A Boy and His Corpse (7 page)

Calm down, Alan. Calm down
.

But it was hard to calm down with the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway toward you. Alan dashed into the nearest stall and closed the door behind him. He layered the seat with toilet paper and pulled down his pants before he sat down. He counted backward and took sharp (but quiet) breaths.

Ten Mississippi, nine Mississippi, eight Mississippi
…

The bathroom door slowly opened, and Alan saw brown dress shoes underneath the stall.

“I know you’re in here,” Mr. Steele said. Alan didn’t really know Mr. Steele since he taught the juniors.

“I’m sorry,” Alan said. “I didn’t—”

“You almost ran me over out there.”

Alan bared down as hard as he could and a giant, overbearing fart came out of him, followed by a plop in the toilet that splashed his butt cheeks.

“Sorry,” Alan said. “I didn’t want to crap myself.”

“Pheeeeew,” Mr. Steele said on the other side of the door. Alan imagined him swatting the air in front of his nose. “You weren’t kidding, kid. God. Okay, just watch it next time, okay? Good Lord! What did you eat?”

Mr. Steele rushed out of the bathroom and Alan let out a sigh and slumped back against the toilet. Shortly thereafter, the greenness left his line of vision and his heart slowed down.

What the hell was that?
Alan wondered as he slapped the roll of toilet paper beside him. As soon as he wiped up and washed his hands, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his dad’s number. Something was very wrong.

Lucifer

The Devil collapsed into a throne and brought a shaky hand to his forehead. What was he going to do about Hell?

              He just came back from a surreptitious tour, and found that Hell was more congested than ever. Souls were literally pressed to the ceiling in the first three circles, and they threatened to push into the remaining rings if something wasn’t done immediately. Hell was only so big, you see. It could only withstand so many souls!

It was times like these that he directed all hope toward Earth, as it was the only way he could get through the day without crying.

In his visions, he saw something he’d never seen before, and it was simultaneously exciting and terrifying. Alan made his pet corpse
feel
something. Herbert had never done anything like that before, as he simply pulled the souls from Hell and extinguished them when he placed them back in their bodies. This cleaned up space in Hell, one soul at a time. Back in his heyday, he could clear out 50 a day. But while Alan’s transference of his soul into a corpse presented startling new possibilities, it didn’t help Lucifer’s current situation in the slightest.

If only he could talk to the boy in person, his problems would be solved. But that was impossible, as that golden-haired freak, Michael, was constantly watching him from up high, waiting for him to return to Earth so he could strike him down with his flaming sword.

As Lucifer sulked, a drop of water splashed his nape. Oh, yeah. And then, there was that problem. Hell was melting.

He listened to the melodic drip, drip, dripping of water hitting his cavernous floor.

The Devil shifted in his seat and thought about the good old days when the overpopulation problem looked to be solved. Back then, Herbert could extract souls with ease.

Lucifer tightened his grip on the arms of his seat. He felt light-headed, anxious.

Picking Herbert was a mistake, but there was no need to dwell on the past now.

The United States was engaged in a war overseas at the time. With Hell throbbing with souls, Lucifer felt he had no other choice then to find a human conduit to remove souls from Hell. The daily demand for space was growing, and something had to be done.

Drawing inspiration from a tagline in the movie
Dawn of the Dead
, he set out
with a will to succeed, and a desire to free up some space. Lucifer would have to hurry and be careful as any death he suffered on Earth would be the end for him. That had been one of God’s punishments when He/She/It sent him to rule over the damned—if he ever came back to Earth, he would become one of Hell’s residents rather than its ruler. Worse yet, he would be in the lowest ring, which was Limbo, and Limbo was the absolute worst. You felt the weight of every occupant in Hell weigh down on you for all eternity. It was stifling.

He made himself invisible to the living and took on the form of an army general. He walked with his head down through the sand streets where an ambush had just occurred.

