Jack's Back ((Ascension: Book 2))

by Adam Moon

  Everything froze except Jessie.

  Melanie could swivel her eyes and she was still breathing but she could do nothing more than that. Even the dragon was helpless against its invisible restraints.

  Then Jessie erupted in a magnificent blast of white light. But the light did not dim this time like it did with the departed hell spawned creatures. It remained, stinging their eyes, forcing them to look away. As it died back down, it became the rough shape of an adult human, but otherwise it was unidentifiable as anything remotely terrestrial.

  A calm, but older, steady voice came from the blinding light.

  It addressed Jack. "I have put you through enough already. Fight me when you're better prepared."

  Jack grunted but otherwise he was speechless.

  Melanie tried to look at the light, to see if the small child was enveloped by it, but she knew he was not. Jessie was gone, and only God remained.

  The light continued, "None of this has worked out the way I imagined it would. You were not supposed to take the throne Jack. I'm still puzzled as to how you did it. Lucifer was supposed to take it.

  "I knew all along what his plans were. He was going to force my hand and make me enact the Rapture. Then he'd breed what was left of humanity to create an army large enough to overthrow me right before taking the throne for himself. It was a good plan and I was willing to play along to help mold him into the adversary I deserve. That's why I created a new messiah, to guide those poor lost souls to me instead. The unborn child would be the most influential living being the world has ever known.

  "But all of that is redundant now. You're destiny was clear-cut: You were supposed to be the patsy in the grand scheme of things. But against all odds, you've changed the outcome."

  Jack grunted and Melanie saw his arm move very slightly.

  The light said, "I can see already that your powers are close to my own. That is unexpected but it's good. We shall make a game of this when you are strong enough."

  Jack growled and his jaw opened. He snarled, "You've caused all of this misery. I did not wish to become the Devil or to be apart from Melanie. Lucifer did not need to go through what you put him through. You are God. You could have created a counterpart instead of molding one."

  "Where's the fun in that? Plus, I can't create the kind of hatred you possess. I only did this because I am beginning to wonder if my way is the only way to govern."

  "You don't govern, you ignore."

  "Well, I've been occupied in the vessel of the child for over a decade and things seem to be running just fine without me."

  "Then why don't you kill yourself?"

  "By allowing you to live, that could be exactly what I'm doing."

  "You'd better believe it kiddo."

  "I was never truly your son Jack. I'm sorry for the manipulation but I wanted a front row seat to this. I thought I was going to witness Lucifer claim his birthright, but the poor dear is just too cowardly. His schemes were nothing but ill-advised delay tactics.

  "And your involvement was supposed to be of insignificant consequence. You were only meant to test Lucifer, not make him run away like a scared puppy. Lucifer proved to be unequipped for the challenge, but you, on the other hand, could be quite the formidable opponent."

  Jack broke free of his invisible bonds and walked right up to the light. He jabbed a forefinger into it and said, "Now that I remember what I am, you have no chance against me. I am not what you had in mind for as an adversary. I will recreate hell any damn way I want. And I'll destroy all that you hold dear, including heaven itself."

  The light flickered. The voice said, "Bring it, bitch," and then the light evaporated just as Jack wheeled around with his spear to stab it through. He struck only air and when he realized what had happened he snarled at the sky with impotent rage.

  "You bring parlor tricks to a fist fight you fucking coward, " he yelled at no one in particular. "You'd better believe I'll be learning a few tricks of my own before we meet again."

  Fallen Angel

  Lucifer's wings felt weak but he couldn't stop or Jack would be upon him and they would die horribly. But he couldn't muster the strength to go on much further.

  He fell closer to the earth as his wings gave in to the overwhelming exhaustion. That had never happened to him before. He had the stamina of a million men. Something was off.

  He came down on his feet at a jog, holding Shelly tight against his body the entire time.

  Shelly looked into his eyes. "Are we safe now?"

  Before he could say no, he felt a change within him. His joints ached. His skin itched irritably. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire.

  He gently placed Shelly on her feet before the agony buckled him over. He fell to a knee as Shelly wrapped her arms around him.

  She was crying from concern and fear when out of the clear blue, a blinding light erupted two feet to her left. It was in the shape of a person. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her flight reflex went into overdrive.

  Lucifer looked up at the light and said, "Ah, shit. Finish it then you bastard."

  The light spoke. "I am here to tell you that I have misjudged you for too long. I know you can never forgive me for what I've done."

  "Forgive you? Are you fucking kidding me?"

  The light continued, "I owe you a debt. Tell me what you want in life and I will do my best to make it happen."

  "I want you to slit your own throat."

  The light laughed. It wasn't a cruel laugh, just a laugh to let Lucifer know that he hadn't taken him seriously.

  "Well then, I want the power to defeat you."

  "You had your chance. It's too late for that now. Someone else possesses that strength already. Come on, there must be something I can give you."

  "I want to never deal with you again. I want to be safe from your influence and from Jack and his minions. I want a life of my own with this woman."

  "Okey dokey then."

  With that, the light disappeared. Shelly looked all around, not trusting her eyes, but the coast was clear.

