensation he could feel was the tickle of blood as it ran down his face from his scalp. Absolom tried to stand but found that he was pinned beneath the piece of burning oak.

  "So...sorry," he wheezed, the air in the barn so hot that it caused his lungs to shrivel. Absolom Spearz could do nothing more, finally giving in to the pain, succumbing to the blistering heat, and as he lay there, pinned beneath the burning rubble, dying by inches, he could not help but be mesmerized by the sight of the containment cells. They continued to glow, brighter and brighter still, pulsing with an eerie thrum that seemed to match the beat of his dying heart.

  Then there was only the light; all the pain had left him, and he floated in a sea of nothingness.

  After a time, he asked the void, "Am I dead?"

  His god answered. "It is not yet your time to die."

  Absolom Spearz had faith.

  All he needed now was patience.

  Steve looked about the conference room in awe. If he hadn't already been dead, he would have dropped and gone to Heaven.

  I'm at a meeting of the BPRD, can ya stand it?

  Besides Hellboy and the hot tomato named Liz, there was a green-skinned fish man who went by the name of Abe and reminded Steve of the deep-sea creatures described in the books he'd read about Atlantis. Then there was his nephew, Tom, and Tom's assistant, Kate Corrigan, as well as some other, less colorful members of the field operations team. It was like a dream come true, and all he'd had to do was die to get here.

  Hellboy shifted, gesturing at the ghost. "Hey, Steve, you with us, pal?"

  "Sorry, drifted off for a minute, no pun intended." He tried to recall the question they'd just asked him. "I'm not really sure what the Band of Electricizers was up to in that barn. Remember, I was only five at the time, and when things got bad with the shooting and the fire, my mother got me the hell out of there. All I can say is, whatever they were up to, it freaked everybody out big-time."

  Hellboy leaned back in his chair, causing it to creak loudly in protest, and placed his hands behind his head. "But you remember seeing some kind of mechanical man on a table. Was it like the one you and Sally were trapped in?"

  Steve glanced toward the horribly burned woman. He'd grown quite fond of Sally Spearz since their imprisonment within the spirit battery. He reached out to her, mingling his noncorporeal hand with hers. She smiled, the charred edges of her mouth turning upward.

  "Sort of, but there were no corpses involved. It was bigger--fancier, like they took their time to make this one look really special."

  "And you think these Electricians..."

  "Electricizers," Steve corrected. "The Band of Electricizers."

  Hellboy shrugged. "Yeah. Got it. You think they're back, and responsible for the thefts of all these sacred doodads?"

  "And the robot zombies," Abe added. "Don't forget them."

  "Right, and the robot zombies," Hellboy echoed.

  "Yeah, I do think it's them, and so does Sally."

  Steve drifted up out of his seat, floating above the table. The ghost wanted to be sure they were paying attention. He didn't want them to think that his story was simply the ramblings of some crazy person. He'd had enough of that when he was still breathing.

  "Since that incident when I was five, I was fascinated with the freaky stuff, always the one flipping over the rocks to see what's under them. A lot of weird shit happens in the world every day, as I'm sure you guys know, and when I was alive, I wanted to know about every bit of it."

  "After I passed," he continued, "I didn't go on. There was still so much I hadn't seen--hadn't figured out yet. I found myself sort of hanging around, haunting my hometown, visiting friends from time to time, and particularly the farmhouse where the Electricizers bought it. There was just something about that place."

  Tommy crossed his legs at the head of the table, looking all official. Steve was so proud of his nephew, of what he had achieved. He remembered those summer vacations they'd spent together and liked to think he'd had a part in the kid's success.

  "Was that where you became trapped?" Tommy asked.

  "Not at first," Steve explained. "There was some activity going on around the farmhouse, a new family moving in and stuff. Personally I thought it would be good for the place, it could make a family a real nice home, but something had happened to them since the first time I'd seen them--something was off. Even the friggin' dog was off. Different."

  The ghost shuddered, remembering how the animal moved strangely about the house, as if unaccustomed to its body.

  "They spent a lot of time in the basement, building stuff. At first I really didn't give it much thought, but then the local funeral home started delivering corpses, and needless to say, my curiosity was piqued."

  "If the Electroluxes were all burned in the barn fire, then who are these freaks?" Hellboy asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

  "I think it is them," Steve replied. "I think somehow the Electricizers have come back. They've been reincarnated or possessed this family or something. If you want my two cents I think they're aiming to finish what they started ninety-four years ago--which isn't good, I guarantee you."