Lucifer had been lucky that day. If God had known how desperate he was, He/She/It would have made Michael keep a closer eye on him. But amidst the chaos that followed the ambush, Lucifer managed to arrive on Earth and sift through a crowd of screaming civilians unnoticed. He still remembered Herbert’s face when he came upon the man, who was on his back and staring up at the clouds. He was this close to pushing up cacti.

“Hello,” Lucifer had said to Herbert.

“Who…?” Herbert managed to say as he looked up at him. His intestines had spilled out of his stomach and his face was caked in sand. The Devil filled his hand with water, and brought it to Herbert’s mouth. The moribund soldier lapped it up like a dog.

“You can call me General,” Lucifer told him.

“What ha…?”

“Your Humvee blew up. An RPG ripped it to shreds. It also tore you up pretty badly.”

Herbert felt around for his intestines, which snaked around underneath him. He looked up with squinted eyes as if he couldn’t make sense of it all.

A peal of thunder struck and rain fell. Lucifer looked up to the clouds and then back down at Herbert. God knew he was here.

“Okay, we don’t have much time,” the Devil had said, and even now, as he sat in his throne room, he still remembered the horror he felt as he watched a familiar golden light appear from behind the darkening clouds. It was the Archangel Michael. Lucifer would know that glow anywhere. It had followed him on his way to Hell when he was first tossed out of Heaven for wanting to be like God to make sure he took up his place there.

The Devil had rushed through his spiel. He thought he would have more time.

“You’re dead, Herbert, and I’m here to bring you back.

“Where…are…?”

“Your squadmates are already in Hell, and you’ll be there, too, soon, if you don’t shut up and listen. I want to get you back on your feet, but there’s a catch.”

“Catch?”

“Yeah. I’m going to make you an offer, and if you choose to take it, then I’ll bring you back to life. But if you don’t, then you’re going to Hell.”

There was another flash of lightning, followed by a thunderous boom, and Lucifer looked over his shoulder. People screamed and ran for cover, leaving the corpses face down in the sand. The wind changed direction and Lucifer felt his anxiety grow. Pretty soon, these ten bodies would be buried in the sand, Herbert included if he didn’t take the deal.

“I’m…listening,” Herbert had said, and the Devil should have known right then and there that it wasn’t a good idea to offer this stranger a proposition. He had been too accepting. It was as if he had been expecting this all his life.

“I will give you the power to conjure up souls from Hell and bring dead people back to life,” Lucifer had said.

“How?”

“You will know how when the time arrives, but will you take the deal? Yes or no?”

Lightning struck, scorching a wide swath of the Earth only inches away from them and Lucifer jumped. A golden tornado swirled down from the Heavens and Lucifer knelt down and yelled at the soldier before him.

“Yes or no?” the Devil screamed again. He had come too far to go back now. “Yes or no!?”

“What…do I have to…do?”

Lucifer extended his trembling hand.

“Once you shake, the deal is done. That’s it. So shake.”

“LUCIFER!” Archangel Michael boomed.

“Come on, dammit! Hurry up and shake. Shake, you son of a bitch!
Shake
!”

Herbert extended his hand up, and Lucifer grabbed it. In that moment, he
felt
the presence of Michael behind him, and it made him wet himself. But he only felt it for a moment, as he had disappeared in a cloud of smoke and went back to Hell where Michael dared not go.

The Devil shivered and looked behind him as he did every time he thought of that day. He imagined what he would have seen if he had actually looked back at Michael’s face. Would he have seen the wrath of God there? He never—

CREEEEEEAK…KA-BOOOOOOOM!

The ground shook with a seismic blast. His throne tipped right over and Lucifer fell to the wet floor. Icicles dropped from the ceiling and shattered on the ground by his head. The Devil covered his horned head and felt fragments of ice pelt his body. He tried to cover himself more as the ground rocked beneath him.

Please, please, please stop
. He thought.
Please!

As if at his command, the shaking stopped. When Lucifer opened his eyes, he stared at his chamber door. He clutched his arms to his chest, as he knew what was coming next.

