Beyond Perdition, page 31
There were, of course, doubters and dissidents, men and women who after the Rapture would dissent from Nero and his Triple Sixer following. They now lived in constant fear of retribution knowing their insolence would not go unpunished.
As time went on, Nero took a back seat to the action, orchestrating the chaos from within his central headquarters. His Lieutenants and Generals continued his work, forcing more to join the cause. The focus, in time, turned to the demonic takeover, and to the Angels descending from Heaven to fight against them. It was the perfect distraction as Nero recruited an ever-growing army to lay siege in the final year of the ‘seven-year war’. Satan had revealed his plans in part and had shown that as the Celestial forces and the principalities of the spiritual realm waged war, his auxiliary army made up of loyal men and women, would amass, bide their time and in the final move would turn the tide of battle, and strike as one. This plan, though beautiful in its telling, had one single weakness. If the Angels held their own, the Seraphim and Cherubim, then the human forces, however large, would not make a difference to the final fate of Heaven and Earth. If Satan was to have dominion over all, then the Demons must gain and retain the upper hand.
There was one more worry. It was hardly something to lose sleep over, but there was a factor that if put into play could prove devastating for Hell’s forces. A group of men, forming what was documented as the ‘Trinity of the Flesh’ or the ‘Carnal Trinity’-but these men were all in Hell and that was where they would remain; surely by now their souls had reached the second death and belonged to the Master.
Nero was not one to dwell on such inconsequential details; his plan was going well and would continue to do so. From the top of the control tower of Farmingington Airport, he had an unhindered view across the coast. Standing by the bank of controls now at his disposal, he could coordinate all things as if he were omnipresent. His first General approached timidly from behind, face cast down in fearful reverence.
‘What is it?’ Nero snapped, his own eyes never leaving the panoramic view afforded by the control tower’s windows which encircled the room.
‘Solid borders have been established across the north, east and west. No one can escape into another state without full documentation pledging their undying allegiance to your cause.’
Nero smiled, though he didn’t let the General see it in case his own contentment cause complacency, many a battle was lost that way.
‘What about the detention centres?’
The question was vague but the General knew it meant ‘how many had been built and how many were now in operation?’
‘State-wide, there are over a thousand centres all in full operation. Dissenters are being made an example of. Even the unbelievers relent if only due to fear.’
Nero began an internal soliloquy, one he had rehearsed a dozen times to speak in one of the many rallies. Fear was the ally, fear was a tool that if utilized correctly could change the tides of war. Fear must be harnessed and spread as a flower pollinates. He was quite proud of that metaphor in his rhetoric and he had his heads of propaganda adopt it in their media spiels.
The General shifted his weight uneasily, it felt cold in Nero’s domineering presence. He knew what his master was going to ask next and yet, as the question came, he stumbled over his words.
‘And the information purge, how is that coming along?’
‘Sir, the book depositories are being burned across the states. Literature in peoples’ homes and places of work are being gathered and burned in public squares. Internet access has ceased, phone lines are down. There is no global communication. Those people teaching on theories of old, be it science, maths or history are imprisoned in the detention centres and made an example of through periodic executions. The oral tradition will soon die and with all existing knowledge being systematically wiped out, it leaves room for your teachings, and your teachings only.’
Nero turned round, his shadow seeming to recede like a black wave from an unknown coast.
‘Do you know why the information purge is so important General?’
‘The New World Order’ came the curt reply
‘The New World Order, the Fourth Reich, the final Empire, whatever you decide to call it, and I have heard it called many names; nothing can come about without the complete removal of that which existed before. The antiquated wisdom of the masses must be eradicated. New treatise must be written.’
‘How can...’ the General stopped himself mid-sentence, fearing insolence.
‘No, do continue General.’
‘Thank you, sir, I was just going to say, how can you cover all the topics? Surely there’s too much for one man to write himself.’
This time Nero allowed the General to see his smile, this time, it was malevolent.
