“The Angel taught me how to raise the dead and guide them to the Black Fields, where lost souls were supposed to enter the Great Slumber. For hundreds of years, I resurrected millions, working endless days and nights in hopes of seeing my wife and child. And then I discovered another truth.”

  Captivated by Forneus’s story, Arlo listened intently. “What did you learn?”

  “I learned that the Demons of Hell are eternal liars.”

  Forneus lifted himself from the ground and banged his head again on the ceiling. This time he crouched down before he took his first step and walked over to Arlo. Slowly, he sat in front of Arlo with bones grinding and cracking.

  “It turns out that the first and second visitors were the same Demon. That bastard murdered my family and returned to enslave me.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “A third visitor. One night, while I was digging up a grave, one of Heaven’s true Angels appeared in the graveyard. She told me that the Demon lied to me and that there would be no reunion with my wife and son—Thema is in Heaven, but my son . . .”

  “Where is he?”

  “My son is in Hell with the Demon that killed my wife—he’s raising him as his own.”

  “Gosh!”

  “I asked the Angel if she could help me get my son back, but she said God was angry, and there was no way he was willing to intercede on my behalf. All those dead souls I awakened were good souls without the blemish of sin; Hell handpicked them and, like an idiot, I resurrected those souls and gave them to the Demon. The Black Fields wasn’t a place to enter the Great Slumber, but instead was one of four entrances into the domain of Hell. The Demon tricked me into sending millions of innocent souls to Hell, where they all suffer today.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes. That Demon son of a bitch got the best of me. Heaven’s punishment for me is an eternal life of atonement. I can’t be with my wife until I repay the debt. And my son? Who knows if I’ll ever see him? I don’t know what he looks like, or even his name. I have no idea what kind of childhood he’s experienced or what kind of man he’s become. If I meet him by chance, his soul will be so corrupted by what he’s learned that he’ll try to take my soul to Hell for their tortuous pleasure.”

  “There’s always a chance that your son’s love for you will be greater than—”

  Forneus slammed his fist on the ground again in anger. “Shut up! You speak of a driveling hope that doesn’t exist. Hell has him! They know I’ve stopped supplying the Black Fields with fresh innocents, and soon my son will come to drag me to Hell.”

  Arlo sensed Forneus’s anger rising and tried to change the subject. “So Hell put those things in you?”

  Forneus rubbed his head with his hand. “While they provide specific helpful abilities, their primary job is to torture me with their never-ending screams. The snakes? They’re forever locked inside by a spell, and I descend to Hell forever if I somehow decipher the sorcery and free the serpents.”

  Arlo was confused. “Wait. You said you are here to suffer an eternal life of atonement. What does that mean?”

  “Each soul has an earthly value of one hundred years.”

  “And?”

  “And I sent millions to Hell. You do the math.”

  “Whoa!”

  “That’s right. At a minimum, I’ll be here for a billion years.”

  Arlo shook his head. “Is there any way to shorten your sentence?”

  “For every good deed that saves a soul, Heaven will give me a reduction of fifty years.”

  Suddenly a blood-covered Isadora appeared at the entrance of the building, holding a dead fox in her arms. Her eyes had a bluish glow, making her seem even more frightening as the light from her eyes accentuated her half-decomposed face. She walked over to Arlo and dropped the carcass in front of him.

  “You’re probably hungry, so I brought you something to eat,” she said in Arlo’s head.

  Arlo could only pretend he wasn’t hungry for a few moments before jumping on the dead animal and biting into its skull. He peeled back the bone, slamming his face into the animal’s brain. A deep, satisfying moan escaped his throat as he swallowed, savoring the raw meat. Meanwhile, Isadora sat down beside Forneus and watched Arlo consume his meal.

  After eating the animal’s brain, Arlo stuck his fingers underneath the fox’s ribcage and pulled it apart like a giant clam shell. He didn’t hesitate when he saw the animal’s heart. Arlo reached in, yanked it free, and thrust it into his mouth so hard that his teeth peeled the skin off his hand.