There was a hard, thunderous knock on his door with the sound of annoyed murmuring behind it.

“Lucifer! We know you’re in there! Let us in or we’re knocking down the door,” came a sharp voice. More voices behind the door took up a chant.

“
Let us in! Let us in! Let us in
!”

Lucifer continued to stare at the door from the floor. He clutched the leg of his seat, terrified of what lurked on the other side.

President Rosewater

              “Whatever happens next is all your fault,” the text message read on the President’s secret cell phone.

              President Rosewater rubbed his eyes.
Oh, God. What happened now?

             
When the calls and texts from Mr. Rovas came in an hour ago, he had chickened out and said he had a meeting with the President of Israel, but that was a lie. Communication between the two Presidents had been nonexistent since last they spoke.

After an hour of not returning Mr. Rovas’ texts and calls, he finally texted back: “Sorry. Busy meeting. What happened”

              The phone rang at once and Rosewater jumped out of his seat. As he stared at the phone, he rubbed his right eyebrow.

             
God, give me strength.
Rosewater clicked the talk button and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

              “Well, I hope you settled your differences with President Lampel since we’re certainly not going to have Herbert’s help now.”

              “Why? What happened?”

              “You said you were going to talk to him!”

              “Is Herbert still with you? Put him on the phone.”

              “It’s a little too late for that now,
Mr. President
. I put Herbert down.”

              President Rosewater’s stomach dropped. “You…You killed him?”

              “
Killed him
?” Mr. Rovas exclaimed. “God, no! I actually probably
should
have killed him after what I did to him. I mean I
figuratively
put him down. God. He’s not a dog.” 

“It’s just that…Well, the way you said it!”

“Never mind the way I said it. The point is, he was getting too big for his britches, so I knocked him down a peg.”

              “Knocked him down a peg how?”

              “With fire.”

              “
Fire?!
” The President exclaimed. He suddenly felt ill.

              “Yeah. I had to use the flamethrower.”

              “Why the hell do you have a flame—you know what, never mind.” The President rubbed his eyes. “How did he react to it?”

              “Doesn’t matter. What does matter though is that I have no idea where he is right now.”

              “What!?” The President asked, leaping out of his seat. “I thought you could track him.”

              “Well, we thought so, too, but he disappeared into a cloud of smoke and was gone. He’s never done that before. I can’t track him now.”

              Rosewater’s heart raced. He scanned the Oval Office for some kind of weapon, and found one, of sorts, in the flag pole in the corner. Maybe he could use that if Herbert just so happened to come after him.

              “What are we going to do, Jim, er, I mean, Mr. Rovas? Sorry.”

              “First of all, it’s TIM, not JIM. How many times do I have to tell you that,
Roger?
And second of all, the question is, what are
you
going to do about it? I tried getting you involved and you didn’t keep your promise. So this is on
you
now.”

              “You can’t leave me like this, Mr. Rovas. Please! What am I going to do? We
need
Herbert.”

              “Well, you should have thought of that before you didn’t pick up my calls.”

              “What about his son?” Rosewater asked frantically. “You said he’s been getting better.”

              “I’m not doing anything with Herbert still out there on the loose.”

“But you have to!”

“Hell, no. I’m not risking my life for you.”

              “Not for me, Mr. Rovas. For America! America needs this.”

              Mr. Rovas was silent for a moment and Rosewater thought he might have finally reached him. But the sigh he made after the silence soured Rosewater’s anticipation.

“Look, even if we wanted to, we
can’t
use Herbert’s son. He’s still not ready yet.”

              “But we
need
him ready. We at least have to try.”

              “Don’t you listen, Rosewater? I just told you, he’s
not ready
. It would be like putting a tank without treads on the battlefield. It’d be worthless.”

              “But we at least have to try,” Rosewater repeated. 

              “You know what? I’m tired and I’ve had enough of you for one day. Bye.”

