The God Zombie, page 8
“Please, Forneus! The fires are coming! I need to feed!”
But Forneus showed no mercy. The bear pressed his face into Arlo’s back, gouging his skin with its sharp incisors.
“I wish I could rid myself of your infernal racket, but alas, I cannot. My dreams speak of the approaching storm, and you have an important role to play.”
Suddenly the bear reached inside a nearby bush and pulled out a tiny fawn. The small deer cried as it tried to escape, but Forneus was too strong; he quickly broke the fawn’s neck, opened his mouth, and stuffed the dead animal inside. Forneus repeatedly chewed until the deer was nothing but mush in his mouth.
With Forneus distracted by eating, Arlo saw his opportunity to run. He jumped up and tried to run into the forest. As soon as he took his first step toward the forest, the bear grabbed Arlo, slammed him to the ground, and sat on his chest. Arlo’s eyes bulged in agony as the weight of the great beast smashed his organs, causing black sludge to fill his mouth.
“Where do you think you’re going, coward?” asked Forneus.
With deer blood and guts leaking from his full mouth, he threw back his head and laughed. Forneus lifted his broad paw and delivered a thunderous slap across Arlo’s face, opening his mouth.
“This should ease your whining,” said Forneus.
Forneus moved his bear face close to Arlo’s and let the bloody deer mush fall from his mouth. The disgusting mixture landed with a splat on Arlo’s face, and Arlo began hungrily sucking it into his mouth.
Forneus climbed off Arlo’s chest and sat on the ground to watch him. Like a rabid dog, Arlo ate everything as fast as he could, chewing and swallowing bits and pieces of animal flesh, brains, and bones until it was all gone. Gradually, the fires in the forest were all extinguished, and Arlo felt the burning sensation subside. He sat on the ground watching the bear, its fiery eyes lighting up the grass around them.
“Why am I here?” asked Arlo.
Forneus snorted in frustration, and liquid fire sprayed out of his nostrils, igniting the ground in front of him, causing the fur on his face to burn. He quickly slapped his face until the fire was gone.
“Your lack of patience is annoying,” he grumbled, stamping on the ground before him to put out the small fire.
Arlo sat patiently in silence, waiting for Forneus to speak. “As you’ve learned, the dead do not sleep, but we are all capable of visions. Some see flashes of their previous lives, but the majority of the undead see the nightmares of their living loved ones.”
“And these visions will happen to me?”
“Certainly, if your family is alive.”
“What did you see?”
“In the beginning, I saw my son’s nightmares—images of Hell so unsettling, they almost drove me insane. But after the Angel visited, I stopped seeing images of my son’s dreams. I think the Angel took pity on me and erased that burden.”
“What do you see now?”
“Now I have visions of the future. It is within these dreams that I saw you and Isadora.”
The bear rose from the ground and lumbered over to the stream. He looked around for a few moments and then dunked his head into the water, extracting a giant fish. With the fish flopping inside its mouth, Forneus returned to Arlo and plopped down in front of him. He threw back his head and pushed the fish into his mouth—after taking two bites, it was gone.
“The Red Soldiers are coming, and they will kill relentlessly until all human life is gone.”
“Red Soldiers? From Hell?”
“They belong to Balam the Demon, third in line for the throne of Hell.”
“Balam?”
“It was Balam who tortured me and killed my wife. But he is also the Demon behind the deaths of two teenagers—you and Isadora.”
“I don’t understand. My best friend, Manuel, murdered me.”
“Yes, that’s what they wanted you to believe. But Balam used your friend to get to you.”
“How is that possible? I don’t recall Manuel using Balam’s name.”
“The creatures of Hell are cunning, but a Demon is the most wicked. Balam didn’t approach your friend directly; he used a Mud Creature as an intermediary to hide his identity.”
“A Mud Creature?”
