A Boy and His Corpse (15 page)

              “We don’t even have any proxy corpses, do we? Are we just going in cold then? Have you even thought this out?”

              “We have your little pet up front as a proxy corpse. He’s sitting pretty up front with the pilot.”

             
You mean, YOUR pet
, Herbert thought, but then grimaced. His son was nowhere to be found in this shell that was talking to him.

              The imposter sauntered over to one of the windows and peered out. “You actually woke up at a good time. We’re almost there.”

              The cameraman rubbed his hands beneath the camera in his arms.

              “And what’s this goofball here for?” Herbert asked, pointing to the cameraman, whose smile dissipated at the slight.

              “This goofball is going to film it all and we’re going to post it online for all the world to see.”

              Herbert gasped and a cough came out. “Why?” He managed to say. “The Undead Militia has always been about secrecy. It can’t be exposed. Mr. Rovas never wanted that.”

              “Well, certain things aren’t meant to be kept secret forever. Get the parachutes ready, James.”

              “Where’s my wife?” Herbert asked frantically.
Ex-wife, Herbert. She’s your ex-wife now.

             
“We left her underground with Mr. Rovas.”

              Herbert’s eyes turned sour apple green and flames licked at his fingers.

              “No need to get upset,” the imposter said. “They’ll be fine. But we couldn’t take her with us, you know.”

              “Why are you doing this?”

              “I have my reasons. We’re jumping in five.”

He went back into the cockpit.

The Devil will get his due,
Herbert thought before he looked at James with endless scorn.
And so will you.

James

              One look at Herbert’s face, and James knew the man would make good on his promise to kill him if he didn’t convince him soon that he was playing the entity for a fool.

              “Put your parachutes on,” the entity said, handing them out.

The cameraman put his camera down and gleefully slipped on his pack. “I’ve never jumped out of a plane like this before,” he said, smiling through his bristly beard. “Where did you get a beast like this?”

              “It was hidden underground,” the entity said to everyone and no one at the same time. “Mr. Rovas thought of everything, it would seem. I just wish he had a taste for more modern aviation. This bucket of bolts feels like it’s falling apart.”

              The entity released his hold on Herbert and handed him a parachute.

              “I’m not going,” Herbert said.

              “Well, then if this body of your son gets blown to pieces, you’ll only have yourself to blame,” the entity said.

              The anger on Herbert’s face melted.

              “James,” the entity said. “Put the parachute on him.”

              “I’ll do it myself,” Herbert growled. “Give it here.”

              The entity pulled another parachute off the wall and slipped it on Mort’s back.

              As Herbert slipped on his parachute, he stared a hole in James. 

              “Are we jumping now or what?” the cameraman asked. 

              “Yeah, we’re jumping,” the entity said.

              James’ heart pounded and he tried to hide his trembling knees. The entity handed him a set of goggles and a helmet.

              “Put these on, too. It’s going to be pretty loud out there.”

              James put them on. He had a hard time maintaining his balance as the plane cut through some choppy clouds outside.

              The entity handed Herbert the helmet and goggles. Herbert snatched them.

              “When this is all over, I’m going to kill all of you,” Herbert snarled.

              The entity smiled and walked over to the door to the cockpit and pounded on it with the side of his fist. “We’re going out.”

              The door at the side of the plane opened and a tremendous, thunderous gust rushed in, blanketing out all other sounds. The cameraman’s smile widened.

              “See you at the bottom,” the entity shouted over the wind. “Herbert, you control Mort!”

              And out he went. James was sickened by the sight of his body disappearing into the void. He had learned how to bring a man to his knees with just one hand, but heights had always been his weakness.

              The cameraman made a running leap and it almost sounded like he went “Whee!” upon jumping.

              James watched Herbert next. This was his only time he would have to talk to him.

              “I—” James began but Herbert punched him right in the face, knocking him to the floor of the plane. He saw stars.

              “That was for lying to Alan!” He shouted before throwing his arm forward. Mort ambled toward the open hatch and walked right out the plane. Herbert followed.

              James held his jaw. He deserved that.

             
Gathering up his courage, he pushed his way to the edge of the plane and saw nothing but blue and white.

             
Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

             
He stepped out the plane and didn’t keep his promise. It was the strangest, most horrifying sensation having nothing beneath him but sky. He barked a soundless scream as he felt the harsh, cold air rip at his face. His heart was in his throat.

              The air was even louder than he imagined, and as he plummeted, he opened his eyes only to see colorful parachutes popping open beneath him. There were one, two, three, and…four.

              James flung his arm back but he had trouble finding the cords.

             
Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?!?!

             
He frantically felt about as the howling wind deafened him.

              At his intense speed, he shot down and flew past the others, flailing his arms and legs as if he were swimming against gravity. The blue soon turned to orange desert and the air tore at him completely.