              “Hey! Don’t you hang up on me!” Rosewater said, but all his anger was wasted as he heard a click and then a dial tone.

              “Hello?” Rosewater said into his phone. “
Hello
?”

              Nobody answered. He tossed the phone back into his desk so hard that he nearly shattered the screen. He rested his face on his desk and groaned.

             
There’s got to be another way. There just has to be.

             
There was another way, but it wasn’t a smart one. It didn’t matter. He had to take a chance.

He dialed the phone on his desk and waited a few seconds before anyone picked up.

“Hello, Mr. President,” the voice said on the other end.

              “Hello. Get Air Force One ready for me ASAP. I need to take a trip.”

Alan

              Alan rushed home from school and James followed him.

              “Dude, hold up,” James said. “Nobody’s around anymore. We can talk.”

              “Leave me alone,” Alan said. He was only a few steps away from his front door. “I need to see my dad.”

              “Wait, your dad’s home?” James asked. “But it’s Friday.”

              “I
know
it’s Friday, dumbass. Now go away.”

As Alan turned, James grabbed his shoulder from behind.

              “I said leave me alone!” Alan shouted. He pushed James back a few steps, and his friend almost tripped over his untied shoelaces. “This doesn’t concern you.”

              “Dude, what’s your problem? Half the class saw you turn green like the Incredible Hulk and you don’t even want to
talk
about it?”

              Alan felt the eyes of agents Heinzelman and Covington watching him from across the street and his stomach churned. He already had his dad to worry about. The last thing he needed was James to be murdered in cold blood because he was revealing too much in broad daylight.

              “Just leave me alone, okay?” Alan said. He rotated his shoulder as if the hand was still on it. “Go home and don’t say anything about what you saw today.”

              “Dude,” James said, but Alan was already at his front door, fishing for his keys. “I really think we should talk about this.”

              “There’s nothing to talk about,” Alan said. He found his key and unlocked the door. But before he could twist the knob, the door flew open. Standing there, in nothing but his blue bathrobe, was his father. Herbert’s lips twisted and his eyes bulged. He poked his neck out the door and saw James.

              “Get the hell out of here, Krompholz!” he barked.

Alan was pulled inside, and the door slammed behind him.

              “Dad, what happened today?” Alan asked, startled.

              Herbert grabbed both of Alan’s arms and squeezed. Alan squealed in pain. His arms still ached from yesterday’s push-ups.

              “Did anybody follow you here?” Herbert asked. “I saw Heinzelman and Covington parked outside. Was there anyone else?”

              “No. I didn’t see anyone. Dad, what’s wrong? What happened today?”

              Behind his dad, Alan saw Mort pop his head in from the kitchen. But something was off about him. As Alan tried to mentally connect with his pet corpse, it just didn’t
feel
right. The whole room actually didn’t feel right. He felt hot underneath the collar even though it wasn’t hot in the house. It was the same feeling he had when he was back at school, sitting on the toilet. It was like he was just about to be dropped into a boiling caldron or something. Alan stared down at the floor boards and for a minute, he was terrified that the ground might give out beneath him and there would be nothing but Hellfire below.

              As if he shared the same thought, his father looked him directly in the eyes and released him. Herbert held his head, staggered over to the couch and fell into it. He slumped back, and in the sunlight that peeked through the living room curtains, his hair looked almost completely white. Just yesterday, it was mostly black with just a few white hairs by his ears.

              “What the hell is going on, dad?” Alan asked again, rubbing his aching arms.

              “Nothing,” Herbert said, before shaking his head and sitting up. “Actually, everything’s wrong, boy. We need to talk.”

              Alan stared at Mort again and suddenly realized what was so “off” about him. His father was controlling him. For a moment, they had been sharing the same corpse, and it was awkward, like an uncomfortable hug or accidently brushing hands with a girl you liked.

“What happened to you today?” Alan asked. “I felt something at school.”

              “What did you feel?” Herbert asked. The rings underneath his eyes, along with the new shock of white hair, made him look like he aged ten years in a day.

