Heaven Bent (7 page)

*****

 

We had to fight our way through the tunnels, but M.J. said it could have been worse. There were usually more troops stationed at Heavenless, but many had been sent off to deal with the aftermath of the bombing at the theater--which had been the whole idea behind it, of course.

So between the masked man's karate, M.J.'s dance fu, and my mix of Muay Thai, Krav Maga, Wing Chun, and Systema, we were able to get through the worst of it. We took some hits, I knew I'd be sore later, but nobody got shot or caught.

We emerged from the hole chewed in the dome by the masked man's maggots, gasping for breath in the cool night air.

As soon as we stepped outside, the masked man stuck fingers in his mouth and whistled. Seconds later, I heard thrashing from the brush, and a familiar roar. Thundercloud the giant, winged platypus burst from the thick foliage and waddled toward us on padded feet with claws like scimitars.

The masked man ran to her and heaved the mummy over her back. "Good girl, Thundercloud!" He patted her head, then grabbed hold of the brown fur on the back of her neck and pulled himself up after the mummy.

"Yay, Thundercloud!" M.J. ran up and kissed her on the tip of her big black bill. "My hero!" Then he mounted her behind the masked man.

I almost jumped aboard without saying anything, then caught myself and jogged back to pat Thundercloud's head. "I, uh...thanks," I told her. "You're a real sweetheart." Then I gave her a wink.

The glossy black eye on that side of her head watched me, unreadable as a marble.

"C'mon, Stag!" said the masked man. "We're outta time!"

I gave her one last pat. Just then, over the whine of the sirens, I heard snarling barks in the distance, like the cries of frenzied wolves on the trail of prey.

"Stag!" The masked man gestured impatiently.

The barks were getting closer. Chills rushed up my spine--and then adrenaline blazed through my bloodstream.

Leaping into action, I ran around Thundercloud, grabbed handfuls of her fur, and hoisted myself up behind M.J.

The second my butt hit her back, the masked man kicked, and her black wings started to flap. Instantly, we rose into the air.

I held on tight as Thundercloud climbed above the trees, leaving the frenzied barking behind. She carried us up alongside the black dome of Heavenless, then above it--and then she looped away from it, heading inland with great strokes of her leathery wings.

Soon, it was as if all the running and fighting had never happened. We soared lightly under the moon and stars, casting a rippling shadow over the jungle treetops far below. We flowed through the night like a streamer of cloud, the cool headwind caressing our cheeks.

*****

 

"Great work, Stag." The masked man, who was standing behind me, handed down a golden cup filled with dark red wine. "You really held your own back there."

"Thanks." I raised the cup. "You're not so bad yourself."

I was sitting by a campfire, deep in the jungle--miles from Heavenless. Thundercloud had landed here after our flight, smack in the middle of a rebel encampment operated by the Heaven Liberation Front.

Just then, M.J. strolled over, the gold buckles and epaulets on his military jacket gleaming in the firelight. "Good news," he said softly. "They say he's going to be all right."

"That's fantastic." The masked man filled another cup with wine but didn't offer it to M.J. Instead, he tipped it to his own lips and drank. "I wasn't sure he'd come out of it after hibernating for so long."

"They think he'll wake up sometime tomorrow." M.J. clapped his hands and spun around, then dropped to sit beside me on the same fireside log. "I can't wait to see him."

"So who is he?" I asked. "Who was it under all those bandages?"

"The one who started all this." The masked man gestured with his wine cup, sweeping it around to take in the encampment. "The one who kicked off the revolution."

M.J. giggled. "It figures."

"They froze him five years ago," said the masked man. "They thought it would stop the movement if they put him on ice."

"Which it didn't." M.J. giggled again. "The movement just kept growing and getting stronger."

"Strong enough to take back the founder." The masked man raised his cup in a toast, then tipped more wine into his mouth. "Plus lots more than that before we're done."

"Finally!" M.J. pumped his fist in the air and let out a whooping cheer. "We're gonna' take those heavenly tyrants and
beat
'em!"

I had a sip of wine and shook my head. "I still don't get it."

M.J. leaned forward and frowned at me. "What's not to get, Stag?"

"
All
of it." I spread my arms and sighed. "Why are you
fighting
if this is Heaven? I thought it was supposed to be
paradise
."

"You still think that after everything you've seen?" The masked man sat down beside me, opposite M.J. "If this is the real Heaven, would it have a place like
Heavenless
? Would it have
incinerators
for burning bodies?" The masked man smacked the palm of his hand against his chest. "Would there even be
bodies
to
burn
?"

I met his blue-eyed gaze through the eyeholes of his black mask. "Lillian said things here aren't always what they appear to be. She said some things in Heaven are just metaphors."

