My Terror Tuesday is ready for your perusal. What could possibly happen after Rapture? Will Ed botch that up too? Read and see . . .
THE MISTS OF PAPOOSE POND
Chapter Twenty Four
My army . . . my entire human army at least, starts rising up towards some point I can't even see because of the brightness covering the panorama surrounding me. Why does it seem that Heaven is actually up, while Hell falls in some sort of alternate universe, beyond us but on the same plane, and not below like we have been lead to believe all this time? No bowels of the earth shit. The whole scenario gets more confusing all the time.
An overwhelming force is pulling on me, trying to lift me off the ground and towards the light. My right hand is encased in that of Louise's. True to her word, she's not letting go of me, but this time . . .this time she has to.
I can't leave! My job isn't done.
"You go, sweetie," I say. "Save me a place up there. I need to finish this."
Releasing my grip on her hand does no good. Her grip becomes even stronger. "No way, Mister Stubborn Person. We're a team, remember?"
"You two should be shot!" Tom says. "I feel the pull, too, although I don't know why, but I can't leave you two here. Shit, Ed, you'd fuck everything up without me to watch your sorry ass."
Bob and Zach are hanging on to the sides of the trucks, fighting against the pull themselves. "This is too much fun to leave!" Bob hollers. "We're staying, too."
Howard too is hanging on for dear life, not wanting to let his piloting fun stop now.
The light lingers for a while, almost as if it is waiting for us to change our minds. But, the world, or the end of the world as we know it, can not wait any longer. There are six of us now to fight Satan and end times. Shit!
"Oh, Mister Ed, so glad you could stay and allow me to punish you for your transgressions against me, and for the stupidity you showed in not taking the easy way out. Do you really think God will reward you any more for what you're doing? Dumb shit. You let loose of the golden egg, and you're taking your friends with you along a rather torturous road."
Everything whacks me in the head right now! We have no weapons to use against the forces of the Dark Angel. Our helicopters are still inside Hell, and all the flame throwers are out of gas. Bob and Zach managed to get two trucks out, the others that made it through the gates to Hell are tipped over on to their sides. Two trucks are our escape plan. That's all we have. It's not a good plan.
At least out here we are able to recruit the forces of Zombie ghosts, but we can not create any new recruits without being able to turn the Zombies to ash. The confusion will only last so long, and then?
Our webbed friends fight in front, not able to completely destroy the invincible moving forces once again coming at us from the viscous opening, but keeping them away from the humans armed merely with axes: not much of a weapon against this rabble constantly coming at us, crawling up us, biting into us, tearing out chunks of our flesh even though they are rudimentary pieces of the whole entities from which they came.
All six of us are rapidly losing the battle against these mindless creatures. Even with my enhanced powers, we are at a huge disadvantage. Laughter peels across the field of battle, spurring the evil ones in their attacks against us. Satan has a ring side seat to this display of disparity. He is enjoying every moment of it.
Oh, my God! My big friends and I set up our thought confusion barrier against the minds of Satan and His angels. The winged beasts drop from the sky, no longer attacking any of us. We need a shield to set up our defense: a defense that will in moments become an offense, one that I had no idea was among us.
A green glow flows across the entire field of battle, transforming everything in to a surreal, unearthly display of hidden wonder, a glory now to unfold, and to be unleashed against the forces of the dark. The Maker has not abandoned us. Our new line of attack has arrived.
They stand as a single force, awaiting their transformations, much as repugnant caterpillars become gorgeous butterflies. Their eyeless bodies split open and fall to the ground, whatever pain involved with the process-and my powers tell me the pain is great-gladly accepted as part of who they are and the mission upon which they will soon embark.
In a sudden swoosh, shoving the green away and ushering in a majestic light once more, they stand: robes of white with gorgeous wings to match, and bearing swords encrusted with gold and precious stones. The Angels of the Lord, here all the time, but hidden from our view, are resplendent in all their glory.