              “I felt hot,” Alan told him, wiping his suddenly sweaty forehead. “Burning hot. I actually feel hot right now.”

              “Hot how?” Herbert asked, standing back up. “Tell me everything.”

              As soon as Alan looked in his father’s watery eyes, he understood. He saw Mr. Rovas shooting fire at him with a flame thrower. But there was something else, too. Something even more terrifying than Mr. Rovas. That “something else” was what truly terrified his father, and Alan felt it in the room with him.

              “Dad,” Alan said slowly as he backed away from him, “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me. Where did we get our powers from? And I mean, really. No BS this time. I want the truth.”

It was a question he had asked his father a few times in the past, but he never got more of a response than, “We’re just different, Alan, that’s all.” But the older Alan got, the more he feared the truth, and now he truly needed to know why they were the way they were.

Even though his body still felt uncomfortably hot, he shivered. The oppressive force in the room grew thicker. Pretty soon, he was afraid he’d be swallowed up by it completely.

The fear in his father’s face turned over to a menacing scowl. “There’s no telling when they’re coming to get us,” Herbert said suddenly. “You need to practice. Take control of Mort.”

Alan felt pops in his head like firecrackers going off and he was back in control of Mort again. The corpse’s arms were more fluid now, but his eyes were still just as frightened.

              “Who’s coming to get us, dad?” Alan asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

              Herbert’s hands and eyes glowed dark green. He raised his hands and the ottoman rose up from the carpet. He threw his hand forward and the ottoman flew right at Alan.

              “Defend yourself!” Herbert shouted.

              Alan crossed his arms in front of his face, but the ottoman bowled him over. When he opened his eyes from the floor, he saw dots floating before him.

              Herbert rushed over and grabbed Alan by the lapel. He lifted him off the ground with inhuman strength.

              “You need to concentrate, dammit,” Herbert shouted. “You saw what Mr. Rovas did to me. I know you did. You need to strengthen up just in case—”, he let the sentence die there. “Flex your brain muscles like I taught you. Use your instincts.”

              Mort ran over to Alan and stood before him.

              The room felt hotter than ever. Sweat seeped from all his pores.

             
His father ran behind the couch, and his eyes went green again. He grunted, gritted his teeth, and when he lifted his hands, the bottom of the couch began to shake.

              Alan’s eyes went wide. “No,” he said, backing up. Mort backed up in front of him. “Please, dad. No!”

              “You have…to get...stronger!”

The couch slowly levitated, and Alan watched in horror beyond Mort’s shoulder.

              “
Mr. Chandler
!” someone shouted from outside. It was followed by flat-palmed knocking. “
Mr. Chandler! Put the sofa down immediately or I’ll have to knock down the door
!”

              Was that… James? But it couldn’t be. How would he know what was going on inside?

              The sofa continued to float, and a green flame emanated all around Herbert. As he held his hands out, green flames formed in his open-palms as well.

              “Okay! That does it!” James said from outside. “You leave me no choice.”

There was a slam at the other end of the door, probably by a shoulder, and then another. And another! He did this two more times before bursting through the door.

              What happened next was too fast and bizarre for Alan to comprehend.

              James sprinted into the room, rolled underneath the floating couch and grabbed Hebert by the throat. The couch dropped and the green flames extinguished as if they had never been there in the first place. Herbert’s pupils rolled down from behind his eyelids and focused in on the face of the boy who had him around the throat.

              James let go of Herbert and pushed him to the floor.

              “Dammit, Herbert, why’d you have to go all crazy like that?”

Alan stared at his friend in disbelief.

“Barricade the doors,” James told him. They’re coming.”

              “Who’s coming?” Alan asked. “What the hell is going on?”

              “Your agents,” James said, turning back to Herbert. “I swear to God, if I don’t get my family back because of you, it’s gonna be your head.”

              Alan couldn’t take his eyes off of James, and Mort couldn’t, either.