"Is that what she told you?" The blue eyes crinkled as he broke into a broad grin. "
Metaphors
?"

M.J. howled with laughter. "Oh, that's a good one! That's hilarious!"

"You
saw
that
bomb
bring down the theater." The masked man nodded emphatically. "Did that
look
like a
metaphor
to you?"

I shook my head. "There've been a
lot
of things that didn't look like metaphors since I got here." It was true. "And there've been a
lot
of things that didn't look like they belonged in Heaven."

The masked man leaned closer. "That's because there
aren't
any metaphors here." Still closer. "And whatever this place
is
, it sure isn't
Heaven
."

He held my gaze for a moment, dead serious. When I turned to M.J., his expression was the same. "He's telling the truth, Stag."

"I
know
what Heaven is," said the masked man. "I've believed in it all my
life
. And this isn't anything remotely
like
Heaven."

Frown deepening, I looked at each of them in turn. "So what
is
it, then? Hell? Purgatory?"

"Who knows?" said the masked man. "Who knows if we're even really
dead
?"

I gazed into the fire as his words sank in. What if he was right? What if, somehow, none of us were dead? It would explain a lot, wouldn't it? Like how guns and bombs and incinerators could exist and have an impact. Like how we could still have physical forms that could be hurt or killed.

But it raised other questions, too. "If we're not dead, then how did we get here? Who brought us here and why?"

"There's a lot we don't know," said the masked man. "But we can tell you what they
use
us for." He tossed another log on the fire, sending up a plume of sparks. "
Entertainment
.
Amusement
. We
perform
for them on demand. They treat us like
pets
, like their private troupe of singers, musicians, actors, writers, artists."

"Like their
slaves
." M.J.'s voice was an angry hiss. "They treat us like we're their
slaves
."

The masked man nodded and sipped his wine. "You haven't been here long enough to get the full picture yet. But you will."

"You'll be their bitch, too," said M.J. "Just like the rest of us. You'll see."

"Unless you join us." The masked man laid his hand on my arm. "Unless you help us overthrow the bastards and get to the bottom of all this."

Their eyes were on me. I could feel the pressure of their expectations crushing me where I sat.

I drained my cup and set it down in the dirt, then held my head in my hands. "I don't know," I said. "So much has
happened
. I don't know what to
think
. I don't know who to
believe
anymore."

We were all silent for a moment. Silent and still before the dancing, crackling flames.

Then, the masked man squeezed my arm. I turned to look in his direction.

"You want to know who to believe? Who to trust?" Reaching up, he lifted the mask from his head. "How 'bout me?"

For the first time, I got a look at his whole face. And my heart skipped a beat.

Because I recognized him. I'd never met him in my life, but I recognized his face instantly.

I'd never had many heroes, but he was one of them. A true blue star forged in Memphis, a rock 'n' roll god without compare--the one and only King.

I should have known sooner from the sound of his voice, from the half of his face not concealed by the mask. From the swagger, the warmth, the charisma--I should have known.

I considered myself a star, but he was the star of stars. If I'd been looking for God in Heaven, he was the next best thing.

"El...El..." There was maybe one person who could make me stammer while trying to say his name...and he was it. "Mr. P-...Mr. Pres-..." And then I gave up and used my trademark shortcut. "
E.P.
Is it really
you
?"

"Why yes it is." He reached out and shook my hand. "And if you know who I am, then I guess you know you can believe me, don't you?"

I couldn't believe I was shaking his hand. I didn't want to let it go. "Yes, sir. I guess I do."

"That's fine." E.P. smiled warmly. "Then everything's gonna be all right, man."

Just as he said it, I heard a snarling bark from the jungle around us.

The three of us shot to our feet just as a giant pit bull--over six feet tall from his paws to the top of his head--leaped out of the brush on the other side of the fire.

Teeth bared, back hunched, he faced us through the flickering orange light. Drool oozed from his curled black lips as he growled at us, every muscle drawn tight, preparing to attack...

*****

 

Chapter
6

Powerful muscles rippled under the mottled gray and black fur of the giant pit bull. Teeth bared, ears peeled back, it crouched on the other side of the campfire, growling like a motorcycle getting ready to spring into action.

It was going to leap right through the campfire--no doubt about it. The creature's dark eyes were locked on us, its body aimed in our direction. Not that we'd have much chance of escape if we split up and ran; I could just imagine those long legs churning as the beast picked us off in quick succession.

Now I knew how it felt to be an antelope at the watering hole.

Staring at the giant dog, I froze. As good a fighter as I am thanks to my Hollywood martial arts training, I can be slow to react sometimes. Call it movie star lag syndrome: I keep waiting for the director to yell "Action."

