This is my Terror Tuesday for this week. Needless to say, Ed is being Ed, and that doesn't necessarily bode well: for him or his friends. Zombies, Satan, Hell Hounds, huge webbed creatures, and wise-ass Ed. Yeah, baby! Hang on for the ride!
The Mists Of Papoose Pond
Chapter Twenty Three
"Like this, little man?"
He stands before me, not as a normal sized man, or even a giant for that matter, but as a being of immense proportions, huge black wings, stretched out thirty feet from tip to tip, and an immense mane of black hair, swirling around in the breeze created by the flapping of His smaller brethrens' wings.
Oh shit! This is not good."Yeah, that's better," I say, trying to goad him into a little anger: not a lot mind you, just enough to take away from rational thinking and add a bit of recklessness on his part."At least I can see your pansy ass now. If your power is so great, I don't see why you have to hide in the cloak of invisibility. Shit, you're four times my size. It's about time you grew a pair, or do you Angels even have any balls. Heh, heh, I've heard tell that you have the sex organs of men and women both. Does that mean you can fuck yourself?"
Not the perfect thing to say. His mind is filled with rage, going far beyond the tweaking I was hoping to accomplish. My big buddies are shocked at what spewed out of my mouth, but what's done is done. I said it and will have to pay the consequences now.
Satan roars in anger and comes at me, but my buddies and I all gather 'round and muddle his dark mind and the minds of his helpers. We're not doing any permanent damage of any kind, but we are stopping them from sending us to our next level of existence. For right now, that's enough. The same as with the guerrilla tactics employed by our forces, our goal is to confuse and do a song and dance act, dangle a carrot and jerk it away kind of thing. My friends let me know I'm good with the jerk part.
The 'copters return in record time and lace in to the Dark Angels flying about, using the guns well, stripping the winged ones of a lot of their feathers and sending them to the ground. The webbed guys in the copters throw flame throwers to their compatriots below, and they quickly set them on fire.
But the fallen Angels can not be killed. They are immortal; they can be hurt, experience pain, but no matter what happens to them, they can recombine and wham!: they're back to their evil selves again.
This so sucks! Every time I turn around, there are creatures that just can not be destroyed. Over and over again, they come at us; we wipe them out; and they fight us in some new form. "Excuse me, God! Maybe a little help would be nice," I think.
Okay, nothing happens. So much for divine intervention at the moment.
Bob and Zach arrive with the trucks, blasting through the Zombies and taking the fight to them. For some reason, the Zombies stop coming back in to Hell and resume their journey against the rest of the human populace on the planet. Shit! We've been scammed! Satan had this plan all along. He wants us inside. Fuck! He's going to close the portal to his home. Our backs are up against the wall now.
Zombies and Fallen Angels attack us repeatedly, our forces depleted because a lot of the Zombie ghosts were denied access to Hell, the viscous opening sealing up, keeping them out. I hear them talking outside the boundaries, but there is no way for them to get in to help unless Satan somehow releases his grip on the seal.
Satan doesn't have to say a word: His thoughts ring loud and clear. "We got you, you loud mouthed bastard! Time for you to grow a pair!"
Grow a pair it is! I fight like a man possessed, kicking, hitting, and slamming into them with the flame thrower in my hand until . . .until the fuel runs out. Oh shit! Not a good thing.
For the rest of our army, the same thing happens. Flame thrower after flame thrower runs out of fuel, and we are left to look at one another, wondering what to do next. The webbed giants can still fight back with their superior strength and mind powers, but the humans are not as fortunate. Thirty of us are destined to be slaughtered.
The Zombie ghosts present inside recruit from within the fallen Zombies. Maybe the converts are not as numerous as they would have been without the overpowering presence of the Dark Angel hovering over them, but it is enough to cause at least a momentary state of confusion on the parts of the advancing forces.
Fortunately for us, the Hell Hounds don't tear through the rift and attack us from behind. We only have to worry about the ones in front of us, and the giants are able to keep them in check. Shit! The answer to our escape, the solution to our woes: we use the enemy to fight against themselves.
I run to the edge of the entrance to Hell, and taunt the beasts, daring them to get me, to drag my carcass to their Master. "Yes, you cowardly hounds! I am one and you are legion. Get me if you dare!"
My friends join in and the confusion runs rampant everywhere. Dogs, Zombies, Angels: all of them no longer under the spell of their Master, instead listening to confusing voices within telling them that this pesky little bastard must be dealt with and removed. Satan realizes only too late what is happening and can not bring them back under control.
They leap, fly, and advance from everywhere, but their focus is confused, and they tear through the viscous opening, allowing us to escape, although it is nip and tuck all the way. Sadly, my mind tells me we have lost some of our troops, but their efforts are not in vain; within minutes, all of us are out and back on to terra firma.
We regroup and start to go back towards the Armory when it happens: a huge clash in the sky, followed by an immense light, enough to blind us all. The ground shakes beneath us; not an earthquake this time; this is much different: a peeling of a special bell, an announcement that the time is at hand.
The rapture has arrived!