  When Arlo finished eating, he looked up from his meal and saw Isadora and Forneus watching him. The two were a spectacle sitting against the wall, like creatures from different worlds—Forneus, a towering skeleton of ancient bones lighting the room with the glow from his skull of worms, and Isadora, a tiny, disfigured corpse with luminous eyes. Although Arlo knew he was part of the death scene, seeing the two tortured souls was a dreadful fright and still terrified him. Feeling afraid and somewhat embarrassed, Arlo pushed the scraps of the animal away and sat against the wall.

  “I-I’m ssssorry,” his garbled voice spoke.

  “’Tis ok-k-kay,” replied Isadora, struggling to speak while air rushed out of the hole in her face.

  “Why do you continue to try to speak with your regular voice?” asked Isadora inside Arlo’s mind. “Speaking in your head is much easier—and clearer.”

  Arlo tried shrugging, but his attempt was lost in his inability to control his body movements, making his shrug seem like a convulsion.

  “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t gotten used to it yet. Maybe a part of me wants my old life back.”

  Forneus shook his enormous head in disapproval and stood up. Crouching, he walked over to the remains of the dead fox and pushed his massive skeletal hand inside the creature’s chest. The leg of the animal jerked once, then again before raising itself from the floor to stand. With the hole in its head and its brain missing, it glared at Forneus with shimmering catlike eyes, growling and moaning, before finally sprinting out into the dark forest. As soon as the fox was gone, Forneus turned to face Arlo and Isadora.

  “The two of you had better accept reality. You’re dead, and that’s the end of it. There’s no going back. You only have two choices—this zombie existence or the Deep Slumber, that’s it. Take this time to learn about your capabilities and ensure your loved ones are okay. But the existence you have is . . .”

  Bewildered, Arlo suddenly stood. “I completely forgot! Mom! Dad!”

  Stumbling and struggling to maintain his balance, Arlo ran out of the building into the forest, with Isadora running close behind.

  The Army of Hell

  As John laid on the bloody table, waiting for his master to arrive, he looked around the room and felt a sense of pride; the human intestines hanging from the ceiling and walls were just as he instructed—packed with blood and feces, filling the room with the wondrous stench of suffering. A small chunk of waste fell from the ceiling and landed on John’s forehead, but he didn’t object. The feces warmed his whole body, and he wiped the glorious mess all over his face.

  “Balam will be satisfied,” he whispered.

  Suddenly all the intestines in the room started glowing like burning coals, casting a red light on John’s naked body. Soon, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur.

  “My Lord approaches,” said John.

  Suddenly there was a humming sound followed by moans and screams. John looked at the floor and saw the corpses thrashing around like they were alive. The decapitated head of one of the nurses suddenly opened her eyes.

  “Noooo!” she screamed. “Get me out of here! He’s coming to get me!”

  The nurse’s eyes started bleeding, and her tongue swelled into a thick purple chunk of meat, making her gag. The other bodies, missing their hearts and intestines, all reacted the same, and the room filled with cries of terror. The cries all reached a crescendo of suffering, and the room fell silent again.

  “I am here,” a deep voice boomed.

  “Yes, my Lord,” whispered John with his eyes closed. “I am your willing servant.”

  “Are you prepared to see your master?”

  “I am.”

  All the intestines in the room began to swell, filling with fluid and emitting a foul odor much more potent than before. Suddenly they exploded, sending their contents shooting throughout the room. As the liquid splashed everywhere, John closed his eyes and prepared himself.

  “Will you pay the fee?”

  “I will.”

  Suddenly with one loud ripping sound, all the skin on John’s body tore off.

  “AAAAARRRRRGGG!” screamed John, trying to take the pain.

  A black mist appeared at the bottom of the bed in the shape of a towering, voluptuous woman. John lifted his head to look at the shadow and regretted it immediately—his eyes began burning, and large puss-filled sores appeared on his eyelids. John laid his bloody, hairless head on the table and closed his eyes.