Not wasting a precious second, the Angels attack the ones attached to the forces of Satan and fly in and out, slashing away at will and converting them to mere husks of their former greatness. Satan roars in supreme shock and wonderment and drags his forces back in to Hell, using his zombies to carry the fallen and dismembered back. The viscous opening closes, and we are alone.
"Holy shit!" Tom shouts. "That alone was worth not going with the others into Rapture and entering Heaven!"
I chuckle. "It's not over yet, Tom. This is going to be a long war. That was a mind blower, though."
"Stop jawing," Louise says. "We need to get moving back to the Armory and restock. Hit and run. Remember?"
Of course, she's right. The six humans pile into the trucks, and instead of the webbed guys, a number of the Angels accompany us. Drivers! They intend to become drivers for the trucks, and somehow-nothing surprises me any longer-they intend to pilot some of the Black Hawks as well.
My webbed friends left behind don't stop with their mind games. Even though Satan and his lackeys are back inside Hell, they want to make certain the Dark One doesn't think that the coast is clear for him and his warriors. They remain there as a deterrent force, using mind transference instead of munitions: a much more powerful weapon.
We arrive at the Armory and find fifty trucks and a dozen Black Hawks waiting for us, all fully loaded. Leaving only a skeleton crew to prepare for the next reloading, we take off in a hurry, the Angels doing a better job than me of flying the helicopters. Those driving the trucks maneuver on the road so deftly that the bumps and washouts seem like mere pebbles strewn before them.
Once we get back to the portals of Hell, we find all is calm there, no messages being relayed from inside that I'm aware of. We grab the rest of the giants and follow the road towards civilization. Yes, they'll think we're looney, but we have to save as many as we can, in spite of themselves.
Incoming helicopters invade the sky and come at us once more, intent on destroying us. Guess Satan forgot to mention to these pilots that we have special pilots on our team now, a force a cut above anything they have to offer. Sacrificial lambs being led to the slaughter is what they are.
They swoop and attack, firing constantly, only to have all of us aware of their moves before hand. We drop them one at a time, watching in delight as they careen towards the ground below. In mere minutes, the skies are empty of the evil ones.
This is much too easy. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffen long before multiple voices attack my mind with what is happening and what is going to come. Tanks roll in, kicking up a wide swatch of dust and debris, our trucks directly in front of them. No escape for either side. This is it: the moment of truth.
Seemingly, the tanks should hold an edge, but our soldiers are not listening to any of that and attack with gusto, slamming anti-tank artillery at them, and shoving grenades through the hatches shaken open by the constant bombardment. Bob slams one home and barely gets back to a truck in time to escape the debris bombarding the air around him. He lets out a hoop of delight. Going the way he is now, I just hope he manages to survive this war and gets to Heaven without having to wait for the Second Coming.
Wherever these suckers are coming from, there are plenty of them, and I find it hard to believe that the Devil managed to find this many recruits to fight against us. With all the loyal military personal in the Armed Forces, it's incomprehensible that there are this many bad eggs. But I suppose there has to be some and Satan latched on to them.
We're taking it to them, and I'm almost in a sense of false security, when I hear the laughter in the distance, rumbling as loud as the loudest peels of thunder could ever achieve.
"Guess what, Mister Ed?. There is more than one way to get into Hell, and hence, more than one way to leave when I command it. Kiss your ass goodbye, mother fucker!"
As far as the eye can see, in every direction, they advance upon us. I can't even begin to estimate their numbers. Zombies from the beginning of time, waiting this special moment, added to those from more recent times. The most disgruntled are the ones from the days of the great flood. Some of them are of gargantuan proportions.
Damn! Nephilim Zombies, half fallen Angel and half human, but 100% pissed off. There will be no convincing these bad boys that even if we manage to turn them to ash that the way of God is the right path.
An eye for an eye. And right now: billions of eyes are on me!
I am so fucked!