  The ghost shook his head. "That family, they never stopped. Twenty-four hours a day they were working. I haven't a clue what they were making, crazy-looking machines right out of Weird Tales. It's when I seen them putting up this funky map of the region that I got really concerned."

  They were all listening to him, even as the story got stranger they were listening. It was a little disconcerting. Most would have called the cops by now. Of course, he was a ghost, and they were all hanging o
ut just shooting the breeze with him. Didn't get much stranger than that. But these weren't your average Joes, this was the BPRD for Pete's sake. They ate weird for breakfast.

  "The father of the family, he looked to be the leader, started talking about acquiring items of...imbued power, I think it was."

  He guessed he said the magic words, because everyone around the table started looking at one another and writing stuff down.

  "And there were these marks on certain areas of the map. I wasn't sure what they were up to until I saw them robot things being sent out on missions and coming back with all kinds of bizarre stuff: big rocks, sections of wall, even a Styrofoam cup for Christ's sake. And as all of this crap was brought in, the marks on the map were removed."

  Hellboy nudged one of the three technicians who sat beside him. "Be a peach and go and get us a map."

  The tech nodded, getting up from his seat and leaving the room.

  "And that was when you decided that you'd better get in contact with me?" Tommy asked.

  "Yep, I knew they were up to no good. They just kept on building them freaky corpse things, using these batteries to make 'em go. I didn't realize what kind of power was being stored inside 'em until it was almost too late."

  "Spook power," Hellboy said, reaching for the pitcher in front of him and pouring himself a glass of water.

  "Right on the nose," the ghost responded. "Suddenly I was feeling this kind of tug from one of the freaky machines in the basement, and I realized that they were pulling me in with the other wandering spirits nearby. I knew I couldn't fight it for long, which is why I took you over, Tommy, and wrote the note. I had to make you aware of what was going on."

  Steve paused, remembering the horror of it.

  "It was like being ripped in half. I didn't think you could be hurt when you were a ghost. Hurt like hell though, but I managed to take a good look at their map to see where they were going to strike next and made you write it down; thought it might be useful."

  His nephew gestured to another one of the science technicians. And just like show-and-tell, the man pulled up the broken containment battery and placed it on the table.

  "And you became trapped within that until Hellboy freed you earlier this morning?" Tommy asked him.

  Steve nodded, floating backward away from the thermos-shaped object. The ghost didn't even want to be near it. "Yeah, the machine kinda vacuumed me up, stuck me inside the battery with some of the other spooks that were floatin' around."

  Steve looked around the table. "And now I'm here with you."

  Everyone remained silent, ruminating on the information he had given them.

  "Well, what do you think?" the ghost finally asked. "We got enough to be concerned or what?"

  His nephew was the first to speak. "Kate, what have you found out about this Band of Electricizers, anything on record we could use?"

  The woman tapped her pen against her temple. "Nope, nothing. I searched every database I have, and even a ton of hard copy, but I couldn't find even a mention of them. Whoever they were, they kept what they were up to pretty secret."

  Steve glanced at Sally, hoping to make eye contact with the other ghost, this woman who had become so special to him in such a short time.

  "So the million-dollar question is, what were they doin' then, and what are they up to now," Hellboy said, taking a sip of water. "We need some answers so we can figure out what we should be doing next."

  Sally turned her attention to Steve. As their gazes met, something passed between the ghosts, and he hoped that she wouldn't be too upset with him for what he was about to suggest.

  "I think Sally might be able to shed some light on that," he said, and they all looked at the spectral woman. She shook her head violently from side to side, her image beginning to soften like drifting smoke.

  Disappearing.

  "Sally, no," Steve called, drifting over to her. "Don't go, we need you. I know it's tough for you to remember, but I think you can help us out."

  She was nearly gone, her image barely an outline, when it began to return--to solidify.

  "That's a girl," he said, smiling. Steve reached out his ghostly hand to touch her charred cheek. "Anything you can share with us about your husband would be swell."

  "Husband?" Hellboy asked, surprise in his voice. "Who's that?"

  Everyone stared curiously at the specter of the burned woman--all except for Liz Sherman. She seemed to prefer to look anyplace other than at Sally.

  The ghost of the woman raised a charred hand slowly to her throat--her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  "It's too much for her to speak," Steve said, "but if one of you wouldn't mind giving up your body for a minute, she could use your voice to speak with us."

  There were no volunteers at first, but then the redhead--Liz--slowly raised her hand to volunteer, looking as though she'd just agreed to take a bullet.