‘I won’t be writing all the information. For the most part, books will be transported from the libraries of Sheol and what will be a first for all man, great occultist knowledge will be revealed. Imagine everyone knowing the secrets of this life and the next, sharing in such a wealth of once secret information. Each person party to the knowledge of good and evil as was originally intended. It will be a glorious time, a new Adamic age...’ Nero stopped, checking to see the General’s reaction.
‘You’ll see, it will be like we are all gods; the Universe, at last, divulging its concealed Truths. Keep me informed, General, I want hourly updates on the progress. Meanwhile, I must prepare for my midweek rally.’
‘Yes sir, very good sir.’
2
Mr Andes and Daniel had managed to grab a few hours shut-eye. Mason had agreed to keep watch but this was mainly due to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to sleep now even if he tried. Pictures of the giant slithering tunnel worm haunted his senses and every time his eyelids closed, he could see its gigantic form burrowing through the tunnel darkness. Mr Andes was mumbling in his sleep but his words were not in English and seemed more like the feverish rantings of a man trapped in a nightmare, pleading with the nocturnal gods to let him pass through alive and wake up on the other side.
***
Mr Andes stood on the port side of a large ferryboat. Waves below bashed mercilessly into the hull sending plumes of sea spray high into the air. The sky above was a dusky red, cloudless but for faint wisps drifting in and out of sight like tendrils of dissipating smoke. A series of figures stood on the deck, looking intently over the ornate balustrade.
They were human in shape but with a set of six wings, two sprouting from the hips, two from the lateral muscles and two, smaller than the others, extending from the shoulders. They were folded inwards, trailing down like swan feathered shawls. The men possessing such avian features also wore ears of elfish or fawn-like appearance, long and triangular tipped. They demonstrated the same grace as deer, the same stoic stance as they peered towards the waves below. A separate crown of light surmounted each of their heads, not a halo as such, but a phosphorescent tiara which blinked in and out of existence.
The closest figure, his muscled body clad in armour of burnished gold, a uniform shade from breastplate to greaves, turned and faced Mr Andes. He did not speak but pointed a gauntleted hand at an island on the horizon.
***
Mr Andes awoke with a start, the meaning of the dream not at first apparent. Mason was nodding off, shaking his head every time it appeared the chains of lethargy were dragging him down. Daniel was still sound asleep, the burial shroud curled into a pillow supporting his head.
‘You alright?’ Mason asked.
‘I think so. I think I was sent a vision. There’s a ferry on the surface, it’s been commandeered by the Angels, commissioned to transport us to an island; that is where I believe we will find Archangel Michael and by God’s grace, Logan. We must get to the surface as soon as possible. Wake up Daniel, we’ll travel north from here. Keep our eyes peeled for ladders or stairs or something that might lead us out of the subway.’
Mason was only too glad to oblige. He shook Daniel awake and as a group they continued down the track, through the dissipating darkness, Daniel holding the shroud in case they needed sudden concealment.
It was nearly three hours later when they found a rusted maintenance ladder extending up to a service hatch. The sight was like a lifeline and at that moment Mr Andes gave thanks to his Father above.
He prayed fervently that they would emerge in a site devoid of Demons, devoid of Triple Sixers and devoid of the negative effects of radioactive fallout. As he listed the seemingly endless array of dangers they could face, Mason and Daniel exchanged fearful looks, their own resolve melting under the new realisation of the task ahead.
Mr Andes took to the ladder first, followed by Mason, and lastly Daniel. Their steps were slow and calculated as they ascended into the unknown.
Mr Andes removed a square hatch which greeted them at the top. Floods of diurnal light exploded before their eyes like a flash grenade. The biting cold of the tunnels was lost to a humid warmth, a kind of summer storm heat. They had each expected to find themselves surrounded by ruinous buildings, raised tower blocks, evidence of a destroyed metropolis but the ground was flat and featureless, a barren expanse of nothingness. That was until they looked to the west and saw the rusted husks of passenger jets, rent fuselages, split wings, exposed avionics.