At least my rebel friends didn't have that problem. Flashing forward, M.J. snatched a flaming branch from the fire and waved it at the animal. Meanwhile, E.P. jammed two fingers in his mouth and whistled, long and loud.

As M.J. shook the fiery branch, the pit bull flinched and let loose a fierce, snarling bark. The dog's eyes darted from the branch to M.J. to the rest of us and back, taking in everything, assessing the moment. It wouldn't be long until it made a move--a move toward the weaker flank, I was guessing. A move against me.

Not long ago, I wouldn't have been worried. After all, how could you be hurt in Heaven? Wasn't the dog some kind of metaphor, unable to truly harm anyone?

But now, after talking to E.P., I knew the danger I was in. Because wherever we were, he'd told me, we weren't in Heaven. And I believed him.

"Get lost!" M.J. danced two steps forward, jabbing the burning branch at the dog. "Beat it!"

Snarling, the animal crouched back from the flame. Every time its eyes shifted in my direction, M.J. worked the branch again, drawing its attention. But I got the distinct impression that time was running out.

Reaching into the pouch at his waist, E.P. pulled out a handful of glowing dust and threw it at the dog, coating its muzzle. The beast sneezed violently, and E.P. let loose another shrill whistle.

This time, he got results. As the dog launched into a full-blown sneezing fit, a dark form swooped down from above.

Thundercloud
.

With a fierce roar, the giant platypus plunged out of the sky and strafed the pit bull with her scimitar claws. The dog whipped its head up, trying to bite her as she flew past, but couldn't stop sneezing long enough to sink its fangs into her.

Thundercloud left deep, bloody gouges in the pit bull's hide and flapped off through the treetops for another run. Half-sneezing, half-snarling, the dog lashed around...and got a snootful of the blazing branch brandished by M.J.

Yowling in pain, the dog stumbled back. It ducked down, rolling its singed snout in the dirt, instinctively seeking relief.

But M.J. wouldn't let up. He jumped forward and smacked the flaming branch into the worst of the gouges on the dog's back. The pit bull yowled louder and thrashed wildly; M.J. barely danced out of the way in time.

Just then, Thundercloud rocketed down for another pass. This time, she dredged her claws deeper than ever through the beast's flesh, shredding the meat of its neck and back. The pit bull spun and snapped between sneezes but didn't come close to landing a fang on her.

That was when E.P. ran forward with another burning branch and drove it between the monstrosity's ribs. The pit bull released a shrieking whine and fell on its side, snapping the branch, then lurched off the ground and staggered away into the dark jungle.

Thundercloud dove down after it, carving her claws in another brutal slash that made the giant dog cry out again.

And then it was over.

Breathing hard though I hadn't been doing any of the heavy lifting, I slumped with relief. "Was that what was chasing us back at Heavenless? Was that what I heard howling when we took off?"

"Either pit bulls or giant German Shepherds," said E.P. "Unless the Controllers have developed a new breed."

"I
hate
what they do to animals." M.J. raised the burning branch, then hurled it away in disgust. "And I hate what they make
us
do to fight them off."

E.P. walked over and put an arm around M.J.'s shoulder...but when he spoke, he was talking to me. "They send 'em out to hunt and kill us. That's the closest one's ever gotten to camp, though."

"So they know where we are?" I looked around at the jungle for signs of more giant mutant dogs. "Do we have to move camp?"

"Not yet, man." E.P. shook his head. "That one's done for. If he does make it to a pack, well..." E.P. gave M.J.'s shoulder a squeeze. "...they'll eat 'im alive, the shape he's in. Sorry, man."

"That's all right." M.J. wiped a tear and shrugged. "It just gives me another reason to keep fighting."

"You and me both, brother." E.P. let go and walked over to stand in front of me, cracking his knuckles. "How 'bout you, Stag? Ready to fight the good fight?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sure." Considering it was E.P. doing the asking, there could be no other answer. When it came to lifelong heroes, the King was at the top of my list.

He stepped closer and clamped a hand on my arm. "But are you a hundred percent, man?" He narrowed his eyes and stared deep into mine with piercing intensity. "You've gotta be in
all the way
to get the job done."

"Wait." I frowned. "What job are we talking about, exactly?"

"A
dirty
job." E.P.'s grip tightened. "The
dirtiest
. And
tough
...maybe the
toughest
in this whole
war
."

My frown deepened.

"Which is why you've gotta be a
hundred percent
," said E.P.

"But what exactly...?"

Suddenly, M.J. had hold of my other arm. He gazed at me with an intensity at least as strong as E.P.'s. "He's talking about
murder
, Stag. Cold-blooded
murder
."