  “Please forgive my curiosity, Lord. I meant no disrespect.”

  The smoke slowly melted away, and a tall woman dressed in a hooded black robe appeared at the foot of John’s bed. Balam’s coarse red skin was scaly, resembling the skin of a snake, and it constantly moved, sliding along her bones like silk, making her appearance grotesque. She stared at John with two enormous, mirrored eyes that were so close to one another that they appeared to be one.

  As John twisted in agony, Balam extended one of her long fingers and touched John’s skinless foot, causing his leg to burst into flame.

  “AAAAARRRRRGGG!” John screamed again.

  “Hehehehe,” Balam laughed, her demonic voice deep like a man’s. “Do you hate us?”

  “I d-d-don’t,” replied John.

  The fire on his foot went out, and Balam moved to John’s side. She waved her hand over his face, and the sores on John’s eyes lids disappeared.

  “You may open your eyes.”

  John opened his eyes and saw Balam standing over him.

  “I see you have taken another soul.”

  Trying not to let the pain affect his words, John replied. “Yes, Lord. I took the soul of the boy Manuel.”

  Balam closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Goooood. I can feel the energy of the others inside you. They make you strong.”

  John smiled and let his eyes fall to the floor. He was happy his actions pleased his master.

  “The time to cover the world in darkness is upon us, and now is the time to construct Hell’s soldiers.”

  John wanted to ask questions, but he wasn’t sure how to speak to the Demon. Balam saw the confused look on John’s face and reached out to touch his blistering scalp. As soon as her fingertip touched John, hundreds of plump maggots with metallic teeth burst from his head and started feeding on his flesh. Unable to ignore his pain, John began trembling while Balam turned away.

  “If you do not dare to ask the simplest questions, how can you be trusted to lead such a powerful army?” she snapped.

  Unable to wait on the mercy of Balam to take the feasting creatures away, John raised himself on the table and used his hands to wipe the worms from his head, peeling chunks of his scalp with them.

  “I’m sorry, Lord. I will do better,” whispered John, trying his best to fight through the stinging sensation on his scalp.

  Balam turned back to face John. “You will use the children's bodies as carriers of this.” Balam opened her palm to reveal a tiny red vile.

  John moved close to Balam’s hand. “What is it?”

  “This vile contains the seedlings of Huturo, a creature of joyous pain from the mud on the banks of the river Styx.”

  John took the vile into his palm and stared at it.

  “Once this pathogen attaches itself to the child, it will corrupt the parents, transforming them into Huturo mud creatures.”

  “What will it do to the children?”

  “Nothing. We need those souls to build the fortresses of Hell. But their parents? They’ll become Huturo, willing to fight to the death. We will use the Huturo to cleanse this world of the annoying humans before the final battle.”

  “The fight against Heaven?”

  “Obviously.”

  John shook the vile and looked at it again. “How do I deliver it?”

  “Bring in one of the youth.”

  John blinked, and there was a knock at the door. The door opened, and a thin boy dressed in a hospital gown walked in. As soon as the child saw Balam, his skin ripped from his body. The child immediately fell to the floor, screaming. As the skinless child lay squirming on the floor, Balam walked over to him and dropped the vile into his open mouth. The Demon waved his hand over the child, and the child’s jaw cracked, opening and repeatedly closing until the glass container was gone. Blood poured from his mouth, and the bloody child raised himself from the floor and ran out of the room. Balam turned to face John.

  “It is done. The virus is replicating to all the children beyond this door.”

  John looked down at the floor. “Is that all that is needed?”

  “The Huturo will cover the land very quickly. It is your job to ensure each soldier is strong and their transformation is permanent.”

  “How will I do this, my Lord?”

  “The old Witch Asura has been your servant since the beginning of your four earthly births. Use her dark powers to protect your army. The Huturo are weak after their transformation, and if you do not find a way to protect them during their fragile state, they will revert to their human forms.”