‘I know where we are’ Mr Andes announced. ‘It’s an aviation graveyard, we travel through here and we’ll reach an airport. It will be easier to get our bearings from there.’
As the group neared the planes, the cylindrical shells and portholes, they could discern the words United Airlines cresting the length of the fuselage. Defunct turbofan engines lay amid crippled landing gear. A series of rudders lay embedded in the earth alongside the anatomical remains of the cockpits and galley. These were not just decommissioned aircraft but all avionic components laid bare in an explosion of steel and circuitry. Mr Andes crossed over a flattened cargo bay door as he tried to assess the possibility of the group camping here before moving forward. Most of the aircraft was in pieces too small to provide ample shelter but up ahead, the fuselage of a Boeing 747 pitted upright by anchoring rear and forward wing stabilizers looked as if it might do the job. The cargo doors were still sealed but they could enter through the galley evacuation doors on the left side.
‘For now, let’s get some rest, we’ll continue tomorrow’ Mr Andes advised.
There was no argument, Daniel and Mason were feeling the toll of a day’s walking and welcomed a chance to sleep undisturbed.
3
During the night, Mr Andes discovered a black box in the cockpit and played the recordings. The pilot and co-pilot were reporting great flashes in the sky before the plane was bought down. Daniel discovered a change of clothing in the luggage compartments, whilst Mason had made himself comfortable in the rear of the galley, opening one of the suitcases and helping himself to some foil-wrapped snacks.
The plan was to locate some maps at the airport, perhaps use the vantage point of the control tower to establish the lay of the land. Mr Andes could picture the ferry in vivid detail and knew this was the direction they were to head.
Nero left the control tower flanked by only his most loyal guards. In the syrupy glow of the dawn-light, he headed towards the central terminal. The kiosks, ticket booths and luggage carousels had all been removed leaving a vast quadrangle marked by red rope barriers running around the perimeter. Generators powered the bar lighting above adding to the muted daylight issuing through the slanted glass-panelled ceiling. Nero was glad to see many in attendance. The brown jackets of the Generals, the grey shirts of the Foot Soldiers, the Triple Sixer insignias emblazoned upon the armbands and the peak of their caps.
As he approached, they all moved aside providing him with a view of the great pyramid in the centre, a mountain of books and pamphlets all ablaze. Theological, sciences and mathematics textbooks were scorched out of existence. A pleasant crackle erupted as thousands of years of accumulated knowledge fizzled out under a flurry of glowing embers. There was great satisfaction in seeing the Bibles tossed into the inferno, the pages curling, browning and then disintegrating under the perishing heat.
Nero stood there and watched enraptured, his eyes flitting between the melting leather spines and the burning covers of the collectors’ editions. Fiction and nonfiction alike lost to the engulfing tongues.
4
As Mr Andes and company moved across the ground they found themselves stumbling over the detritus. Crooked landing gear, burnt-out turbines, rotary blades, cargo-hold doors flipped open to the ground like steel tombstones. Congealed engine oil had spilt over the grass staining the already brown blades into burned looking stalks.
This nightmarish scape continued right up to the airport’s central terminal, a building of aluminium struts and glass panels, of stark edges and angular architecture. It glistened like a polished diamond and yet another light shone from its depths. As the group noticed the strange illuminating display, they heard an echoing, disembodied voice bellowing out of the perimeter speakers.
Mr Andes recognised the voice immediately. He had heard it before on TV reports and radio broadcasts, on campaign rallies and echoed throughout the land on pylon mounted speakers. He’d heard it projected through bullhorns and tannoys, across web feeds and public square telescreens. His skin marbled and a great shiver ran down his spine. His gloved hands began to shake as he gestured the rest of the group to stop.
‘It’s Nero, the true Antichrist,’ he exclaimed, the words leaving his mouth were like poison from a viper’s fangs.