  "I'll do it," Liz said, her voice low and raspy. She wasn't sure exactly why, just that it seemed to be the right thing to do.

  Maybe it had something to do with guilt over her reaction when she'd seen the ghost of the burned woman for the first time. Liz had been revolted, and she'd seen the look of hurt in the poor woman's dark, soulful eyes.

  "You sure about this, kid?" Hellboy asked, shifting in his seat. He seemed almost as uncomfortable with the situation as she was.

  Almost.

  "I'm sure," she said, her gaze fully connecting with Sally's ghost for the first time. "What do I have to do?"

  "Nothing," the ghost of Manning's uncle said, escorting Sally through the air above the table, toward her. "Just relax and let Sally do the drivin'."

  This was it; there was no turning back now. Liz closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tilted her head back slightly in preparation.

  "Go ahead, honey," she heard Steve urge his friend. "Tell us what you know."

  Liz opened her eyes in time to see the ghost of the burned woman flow toward her, her horribly burned visage moving closer. She fought the urge to move away, the hammering of her heart urging her to escape.

  She had no idea what to expect, feeling the air around her becoming ridiculously cold as the ghost flowed around her, attempting to merge with her body. It's like being immersed in a cloud of freezing vapor, she thought. Liz gasped, feeling her body grow suddenly rigid, as she slowly accepted the ghost into her.

  "Is she all right?" Hellboy asked, but he sounded so very far away.

  "No problem," Steve explained, also from a great distance. "That's just Sally getting used to the driver's seat."

  Where there had first been intense cold, Liz now felt only warmth. It was strangely comforting, as if the spirit of the woman who was taking control of her body was somehow attempting to reassure her that everything was going to be just fine.

  And Liz Sherman believed her, stepping aside so that Sally could have her voice.

  Liz wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed, but suddenly she found herself back in control of her body, not feeling much different than she had on the numerous times she'd dozed off during a debriefing or staff meeting. She felt kind of groggy and could have used a strong cup of coffee and a cigarette.

  Sally's ghost had returned to float beside Manning's uncle across the table.

  "Is that it?" Liz asked aloud, rubbing her hands across her face. Her cheeks felt numb.

  "Yes, Liz, that's fine," Tom Manning said. "Thank you."

  Everyone sitting around the table looked strangely apprehensive, and she was about to ask what had been said, when she realized it wouldn't be necessary.

  She already knew.

  Her head was filled with recollections not her own, but detailed nonetheless. Liz steadied herself in her chair as the rush of images cascaded through her mind.

  She saw--experienced--it all, feeling the poor woman's emotions as she was sacrificed to an otherworldly power. Liz gasped aloud as she felt what it was like to burn from within. To be on fire. Despite her power, the fire wi
thin her, she had never burned like this.

  "Oh my God," she cried, her body starting to tremble.

  Hellboy was suddenly at her side, a comforting arm around her shoulder as he handed her a cup of water.

  "Here, drink this."

  Liz took the plastic cup from him, the images continuing to bombard her.

  "The bastard," she said, before taking a sip from the cup. "He allowed her to die...to burn up." Liz drank in gulps, realizing how thirsty she was from her ordeal.

  Everyone at the table was watching her, already aware of Sally's ordeal.

  "Take it easy, kid," Hellboy said, his arm still tightly around her.

  She remembered the darkness that followed Sally's death, recalling its every detail as if it were her own memory. In the darkness, something was waiting, and it all became horribly clear.

  Sally had been the sacrifice, taken as payment so that her husband and his twisted friends could communicate with whatever it was that was supposed to be sleeping in the void.

  Then she saw them, in the shadows of death, three shapes--three sleeping giants--but one was awake, and it was horrible. She felt its thoughts, its hunger to be free.

  Its designs upon the world.

  "I think we might be in trouble," Liz said, the realization of what they were dealing with finally hitting home.

  Her words were met with an uneasy silence in the room.

  Inside the farmhouse, in a room that he had claimed as his personal space over ninety years ago, Absolom Spearz, in Stan Thomas's body, sat before the computer monitor, his fingers flying over the surface of the keyboard.

  What technological marvels this era has achieved, he thought, dazzled by what could be accomplished with this wondrous device.

  He had imagined a device similar to the computer before his untimely demise, although his design had required a human brain suspended in embryonic fluid. He'd never had the opportunity to make his plan a reality, and he wasn't quite sure which of the devices would have been more effective. But at the moment, Absolom was more than satisfied with what he had to work with.