             
I’m going to die. I’m going to die!

             
At that moment, something strange happened to his arm. It suddenly began to move on its own. No, somebody was guiding it.

              A green aura encircled his arm and it flew back. His index finger wrapped around a hook that he hadn’t felt before and it tugged. The pullback from the parachute was intense as the air reversed directions. He went from falling to soaring. His other arm now had a green aura around it, and it grabbed the handles attached to the parachute.

              He would be okay. He was safe.

              He let out a sigh of relief. The only question was, who had saved him? Was it Herbert or the entity?

              His descent slowed and his feet sank into the soft sand as he hit the ground. The parachute engulfed him.

              The heat from the sun-drenched sand penetrated through his clothing, burning his back and butt, but he was alive. He had made it!

              Behind him, the others landed, and the sound of the cameraman laughing was the first noise he heard as he struggled from underneath the parachute.

              “I thought you were a goner!” The cameraman shouted. “Thank God I got all that on film.”

Lorraine

              Lorraine continuously kicked Mr. Rovas’ supine body.

              “MMMMMM! MMMMMM! MMMMMM!” she said with each devastating blow to his ribs.

              On the seventh kick, the man rolled over and groaned.

              “Stop. Please stop,” he coughed with his eyes still closed. “I beg of you.”

              “MMMMMMNNNN!” Lorraine said again, delivering a kick into the fingers he used to block her foot.

              “OWW! Dammit!” he said, pushing himself away. “That really hurt!”

             
Not nearly enough if you’re still alive.

              “What happened?” he said, looking about.

              “Mmmmmnnn mmnnnn mnnnn mnnnn mnnnn,” Lorraine said, which roughly translated to, “Something came out of your mouth and went into Alan and now they’re gone!” 

              “Where is?—” he began, but his face collapsed before he could finish. “Oh, dear God!”

              He made a move for the stairs, but Lorraine tackled him before he could reach them. Once on top, she slapped him back and forth.

              He put up his hands to protect his face but did not fight back. “No, no, I deserve it,” he said. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I only wanted your son to finally be the necromancer I always knew he could be. I didn’t think the Devil—”

              “Mmmmm Mnnnnnn,” Lorraine said, putting her hands over her ears and clamping her eyes tight.

              “Okay, fine, you don’t want to hear the truth. I can’t fault you for that. It is pretty horrible. Where are they now?”

              Lorraine shrugged. “Mmuuummmm Mmmmmm.”

             
How the hell should I know?

             
“Come on,
think
woman. Did they tell you where they were going? After the De—” Lorraine gave him a dirty look and he measured his words. “While I was being held captive in my own body, I kept hearing ‘Afghanistan’ over and over again. Did…the presence say he was heading to Afghanistan?”

              Lorraine nodded vigorously.

              “Dear, God,” Mr. Rovas said, wriggling beneath Lorraine. “Get off of me. Get off! We have to stop them. I need to make a call.”

              Lorraine slid off of him and watched him pat his pockets. His eyebrows shot all the way up to his hair.

              “They took it!” he said. “Please tell me the Devil—” Lorraine gave him the dirty look again, but now that he was back on his feet, he persisted. “Yes, the Devil, Lorraine. We don’t have time for niceties now. Did the Devil call the President of Israel?”

              Lorraine nodded.

              “We have to stop them,” Mr. Rovas said, holding his forehead. “if they’re going to do what I think they’re going to do, then they’ll ruin everything.”

              Even if she could open her mouth, Lorraine didn’t know what to say. She wished she could run away, but where, and for what purpose?

              “Come,” he said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it away.

              “Mmmmm Mmmmm Mmmmm?”

             
Where are we going?

             
“We’re going to talk to the President. The American people simply cannot know about the Undead Militia’s existence. It would cause widespread panic. I’m going to need your help.”

Mr. Rovas

              Mr. Rovas held his ribs as they made their way to the stairs. The adrenaline that had flooded his system when he had first awoken was dribbling out of him like drool from a somnambulist’s mouth. His entire body ached and exhaustion made his legs and arms feel heavy.

             
I’m not going to make it. Why did I ever side with Lucifer? Why?

             
The meeting he had with the Devil had been abrupt and to the point. One moment, he sat watching TV and mulling over what he did to Herbert, and the next, the TV started flickering. He grabbed the remote and pressed half a dozen buttons. He was just about to reach for the phone to give the cable company a piece of his mind when the signal returned. But something about the broadcast was different. An eerie air—almost like a presence—filled the room.

He felt something behind him.

              He turned quickly, but saw nothing. He crossed his arms and sunk deeper into his sofa, upset with himself for allowing his mind to play tricks on him.