‘This must be his base, in which case we aren’t safe here. Daniel pass me the shroud. The sooner we are away from here the better. It may even be too late.’
Daniel unfurled the shroud and passed it carefully to Mr Andes who stretched it out like a picnic blanket atop the ground.
‘We have to be more careful than ever not to be seen, am I understood?’
Mason and Daniel passed it carefully to Mr Andes who stretched it out over them. Covering their entire bodies right down to their dirty shoes. Mr Andes left a small gap at the front from which to steer so they progressed forward as one like a subway train and carriages.
Nero’s voice was interrupted by a raucous chorus of cheers.
‘Tagor, sanaay, habeen,’ came Nero’s voice and with that, great conical flames changed from dazzling orange to a deep mauve.
‘He sounds like he’s using underworld magic, a little like what Argon taught me.’ Mason commented, ‘it’s worrying what he could do with such knowledge of the black arts.’
‘Well, we aren’t going to stick around to find out.’
The group had reached the far right corner of the terminal building when Nero resumed his oration.
‘The fires that have come down and destroyed this fertile land are no accident, they are ordained, so is the plan of the Master. As God destroyed with water and rebuilt again, so the Master uses fire to cleanse and purge that which is unclean. As you gather as my disciples, you are witness to the conception of a New World from out of the fires of Gehenna, a re-emerging of the continents and a formation of the New Earth. Those loyal to me and thus the Master will sit in mansions, their enemies lost to the ages, a new government presiding over all, amen!’
Another great cheer emanated as the purple fire continued to burn.
‘This is the age of knowledge. No longer will you be in the darkness of ignorance, but in the blissful light of the eternal truth. A new Adamic age where you will not be punished for want of knowledge, but sit as kings judging the world.’
‘He speaks with a forked tongue to men of wavering faith who lap up his lies without question. Many will turn to him in these times and many shall be lost. Come, let’s not get sucked into this.’ Mr Andes said solemnly
‘But’ Mason began, ‘even if we are able to defeat Satan himself, what of this man, what of the Antichrist?’
Mr Andes stopped and although his profile was in shadow he turned around.
‘Cut off the head and the body shall follow.’
The group were at least a hundred meters from the edge of the terminal now. It was just a matter of crossing unseen over two runways and an abandoned bus depot. They kept the shroud tucked tightly around them. Ahead, the rusted husks of passenger buses, windows smashed, undercarriages dripping with engine oil, looked like a field of slain wildebeests. Old perfume advertisements were peeling away like epidermal ribbons on flayed carcasses. Like head open-wounds, radiator leaked their fluid which dripped persistently from the caved-in bonnets.
The group stopped as Mr Andes sighted a figure up ahead. Someone was emerging from around one of the buses, a semi-automatic aimed like a torchlight across the ground.
‘Here pass me the spear,’ Mr Andes whispered, ‘I got an idea.’
The guard moved between the vehicular carnage, training his firearm above and below the great metallic husks as if expecting something to jump out suddenly. Mr Andes guided the group forward under the concealment of the shroud until they stood mere metres from the armed individual. Then in a singular, abrupt move, he flung the shroud up and dived forward. Tightly gripping the spear, he coursed forward angling towards the guard and finally piercing his midsection just below the floating ribs.
No sooner had Daniel grabbed the parachuting shroud as it flapped back to the ground, did he glimpse the grimace of pain on the guard’s face as he realised his short life was coming to an end and there was little he could do about it. He keeled forward, his hands clutching the embedded triangular tip, arterial blood spouting outwards in long red arcs. His soft abdominal tissue seeming to absorb the spear, suck it into an irretrievable depth. But it didn’t matter, it had served its purpose. The guard was now standing upright once again, a deathly glow about his face. His eyes shone outwards in a kind of hypnotic stare. Any sign of intelligence, any remaining faculties were lost to a dazed sheen. His mouth drooped open as if his jaw had unhinged. Mr Andes turned to the stricken man
