Here is my Terror Tuesday for this week. Ed steps up to the plate big time this week and goes after some Satanic ass!
THE MISTS OF PAPOOSE POND
Chapter Thirty Two
Not all my friends are dead. Some are wounded and others arrive late to the game. As much as I want to tear out of here, go after Satan, and get Louise back, I know my wounded buddies need care and a place of refuge where they can heal. It won't take long for these guys, they're as strong as oak trees, but some time non-the-less.
Besides, if I leave now, I'll go out half-cocked, do something stupid, and play right into Satan's hands. I need a plan. Otherwise Louise and I will both be killed.
We get my wounded friends to the cavern I was in with the magical pools. This is what they need. I tell my healthy friends to stay with them, to make sure they are okay, but they know what I have in mind and tell me I will not go alone. They will make certain enough of them are left to take care of their comrades, but their friends were killed, and they will not allow the evil to go unpunished. Somehow, they will extract vengeance on the Dark Angel.
I, too, can not leave things as they are. Louise . . .I must get her back. She is the reason for all I do. Damn! I love the woman!
They and I have common goals and love for one another. We are a team.
In no time at all, my friends and I are on our way, me with my sword, and them with machetes, axes, and some with nothing but brute strength. Yeah, I can envision them now, tearing chunks out of the enemy standing in the way of us achieving our mission, limbs and flesh flying everywhere. Let the recombined parts come together again. What does it mean to them? They would shake them off as if they were fleas. I would be the one harmed most by the teeth of the Zombie intestines and flesh eating blood, but I'll just have to man up to it. Fuck, what's another bite or two?
We reach the viscous opening separating Hell and earth and find it open. Easy access. Too damn easy. This is a set-up. We all know it's a set-up. But if we know that's what it is, then it isn't. Enough fucking logic for now. Action is what we need.
I worry about the heat my buddies will have to deal with before I realize Hell isn't the cauldron of fire we all thought it was. At least the part I have seen isn't. It's hotter on Earth right now with the molten lava and the flames needed to incinerate the Zombies. Hell is more a state of mind, a psychological place of entrapment. Satan controls the nerve endings of the vertebral cortexes perhaps, with a little twist here, a pull there, but there must be a means to keep the evil people confined here in line. No one is here that should not be here.
More monsters such as those we released before are chained to the walls. We read their minds, knowing which ones to free to help us. They will be loyal soldiers the same as their kin are. What have they to lose? Nothing.
I think again and decide to let all of these creatures go. There is nothing in their minds telling me they will attack us. Instead, visions come to me of them being taunted constantly by Satan and all the other denizens of Hell. Year upon year of torture like this has left them hardened and mean.
"You guys are ready to work on the right side for a change!" I holler. "Let's get the bastard responsible for you being subjected to this horse shit!"
Most of them are no longer able to speak; their tongues have been ripped out and their vocal cords destroyed, but they don't have to talk. I know their thoughts; I feel their anger; and together we will work to change things.
Our new warriors with us, we push through the cavernous area we're in and move towards the section where I sense Satan to be. The walls pulsate as if they are a living thing, the air not being as it is outside. The viscosity of the opening to Hell seems to extend to the walls and the very air inside this residence of evil.
The Wicked One appears ahead, this time in his Dark form, meanness etched on his face, but his expression changes to that of a leer as soon as the air twists and turns, the reality of my senses confused as I stare into what appears almost to be a house of mirrors.
Damn! The multi verse theory is true! Hell is not merely one alternate universe but a number of them, residing in close proximity to each other, so close that the distinction between them is vague and not concrete.
A myriad number of the Dark Angel's faces show themselves to me. Any one of them could be Him; or none of them. The real deal could be anywhere, not even in Hell maybe. Shit! How do we find where he really is?
"Another trick, guys!" I holler out as I strike through all the projections of the mocking bastard with my sword, watching as they dissolve into the ground, leaving nothing in their wake but a gooey, gelatinous substance.
We pass through the area to get to where Satan really is, but the slop on the floor reaches up to grab us, trying to pull us down and through the floor. My grotesque warriors scream in pain, and the webbed ones and I let out a savage assault on the mini Devils, gaining ground against them until they rear up and grow before our eyes. Soon, they are larger than any of us and advance against us from a position of strength.
The Satanic replications are impervious to everything we use against them: except my sword. It holds some kind of power, some force, that forces them back, depriving them of their power. For some reason though, it does not destroy them, only holding them at bay.
Fuck! These are Satan's children, Dark Angels themselves, and as such they are immortal. I can slice and dice, cutting them into pieces, but it is all merely momentary. Much as the Zombies, they will recombine and come back, perhaps stronger. But while the Zombies can be destroyed by fire, these groadies can't.
Damn, so many parts of this war seemingly have no solutions, no closure.
Even if His children will come after us later, it is of no consequence. Our goal is Satan and some meting out of justice. We finish up here for now, and I follow where my senses lead me.
Confusion abounds as the separations between the plane that Earth resides within and those of the Dark Realm come close to one another, the action of the war almost pushing through the thin boundaries between the two. Distortion of my friends' senses runs a close parallel to mine, and we have to exert great control over what we accept to be fact versus what the Devil wants us to believe. We work as a team and transmit our own thought transferences towards where we believe the scum-sucker to be.
If he wants confusion, we are up to the task at hand.