“The Mud Creatures worship Demons like teenagers. Killing, stealing, lying—they’ll do anything for a seat next to their masters in Hell. Mud Creatures haven’t earned their places in Hell’s domain, so they live as outcasts of evil, hiding in nightmares, terrorizing people and pushing them to do bad things, hoping a Demon notices them and takes them in.
Arlo’s eyes lit up. “John! John Mudd! He’s a Mud Creature!”
“He is. John caught the attention of Balam, and now Balam is using him as his own. The Demons of Hell have been stealing souls from Heaven using this technique for centuries.”
“And you learned all this through a vision?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve had thousands of visions and learned from each of them.”
Arlo was silent for a moment before speaking. “What does all this have to do with me?”
“In my vision, I see a young boy and girl standing atop a mountain of dead soldiers. I never see who they are because they are facing away, looking at two enormous headstones. The names on the stones are yours and Isadora’s.”
Arlo frowned. “Two headstones? That could mean anything! You brought us back to life because of a fucking dream?”
“All the visions have come to pass.”
Arlo stood and started walking away.
“Your belief is not required,” boomed Forneus. “Time reveals all.”
Arlo stopped and turned to face the bear.
“Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
The fire in the bear’s eyes grew brighter, and he raised himself on his hind legs. “Are you calling me a liar?”
But Arlo didn’t flinch. “I’m dead, Forneus, and so is my fear. I’m not afraid of you.”
The bear opened his mouth and roared at Arlo, but the boy didn’t move.
“Maybe an attack from Hell is coming, but that isn’t the only reason you raised me from the dead. You owe Heaven a lot of years, don’t you?”
The bear sprinted to a nearby tree and angrily swiped at it with his sharp claws, cutting it in half.
“You brought me here because I’m your one chance at erasing those years. How many souls would be spared by defeating Hell’s Army? Thousands?”
The fire in the bear’s eyes dimmed. Forneus flopped on the ground and sighed. “Millions,” Forneus admitted.
“You want me to help you get to your wife in Heaven,” said Arlo.
Arlo stood staring at the bear—it looked weak and defeated, like no energy was left.
“It’s true. There isn’t a day I don’t mourn my wife and son. Sometimes when I’m walking in the forest, I catch her scent on a breeze, and I’m depressed for months. You don’t know what it’s like.”
Arlo walked over to the bear and sat down. “Look, I understand your pain. But peace in death was mine, and you had no right to bring me into this kind of life.”
The bear inhaled, and a deep moan escaped his throat. Arlo turned away to stare at the creek—listening in silence as the mighty beast became a shrunken ball of fragility, sobbing in pain.
After listening to the great beast’s cries in silence, Arlo rose to his feet and started walking back to the building. Just as he entered the forest, he heard Forneus’s voice in his head.
“My reasons may be selfish, but there is something else you need to consider. The Red Army will be here soon, and because of my deeds, you now have a chance to save the people you love from Hell’s wrath. That is a gift that you cannot afford to squander on resentment. Hell is coming, and whomever you love will soon be in their sights.”
The words hit their intended target and caused Arlo to pause. After thinking about Forneus’s words, Arlo turned toward the city. As he began the long trek through the woods to visit his mother, Arlo didn’t notice Isadora kneeling on the ground. She was feasting on the brains of a deer and saw him stumble past. After taking a final bite of deer brains, Isadora followed Arlo through the woods.
The Security Guard Who Got Away Pt. 1
Bob peered nervously out of the blinds at the dark street. After watching the row of cars for several moments, he turned his attention to his neighbors’ yards. Bob scrutinized each yard, searching for anything that looked out of the ordinary. He saw that his neighbor, Daniel, had left his sprinkler running and was flooding his yard. The Powells, an elderly couple usually preoccupied with what other neighbors did, had spilled their garbage can in their driveway and hadn’t cleaned it up. But beyond those two discrepancies, the other houses appeared normal.
