A Boy and His Corpse (20 page)

And Alan was all that mattered now. Alan should always have been all that mattered to her. She knew that now.

“We’ll give you anything you want!” the translator said. “Money, oil, gold! You name it.”

“All we want is justice,” the Devil said, and Lorraine winced. How lost inside his own body was Alan now, and where was Mort?

“
Nothing…you can do
,” Mr. Rovas had told her shortly before he died, but she refused to believe that. The question was when the Devil was done with him, how much of her son would be left? 

Mr. Rovas had given her the name Taylor Gint. The only one she found in the tri-state area was a cameraman for the local news. But what did he have to do with her son?

She dragged her nails into the armrest. A piece of her wished they never left underground. A bigger piece of her wished she had never met Herbert in the first place.

On the screen, the dictator and his translator were pinned against the back of the cave. The Devil turned toward the camera and smiled. The gap between her son’s front teeth could be seen around the entire world.

“After everything you’ve seen today, America, I’m sure you’re quite scared of all the prospects of what this day has brought to light. But I want you all to know that there is nothing to be afraid of. We mean you no harm. In fact, I think it’s about time that I revealed my true identity.”

“What’s all this,” Lorraine heard her husband—
Your ex-husband, Lorraine
—say in the background. The Devil turned to him and gave him a stern look. Herbert put his head down.

“I, my fellow Americans, am Jesus Christ.”

Lorraine’s mouth dropped past her chin and she started to shake all over.

“That’s right,” the Devil said, nodding toward everyone at home. “I have come back to Earth to fight for America!”

He paused and smiled, obviously waiting for those at home to accept that not only had their lord and savior come back to them, but that he came back to them in the body of a fat, black, teenager.

“And after Raad is gone,” he continued, “we are going to clean up the rest of the nations that are housing America’s enemies. And we’re going to do it with the undead. There will be no more sending America’s young men and women out to die as we’ll have an unlimited resource of dead soldiers. And then, nothing will be able to stop us, America. Nothing!”

He reached over to the side and pulled James to him. He wrapped his arm around him as if they were best friends. At one point, they probably were.

“And this right here, America, is James Krompholz. He doesn’t have any abilities of his own, but he came on this mission for a special purpose. Isn’t that right, James?”

The teen looked dumbfounded with his low-lidded eyes and slack jawed expression. When he realized he was meant to speak, he nodded emphatically.

              “Yes, that’s right,” James said.

              In the background, Lorraine saw Herbert slap his hand to his forehead.

              The Devil inside her son continued: “This young man right here is going to kill Armand Raad for us as a symbol of what a child of America can still do for his country. This is the turning point of forever, people. Will you do the honors, James?”

              James turned and stomped over to the dictator and his cowering aid.

              “No, no, noooooo!” Raad screamed before the footage cut off from the screen.

              The faces of two news anchors filled the screen.

              “We obviously can’t show you the rest of that footage,” said one anchor, his lips white and his eyes glassed over.

The other anchor smiled from ear to ear.

“The Lord is risen, Hallelujah!” he screamed, flipping the papers on his desk and shouting to the ceiling.

              Lorraine slumped back in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

              What did all this mean for her son’s future now? She had to talk to Taylor Gint, whoever he was. He was her last and only hope.

Archangel Michael

Archangel Michael paced back and forth on the cloud with his hands clasped beneath his wings. His sword and shield were placed to the side, ready to be equipped at a moment’s notice. God, who floated before him, just had to give the word.

But God didn’t, and Michael couldn’t question God. That was a sin.

So he hummed the song, “American Idiot” by Green Day and stared down at his sandals. God, who looked like aurora borealis, was actually the one who broke the silence. When He/She/It talked, the colors flashed.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. “I know we can’t strike the boy down, but—” he stopped himself. His halo shimmered around his golden locks, and his wings shuddered.

God flashed again, this time blue and green.

“It’s just—” Michael balled up his fists, “Lucifer’s blasphemy, claiming that he’s you. I—I—I’m just having a hard time with this, my Lord.” His flaming sword blazed violently beside his shield.

Michael felt his brothers, Gabriel, Jegudiel, and Raphael watching on from the distance. Even this far away, he heard them praying for him. He was close to being no better than Lucifer by questioning God’s decisions to let Alan Chandler live, as an angel could not kill a human being, no matter the circumstances. That was Heaven’s law.

As long as his brother, Lucifer, lived inside Alan, the Devil was safe. Not even a geographical event like an earthquake or flood could be performed unless God willed it. So Michael was left to pacing. Ever since Lucifer snuck underneath his radar and leapt inside Mr. Rovas, he felt like he was going to explode. And now THIS happened? Lucifer actually had the gall to say he was the Lord, Jesus Christ? If people actually believed him, then who knew what this would spell for faith and religion as a whole?

God shimmered and turned purple and red, and Michael stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, what?” Michael asked. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I don’t quite understand.”

God flashed the color again and Michael squinted.

“But what does
she
have to do with all this?”

There was another flash from God and then, the understanding set in. It seemed like a long shot, but he would have to take his Lord’s word.

“Yes, of course, my Lord. Of course.”