  Lucifer felt instantly better. But when he stood up, his wings fell to the ground with two dull thuds.

  "What the fuck?"

  Shelly felt behind his back, caressing his shoulder blades.

  She said, "There aren't any wounds."

  Lucifer stared at the ground and sighed. "That's because I'm no longer an angel. I asked to be free of God's influence. Only a man is capable of free will. Only a man can ignore the existence of God. He made them weak and imperfect so he bestowed upon them his greatest gift to make up for it."

  Shelly hugged him as he wept tears of joy. He looked her in the eyes and said, "Can you still love me even though I'm just a man now?

  She said, "Of course you dolt. It was just your wings that fell off, right?"

  Lucifer looked down at his crotch, felt it and smiled. "Yep, I'm all good."

  "That's all I need." Then she took a deep breath and said, "Can we still keep the cat?"

  "I guess so."

  Next Stop: Hell

  Melanie felt the restraining force disappear as soon as the light vanished. She was despondent that Jessie was not in its place when it went out but she was starting to come to the realization that Jessie never truly existed, at least not in any way that made sense to her. She missed the boy, or at least the idea she had in her head of the boy, already.

  She ran forward and embraced Jack. It took some time for his stiffness to subside but when it did, he hugged her back.

  For the first time she thought, I'm sure lucky I was drunk for this, otherwise my mind would have cracked into bits.

  She said, "What now? Do you still have to return to hell, you know, since it turns out you run the place now."

  "No. I think I could stay, but it wouldn't be much of a life. In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly fit in around here."

  "We could fix that. We could shave down your horns and find a huge pair of cowboy boots or so
mething to cover your hooves."

  "I tried everything to hide who I am. It all just comes back when I get angry, and to tell you the truth, I don't know if this anger will ever diminish now that I have a true enemy."

  "So you're leaving me?" Tears were welling in her eyes. Her adoptive son, a son she'd grown quite fond of, even loved, was gone. Her doppelganger boyfriend was gone (which was fine but a little bittersweet) and the love of her life was about to be taken from her once again.

  Her old life had sucked but whatever she managed to salvage from this wreckage to form a new life would be utterly unbearable. She'd be better off dead.

  He looked up at the dragon and said, "Cerberus, is there a way we can remain together?"

  Cerberus said, "I control who comes and goes from hell, and you control me."

  That was all Jack needed to hear.

  To Melanie, Jack asked, "Would you be against coming with me?"

  Melanie had never once guffawed in her entire life but she did so now.

  But then she thought about it. She had absolutely nothing left on earth that she even remotely cared about anymore. It had all been taken from her.

  She nodded, even though she was still unsure of the decision.

  He said, "You're sure now?"

  She called up her inner resolve and said, "Yes. I'd rather be queen in hell than alone on earth."

  "That's my girl."

  "Will my body change?"

  "Only if you let it. Personally, I think you'd look hot in exoskeleton armor with a couple cute little horns on your head, and a whip-like tail but I'm a pervert like that."

  Cerberus chuckled and Jack said to Melanie, "Come on then."

  He took her by the hand and helped pull her up to mount the dragon.

  Once they were comfortably seated she asked, "Can this thing fly us to hell? Don't we need a portal or a gateway or something?"

  Jack was clutching the red death ball in his fist. He knew how to truly wield its power now that his memories had returned to him.

  He said, "Yep, watch this." Then he threw the death ball at the ground with all of his strength. The death ball went straight through the ground. A hole instantly opened and widened, linking hell to earth.

  Melanie could hear screams issue from the now vast opening. It smelled of death. Flames licked up and extinguished on contact with the earth realm. She was mortified and mesmerized at once.

  Jack reassured her. "What you're seeing is what God wants hell to be. But God's not in charge anymore. We will create any kind of utopia we can dream of from this day forward."

  She nodded and said, "And then we'll go to war with the son of a bitch."

  "That's my girl."

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, waiting for the dragon to plummet them towards the pits of hell.

  Cerberus took his cue and fell forward into the gaping chasm. It closed up tightly behind them, a thin tendril of smoke, the only thing to escape.

  The End

  For more by Adam Moon, check out:

  Excerpt from Meat by Adam Moon:

  Journal entry number one: (Let’s just call this an intro)

  2/9/2064

  Here’s a thing you might not know about the end of the world: It already happened.

  Shit, some people didn’t even know it at the time. Those lucky fuckers half a century ago heard rumors and innuendo and they shrugged it off because they were a bunch of pansies living the good life. How could their world go to hell when they had it under such iron fisted control? They were insulated from danger, or so they thought.

  But who could blame them for doubting? The rumors were ridiculous, even silly to those not personally attacked those first few nights. Even the infected couldn’t quite relay just what had happened to them in any way that made sense. By the time entire cities were decimated by the scourge it was too late.

  Humanity didn’t quite die off but it was limping from the wounds. Were the wounds fatal? We’ve yet to find that out.

  They had different names for them back then, but the PC cops got involved after everything was under control, and they forbade certain names. Well, they’re not exactly forbidden, but you know, the way saying faggot is sort of forbidden, like that. In the beginning they called them beasts, monsters, or werewolves.