  John’s eyes widened. “There will be thousands of Huturo.”

  “Wrong—there will be millions in only a short period. You will need to devise a method of delivery.”

  John looked worried. “But what if I can’t find a way to deliver the elixir?”

  “Then you will receive a punishment worse than any pain you’ve ever experienced. Here, let me give you a taste.”

  Balam waved her hand, and John rose in the air.

  “My Lord! I believe you! I beg for your mercy!” pleaded John.

  Balam smiled and waved her hand again.

  “Ah, but this pain is necessary for your understanding. Failure is not an option.”

  A tiny hole appeared in John’s chest just above his heart. There was a loud thump, and John winced in agony as his heart exited his chest, blood splattering onto Balam’s face. As John watched his heart beating outside his body, he felt something pulling his back into the hole in his chest.

  “AAAAAHHH! NOOOOO!” screamed John.

  Soon, half his back was through the opening, cracking his ribs and pulling on muscles he never knew existed. John had never known such a level of excruciating agony, and his twisted facial expressions registered as much. He could feel the center of his spine folding in half, inching through the tiny hole in his body as slowly as possible for maximum impact on every nerve. John realized that Balam wanted him to understand what awaited on the other side of failure, to make him know that doing so was not an option. The torture of feeling every part of his existence pulled through the hole in his chest not only numbed his arms and legs, it deadened his acceptance of defeat.

  After trying to ignore the pain, the tortuous experience became too much for John to bear.

  “I understand, Lord. I will not fail you,” John said.

  Just as he was about to black out, John understood how Balam was punishing him—by turning his body inside out.

  Suddenly there was a flash of light, and John fell to the floor. As he lay gasping for air, Balam stood over him, smiling.

  “This is but a taste of what awaits your failure.”

  John touched his chest and was grateful that the hole was gone. He sloshed in the blood and entrails until he climbed to his knees beneath Balam.

  “I will not fail you, my Lord.”

  Balam walked to the nearest wall containing human intestines and extended her hand. Suddenly the intestines started throbbing, and thick black veins appeared in the flesh. A tiny bubble appeared at the ends of the intestines that quickly grew larger until small infant human heads appeared. Soon the babies were crying, thrashing about on the tail end of the intestines, like hungry animals. Balam extended her hand, and the monsters fell from the wall, slithered across the floor, shot underneath her robe, and started eating her flesh.

  “Do not fail us,” said Balam while she closed her eyes. Suddenly her robe fell, and she was gone.

  Arlo’s Parents

  Claire sat on the back porch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, staring out into the forest. After looking out into the snow-covered trees for a few moments, she quickly grabbed the telephone receiver from the table and placed it to her ear—there was only the dial tone. Claire hung up and immediately grabbed her cell phone. When she didn’t see any new messages or missed calls, Claire slammed the phone on the table in frustration.

  “Arlo, where the hell are you?” she whispered.

  Suddenly the backdoor opened behind her, and her husband walked out. Jamie looked at his wife’s face and sighed, flopping down in the chair beside her.

  “Babe, it’s late. When are you coming to bed? You know I have to work tomorrow.”

  Ignoring him, Claire grabbed the flashlight from the table and shined it out into the backyard.

  “I’m not sleeping yet. I need to be awake in case Arlo calls.”

  Jamie shoved his fists into his jeans, stretched his legs, and banged his feet together until icy mud fell off his sneakers.

  “The weatherman is saying we’re getting more snow tonight. I need to take that bag of ice melt out of the garage and spread it on the driveway before the snow gets here. Do you want to give me a hand with it?”

  Claire picked up the phone and rechecked the dial tone. “No, Jamie. I need to stay by the phone.”

  “There’s no need to worry. Arlo probably just went out to blow off some steam.”

  Claire looked at her husband in disbelief. “Blow off some steam?! For a whole two weeks?!”

  Jamie shook his head and looked away in frustration. “Let the cops do their jobs. They’ve only been searching for a couple of days.”

 

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