Michael stared down at the clouds. He would be ready when the time arose.

James

              A blood red sun hung near the horizon when James walked out the cave. He still saw the translator’s scared eyes in his head.

             
“Please,”
the boy had said. He got to his hands and knees as Armand Raad’s corpse lay beside him. “
I beg of you.
”

James closed his eyes and felt a single tear roll down his cheek. The boy shouldn’t have died. Not like that.

              Perhaps Herbert felt the same way, too. He hadn’t said a word since exiting the cave. The craggily frown on his face made his skin look like beef jerky.

              The Devil stepped out into the desert air with his arms outstretched and smiling. Three of the cameramen backpedaled in front of him with their cameras aimed at him, while the last cameraman knelt by the mouth of the cave and set up fireworks. He lit the fuses.

The Devil stopped and pointed toward the cameras. “You can believe in me, I am here.”

An assortment of screamers and firecrackers flashed and twirled behind him.

Bastard. This is all a game to him.

“Annnnnd cut,” the Devil said, and the cameramen put their cameras down and started clapping.

“We’re going to beat Super Bowl 44 with this stuff!” Taylor Gint said. “That whole Jesus bit was genius!”

“Wait,” Herbert said. He stormed over to Taylor Gint and spun him around.

Taylor Gint smiled, revealing the missing tooth at the side of his mouth.

“It’s Mr. Rovas, duh. How he got into your son’s body, I have no idea, but it doesn’t surprise me with some of the other things he’s shown me.”

James looked to Herbert, and then to the Devil. Herbert had a look in his eyes as if to say, “Careful.”

“Get that footage online ASAP,” the Devil said. “I’m sure they cut the footage before when James killed Raad.”

“Wait,
what
?” James exclaimed. Again, he saw the kid’s scared eyes in his head. He even felt the boy’s last breath in his hands.

“Surely no network would show you kill a man on live TV.”

James made a move, but Herbert blocked his path with his arm.

“It’s not worth it, boy,” Herbert grumbled.

“The hell, it isn’t. He made me kill that poor kid for nothing!”

“A casualty of war,” The Devil said simply. “It happens all the time.”

James felt heat against chest. He didn’t know if that was the fury in his heart or the fire in Herbert’s arm.

“We did what you asked,” Herbert said. “Now give me back my boy.”

The Devil closed his eyes and that smile of his seemed to be everywhere now. James even felt it behind his eyes.

“Herbert, Herbert, Herbert,” he said. “When are you going to learn not to trust me? Why would I give up this body, fat as it is, when the free world now thinks I’m Jesus Christ? I’m just getting started—”

It all happened in an instant. Herbert’s hand was fast, but the Devil’s was faster. A green blast shot from Alan’s fingers and Herbert went down, smoking. His mouth hung open and his eyes were clamped tight in pain.

“Check if he’s still breathing for me, will ya?” The Devil said. “I may still have some use for him yet if he doesn’t try something stupid like that again.”

James stared dumbfounded for a moment, but then, the anger rose again in his heart. “You made us a deal!” James screamed, pointing. “And you have to see them through.”

The Devil walked over and James got in his murderous stance.

Just try me, jerk off. I’ll die killing you.

The Devil must have caught his drift, as he threw his hand out. A wisp of green smoke flew from his fingers and a strong gust of wind punched James in the stomach. James staggered back until he fell on his butt.

With the obstruction gone, The Devil knelt down and put his ear to Herbert’s chest. He then nodded and smiled. “Okay. Crisis averted. He’s still breathing.”

James sprung up, feet first, like a ninja. “What about our deal?”

“You’re still talking to me about deals? You think I can’t read your heart? You’re still on his side.”

“And what if I am?” James asked. “I can’t even get within an inch of you to kill you.”

The Devil’s smile soured.

“You’re right. So it would probably behoove me if I just killed you and Herbert right now then.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Herbert’s first.”

He stood up and pointed his hand down at Herbert’s face. His hand flashed green and a ball of light formed around it.

James ran and did a jump kick. His form was perfect. Even Bruce Lee would have been proud. But he might as well have been jump kicking in amber, as time literally slowed down for him in mid-air.

The Devil tsked and threw his hand out to him. A single blast hit him center mass, and shook his body like an electric current.

James fell to his back, his skin burning and smoking. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Alan’s gap-toothed smile. 

“We’ll see if your attitude is better when you wake up.”

Alan

The second the words, “Jesus Christ,” fell from the Devil’s lips, Alan felt a sharp shove, like two strong hands, pushing him deeper into himself.

              Oh, God, he was falling!

             
Lucifeeeeer!

              The farther he fell, the darker it got until he saw nothing at all. He landed in a pool of something slick and greasy. Alan sloshed about it like a pig.

              “Lucifer!” He shouted, and an echo resounded around him. “Lucifer?”

              “He can’t hear you here,” a calm voice said, striding up to him. When Alan turned his head he saw a glowing figure materialize out of nothingness. It was a fairly young, slim man, who could be no older than thirty-five, and he had muttonchops that took up half his cheeks. His sharp eyes were milky brown. He held his hands behind his back and sported a faded set of tan army fatigues.