  We call them Bentos nowadays. It has something to do with some type of Portuguese myth about first born sons and the curse of the werewolf, I forget. But when the coast is clear and no Bentos are within earshot you can bet your ass we’re using the W-word, in whispered tones of course; no one wants labeled a bigot.

  Anyway, the very beginning of the outbreak was the worst. Within five weeks America’s population had dwindled by about twenty percent and by the time serious regulations took effect like mandatory lock downs and werewolf registration, a third of the country was gone, digested and pooped out. Of the two thirds left, half were already turned.

  And America got lucky. We had money and a fuckin’ bad-ass military. We could handle this shit. Africa’s a wasteland now, as is most of Asia. South America took a big hit until we provided aide. All told, the planet is now home to just under a billion people. Those old Clinton era tree huggers would’ve probably got a collective boner if they knew the human population that was supposed to keep on growing to the point of collapse would actually decline so abruptly. Their eventual champions: werewolves.

  Anyway, I should start off by saying that this is a memoir of sorts. My grandfather wrote one and when I read it, it changed my life, so hopefully mine will do the same for one of my descendants one day (adoptive because I can’t have kids) or even for a complete stranger interested in unadulterated truth. His memoir chronicled events without sugar coating them. What a relief this was to me. My school history books didn’t hold a candle to his simple diary. His memoir is the reason I became a cop.

  2/10/64

  I’m not sure at what point I should stop writing this, maybe when I run out of interesting stuff to say, maybe when a Bento finally runs me to ground.

  Let me start by introducing myself, I’m Jack Thomson and I’m thirty three years old. I’m an old man by our standards but I feel like I’m still nineteen most days. I’m a police officer but no run of the mill cop; you know, one of those fat gassy idiots who write down statements in a little notebook long after the body’s already cold. Man, fuck those useless bureaucrats. Nope, I’m on a very exclusive task force. I answer to one man, his name’s Carlos and he’s also one of my only real friends.

  It’s always a good idea to befriend your boss: Just a little grandfatherly advice.

  I have a partner who’s a little nuts but he also might just be a genius, the jury’s still out on that. His name’s Carlos too but for the sake of readability I’m going to refer to him as Olaf from here on out. Olaf’s the only person I trust with my life but that’s mostly just because he’s saved me from imminent death so many times. I’ve kept him from becoming dog food plenty too, so don’t go thinking I’m some damsel in distress.

  For the sake of making this a good story I shall now describe Olaf to you. He has black hair. He’s as tall as me; that’s a tad over six foot. When I told him I was writing this he wanted me to make sure I added that he has a huge dick, but alas I can’t as I’ve showered with the man and it’s definitely much smaller than mine. He’s lean and fit and I’m pretty sure he shaves his whole body, eyebrows too. I don’t know why he does this and I’ll never ask. He’s a couple years younger than me; he’s a Scorpio and likes long walks on the beach.

  In all truth though, the man’s a fucking killing machine when the situation presents itself and it all too often does in our line of work.

  Ok, now instead of describing myself, because I’ll probably lie and tell you I’m the most devastatingly handsome man the world has ever produced, I’m going to let Olaf do it for me…and you better not fuck around Olaf.

  This is how I, Olaf Rodriguez describe my partner Jack Thomson: My dick is not small. It’s at least averag
e, if not above average. It’s thick too, like a can of shaving cream. Speaking of which, I shave my body because your wife likes me like that. Fuck you Jack.

  Sorry about that. He’s an idiot. It’s extremely small. I guess I’ll try to be as humble as possible trying to describe myself. You already know my name and age and height so here’s the rest:

  I have dark brown hair.

  2/10/64

  This diary might serve to cleanse my soul the way that alcohol and drugs haven’t. They’ve helped of course but never in any way that makes the nightmares go away completely. Maybe I can jot events down here so I don’t have to remember them. It’s worth a shot. Plus, my shrink will piss her pants when I tell her about it. She thinks I hold too much in.

  You see, what I do is dangerous. It still baffles me that the task force I’m on is sanctioned by the government. There are four of us on this task force, five if you include our handler, Carlos. It’s our job to stop Bento hunters.

  There are crazy fools who venture out at night and risk their lives to kill werewolves and it’s my job to make sure they don’t get away with it. Does this sound uncle Tom-like to you? Well it’s not. I do firmly believe that Bentos are people too, just not after sundown of course, and that they don’t deserve to die unless you’re left with no other options.

  So I hunt down the criminals who hunt Bentos. I’m a hunter’s hunter.

  I especially like to thwart the newest type of hunter, the hillbilly in the pickup truck. These guys are absolute idiots. They’re almost always twenty years old, lacking education and morals but not lacking in firepower. What’s nice about them though is that they have no cause and usually their numbers are restricted to whoever can fit inside the pickup truck. They also always fire upon us at first sight. Because they are unaffiliated with any of the bigoted organizations it cuts down on paperwork if I have to use deadly force because then I don’t have some stupid group coming after me telling me what a nice young man he was and that I may have used excessive force.