It works, as his agitated mind roars in pain from our bombardment. Coming from all directions, our thought confusion weakens his ability to formulate a plan of attack against us. He no more knows where we are than we know where He is. But his anger . . .but his anger will shine through and we'll find the bastard.
Layer after layer of multi-verse separate us from Him, needing the work of my new sword to pierce through them and allow us an avenue of entry into their center. Much like the collapse of air filled bladders supporting a temporary assemblage of walls and ceilings, the entry portion of these alternate universe openings fold in on us, threatening to smother us by their very presence. My friends and I fight back against the jig-saw layering and investigate every reasonable place of abode for the Dark One.
Untold numbers of damned beasts and Zombies pour out from the open areas, and we have to fight them away in order to pursue the Master of Evil. While the battle is rough, it is not like the one in the plane that Earth resides in. As much as these bastards would love to tear us to shreds and feast on our flesh and blood, they are pulled towards the battle waging between Satan and God. For now, at least, that works to our advantage. We'll still have to deal with them later.
It takes many levels of existence under the control of the Devil before we finally reach him, attacking Him from all sides with our weapons. Anger or not, the beast is a weapon of force unlike any other we have fought. While in the past He has chosen to let his lackeys do his work for Him, such is not the case anymore. He fights like an enraged animal, tearing apart my friends, tossing them to the side like so much worthless trash.
Closer and closer I get to the bastard, my sword sending a tune of vengeance through the confines of our present battle arena, forcing out spasmodic amplification of sound and pressure against the restraining walls of confinement between us and escape for either side. The stinging of the sharp steel present within my majestic sword, along with the magic of the Creator, dig the blade into the flesh of He who would attempt to topple the Almighty. His anger is both tortured and confused. I am merely a worthless human monkey in His eyes. There is no way I should be able to wield the power I am.
"Think again, Satan!" I holler out. "You have pissed me off! The power in me is not only rational, but focused. The burr in your side is here with vengeance. I will not quit until you are gone; until God remainders you to the dung pile of absolute shame and disgrace."
"You over achieving piece of shit!" he hollers back. "Your insolence will cause you pain and death, and that of your woman as well."
Wrong words! I attack him even harder now, the plasma like walls surrounding me filling up with his blood.
"Look at this, Dark One! You bleed! The same as all of God's creatures, you bleed."
Anger fills the area. "I am not one of God's creatures. I don't belong to Him."
"Ha! You were created by Him, the same as me and my friends, only you were one of His fucking failures. Instead of clay, He created you from shit. You're no more than shit with wings!"
Total chaos erupts all around me. An earthquake of dementia rattles through everything seen and unseen, forces reaching out to grab us and turn us into mere pieces of what we once were. Our minds . . .our minds are our strongest weapons as we wage war against the Satanic forces. Willing them back, we are able to control the assault against us, combining the mental and physical to forge an efficient fighting machine.
Satan's lackeys are torn to shreds by us, and the big guy Himself is left battered and bloody.
"Not used to this, are you?!" I holler out. Laughing and taunting Him, I wield the sword ever more efficiently, delighting in His every outcry.
Crashing thunder and lightning transform the viscous material into a light show of unparalleled proportion, looking much like an old Frankenstein movie where the power comes down from the heavens and turns the monster into a viable force, an entity exuding life and ready to take over its destiny.
"Fuck your pitiful power show, you bastard!" I holler. "It doesn't bother me. Come on: up the ante. Show me your best shot. Sock it to me before I cut your damned wings off and feed them to the beasts you tortured and chained to the walls. I hear them now, mumbling their approval, the drool of anticipation dripping from their mouths. Maybe, just maybe, we could give them some Deviled Tongue. Ooh, would that be sweet revenge or what? Open your mouth, prick! Let me do what needs to be done!"
A sword appears in his hands, maybe not as majestic as the one I possess, but a magnificent weapon none-the-less. Hatred in His eyes, He attacks me for all He's worth, but the magic sword created by God sings a melody, and it's not one of compromise or defeat. It is time for me to be the possessed one, going for the jugular, bent on extracting my revenge and inflicting pain and retribution.
Toe to toe we stand, our swords creating a cacophony of sound so loud as to block out all other sensations, even the sounds which would normally come into my ears, telling me of what his thoughts are. I have no need of that now, He stands before me and the goal is simple: drive him away or be destroyed.
Blood from both of us flows along the cavern floors, the entrapped electrical discharges from earlier enhancing the kaleidoscope of colors, making it resemble an old disco dance floor. No dance floor here, though, unless one cares to call the thrust and parry of the swords a dance of battle, an art in itself. As long as I am the one to lead in this intense mambo, I will be happy.
Pain saps my strength, but I can not stop now. I am holding my own, perhaps even coming out a bit ahead in this end days duel. Swing after swing, slash after slash of my sword makes the Devil weaken, and I sense he is more tired than me. I move in for the kill-at least as much a kill as I can hope to achieve against an entity who is immortal.
Closer and closer I get to totally disabling him, at least enough to find out the whereabouts of Louise, when He sucks up an extra reserve of untapped strength and forces me back for a second: just enough time for Him to escape into some other multi verse, some other part of Hell.
Shit! I am no closer to finding Louise than I was before.
But wait! A voice calls to me from a void beyond where I am at. There is pain in the voice, but all is not lost; there is also strength and resolve in the pleading.
"I'm coming, Louise! I'm coming!"