Something moved out of the corner of Bob’s eye, and he quickly released the blinds and melted away into the room’s darkness. He slowly grabbed his handgun from the table and held it by his side, waiting for someone—or something—to breach the window. Barely allowing a breath to escape, he remained in the dark, shaking, waiting, preparing for the worst. But nothing came.
Finally, after five minutes of silence, his curiosity got the best of him, and he opened the shades to look out again. Just as he did, a Siberian Husky ran across the lawn, carrying a rubber ball in its mouth. The animal froze for a moment and cast a knowing glance in Bob’s direction before trotting around the house and disappearing into the night. Feeling relieved, Bob let go of the blinds and sat down in his recliner. He grabbed a fresh pack of cigarettes from the open box, twisted off the plastic, and popped a smoke into his mouth.
“I’m probably imagining things,” Bob whispered. But inside, he knew he had every right to be afraid. What Bob experienced at his job a week ago was his worst nightmare realized. Bob tried to think of other things, but his mind always returned to the helicopter tarmac and the strange creatures he saw emerge from that helicopter. Bob couldn’t reconcile those wicked things with reality—he’d tried continuously, failing every time he looked for a reasonable explanation. But the monsters weren’t the most frightening aspect of that night.
“The children,” Bob whispered, taking a drag on his cigarette.
He’d never shot anyone before, let alone a child. But they’d attacked him like wild animals, screaming, barking, and growling. Bob had no choice but to shoot them to escape. By the time he made it to the hospital exit, Bob had lost count of how many he had killed. But still, Bob kept firing, emptying his weapon at anything that came at him. He’d recognized some of the boys; some he’d seen in the grocery store, while others were patients he’d interacted with on his shift. But they were all different, their insides hollowed out, replaced with something from Hell.
Bob took his final drag on the cigarette and realized it was gone. He stuffed the butt into the overflowing ashtray and reached for another.
“We’re all fucking dead,” Bob whispered as he lit another cigarette. Just as he was about to look out the blinds again, the door opened, and his wife walked in. Bob dropped the cigarette, grabbed the gun from the table, and pointed it at her.
“I was thinking about taking Jennifer to the . . .”
Debra saw her husband pointing the weapon at her and dropped the tray on the floor. “Bob, no!” she screamed.
Bob lowered the weapon and shook his head. “Jesus, Deb! I told you to knock! I could’ve shot you!”
Her heart racing, Debra turned on the light and cleaned up the mess.
“Turn off the fucking light! They might see us!” yelled Bob.
Debra ignored Bob and continued picking up the food.
“Goddamn it, Bob. I’ve had it! We’re going to my mother’s house when Jennifer comes home.”
Bob stormed over and turned off the light. “You’re not taking Jennifer anywhere!”
Debra started crying. “Look at you, Bob! You haven’t been to work in days, and you’re not eating or sleeping. Now you’re stopping us from leaving—it isn’t healthy!”
“I knew you didn’t believe me!”
“I do! I mean . . . I want to believe you, but how can I when you’re acting so crazy?”
“I know what I saw!”
“Then why hasn’t your job called? Why hasn’t there been any hint of it on the news? Jennifer went to school multiple days and returned home without a scratch. She spent the night at her friend’s house and is on her way home now. Meanwhile, you’re locked away in this room, acting like a complete psycho. Maybe we need to get you some help.”
“Jesus Christ, not that shit again.”
“I’m telling you, Bob, something’s wrong.”
Bob cocked his weapon and looked outside. “Something’s wrong? You’re goddamned right there is.”
Debra left the room and slammed the door behind her while Bob stared out the window, talking to himself. “We can’t hole up here much longer. We’ve got to get out of here soon.”
Suddenly the doorbell sounded, and Bob heard voices.
“Fuck!” said Bob. “She didn’t pay attention to a fucking thing I’ve said!”
Holding the handgun, Bob opened the bedroom door, peeked out, and then ran down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he saw his daughter standing at the bottom, holding an overnight bag.
“Hi, Dad!” said Jennifer.
Bob quickly tucked the handgun into the back of his waist. “Hey, Kiddo! Did you spend the night somewhere?”
“Mom didn’t tell you? I stayed at Julie’s. It was her birthday, and we had so much studying to do. Coming home didn’t make sense, so Mom packed a bag for me and brought it to the school.”
“Did she?” Bob frowned disapprovingly at Debra.
“Don’t be mad at Mom, Dad. She just wanted to get back to our routine. How are you feeling? Better?”
“A little.”
“Good. Well, I’m off to bed. I have a big day tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Jennifer kissed both her parents, grabbed her bag, and started walking upstairs to her room. Before she reached the top of the stairs, both parents shot worried looks at one another before turning away—they both felt sick and could barely contain the urge to vomit. Debra took off running to the bathroom while Bob sprinted to the kitchen sink. After emptying the contents of his stomach, he stared at himself through the window's reflection; his face was shiny with sweat, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Nice way to use the kid to get to us, you fucker!” he cursed.
Bob took the gun out of his pants and placed the muzzle against his temple.
“There’s no way you’re turning me into one of those things,” he whispered.
After thinking for a moment, Bob lowered the weapon, tucked it back into the back of his pants, and splashed water on his face. It occurred to Bob that killing himself wasn’t the best decision. Who would protect his family from the monsters if he were gone? Bob vomited again, but this time there was blood in the sink. After wiping his mouth, he stood listening—he could hear Debra throwing up in the other room. Bob walked to the bottom of the stairs and listened to see if his daughter was sick. But after listening for several minutes, he only heard Jennifer gossiping on her cell phone.
Soon Debra emerged from the bathroom. Her skin was gray, and her eyes looked sunken in her head. She walked past Bob and started climbing the stairs. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to bed.”
Bob retched, and Debra turned to look down at him.
“You’d better come to bed too, Bob. It must be some bug going around.”
Bob nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll be up in a minute, babe. Just let me clean up this mess.”
As soon as Debra disappeared, Bob took his gun out and cocked it. He knew he had to kill his wife and daughter before taking his own life.
The Security Guard Who Got Away Pt.2
Jennifer sat up suddenly and turned on the lamp next to her bed. Her bed was vibrating, and she didn’t know why.
“Is it an earthquake?” she asked, watching the water in her fish tank move slightly.
Jennifer climbed out of bed and ran to the window—none of the car alarms were going off, and the other houses were dark. Feeling relieved, she climbed back into bed. After a few moments, she looked at her fish tank again and saw that the water was still.
“It’s probably just my imagination.”
Jennifer pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes.
Suddenly something heavy crashed against her bedroom wall, making the water splash out of her fish tank onto the floor.
“Mom!” she yelled.
A more forceful thump sounded, cracking the wall down the middle and making the bookcase fall to the floor.
Jennifer jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway.
“Mom! Dad!” she screamed.
But her parents didn’t respond. Jennifer ran to the end of the hallway and grabbed her parents’ bedroom door handle.
“AHHHHHH!” Jennifer screamed.
The doorknob was so hot, it burned her hand. Jennifer used her t-shirt and grabbed the handle again. After struggling, the door finally opened.
The room was so hot, Jennifer had to step back; the windows were foggy, and the wallpaper was bubbling. Although the lights were off, a strange red glow lit the room.
“Oh my God,” whispered Jennifer.
The room was a mess. Jennifer’s parents’ bed lay destroyed, a pile of unrecognizable kindling and fabric scattered about the room. Her eyes moved across the floor and fell on two items—her mother’s bloody, shredded bra and her father’s partially melted gun, lying next to the wall. Jennifer noticed a dripping sound and looked at the wall adjacent to her room; half out of the wall was a human torso, dripping blood on her parents’ dresser, while another torso lay nearby with intestines spilling out.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” cried Jennifer.
