Read Redemption of the Dead Online
Authors: A.P. Fuchs
Redemption of the Dead
* * * *
REDEMPTION OF THE
DEAD
by
A.P. Fuchs
Published by
Coscom Entertainment at Smashwords.com
This book is
also available as a paperback at your favorite online retailer like
Amazon.com or through your local bookstore.
* * * *
The fiction in
this book is just that: fiction. Names, characters, places and
events either are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or
dead or living dead is purely coincidental.
Redemption of
the Dead
is Copyright © 2012 by Adam P.
Fuchs. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce in
whole or in part in any form or medium.
Published
by
Coscom Entertainment
Text set in
Garamond; eBook Edition
Second
Printing
Cover Art by Gary
McCluskey
Interior “Zombie Head” Art by A.P.
Fuchs
* * * *
For Keith Gouveia, fellow writer, editor,
but most importantly, best
friend.
* * * *
REDEMPTION OF THE
DEAD
* * * *
* * * *
Prologue
Completion
One year ago
, outside
of Time . . .
The demon Bethrez moved
quickly through the rocky tunnels of Hell, the news he had been
waiting for finally about to become a reality.
As he emerged into a cavern
at the end of a long corridor, he came to a sudden stop atop his
reptilian feet. His commander, Holgrack, stood before him, with
dark eyes the size of eggs and rough scaly skin that made even
Bethrez’s own appear smooth by comparison.
“Is it true?” Bethrez
asked.
Holgrack simply
nodded.
“Are you
certain?”
“I would not have summoned
you if it wasn’t. The master had called a meeting and I was in
attendance. The whisperings are true: all is ready.”
“And the
converter?”
“Come, this
way.”
Holgrack led Bethrez
through another long corridor lit by the ambient light from the
great lake that burned with fire beyond its walls. At the end of
the corridor, they turned left and emerged into a sunken room made
of stone. Toward the rear wall was an oblong frame carved out of
the ancient stone from the bed of the fiery lake itself. Along the
frame’s border was the master’s name in every known tongue, both
presently spoken and extinct, even in the languages only known to
those of the unseen realm. Written within the characters of the
master’s name was another phrase: “To merge, to change, to die, to
live in death.”
Bethrez asked, “And it
works?”
“You will soon see, my friend, but take pride in this
moment for what stands before you is the fruition of your
labors.”
“But it was you who brought
it to the council and was appointed overseer of this
project.”
“Though true, it was still
your idea, your genius. I foresee great exaltation for you should
this operate as you suggest.”
Bethrez inspected the
structure. “It seems properly put together. The last two had flaws,
even just in the characters written. One out of place mark and it
will not work as planned.” He gazed up at the frame.
“What is it?” Holgrack
asked.
“
Which chamber are we
in?”
“Cave
D-S-Seventeen-Lateral-J.”
Bethrez muttered the name
back to himself. “This is in the wrong location!”
“How dare you raise your
voice to me!”
“And how dare you and your
men once again go against my instruction.”
“You are in no position to
tell me what to do, underling.”
“I might not be, but I know
someone who is.” Bethrez pushed his way past Holgrack and headed
into the dank corridor beyond the room.
A sudden force knocked out
his legs from under him and he hit the stone ground, chin first.
Flipping over onto his back, he put his arm out to block Holgrack’s
fist as it came down on him, and instead was able to deliver a
swift blow of his own.
“Get off me!” Bethrez
shouted.
The shouts of other demons
a few passages over echoed throughout the corridor.
Holgrack removed his sword
and brought its jagged blade against Bethrez’s throat. He applied
so much pressure that Bethrez’s esophagus was collapsing against
his vertebrae.
With a grimace, Bethrez
lashed out with his claws and cleaved a chunk of flesh from
Holgrack’s face, tearing away scaly skin and sending a spray of
black blood into the air. It was enough of a distraction for him to
grab Holgrack’s wrist and push it and the blade away from his
neck.
He struck his commanding
officer again and got out from under him.
“I will kill you!” Holgrack
shouted.
Bethrez simply shook his
head. His commander has never been bright, but had been chosen to
lead after centuries of being one of the finest warriors in all of
Hell’s ranks. What Holgrack didn’t know was Bethrez was also highly
skilled, though it was something he never showed to his kin and
only unleashed on the battlefield when going up against those
blasted angels of Heaven.
Holgrack lunged into the
air, angled the blade, and brought it down into Bethrez’s shoulder.
Bethrez turned away, then swung back with a backhand to Holgrack’s
head.
“Fool,” Bethrez said. “You
just gave me your weapon.” He pulled the blade from his shoulder,
ripping out scaly flesh and gobs of stringy blood in the
process.
Holgrack moved in and
Bethrez feigned to bring the blade in from high up, then switched
hands and brought the blade from down and low, plunging it deep
into Holgrack’s chest. As Holgrack reached for the blade, Bethrez
swatted his commander’s hands away, removed the blade and jumped
over him. Once behind, he brought the blade down into Holgrack’s
skull. His commander dropped to his knees, then fell forward, the
blade still stuck in his head.
Holgrack’s fate was sealed.
Despite being immortal, his evil spirit would leave his scaly body
and be forever chained to the fiery lake, never to escape
again.
Bethrez spat on his
commander’s body then stormed down the corridor just as other
reptilians emerged from the tunnels.
“What have you done?” one
of them asked him.
“Go see for yourself,” he
said, and went off in search of Vingros, the very one Holgrack
answered to. “It must be tested. The portal must work.”
* * * *
1
Devil Rising
The Present . .
.
Sharp bits
of jagged glass pierced Joe’s lips and cheeks as the truck spun
upside down across the pavement. Billows of dust blew against his
skin like coarse sand, scratching across its surface. Eyes squeezed
shut, mouth the same, he could barely breathe through his nose,
each tiny breath a miniscule sip of dirty air. He shoved his hand
back against his mouth, trying to filter out the debris flying
around inside the cab. Tracy was somewhere in here with him. A
couple of times he felt her body knock against his as the howling
wind outside tossed the truck around like a beach ball.
Ear
piercing, nails-against-a-chalkboard screeches wracked Joe’s
hearing. It came from right beneath him, the cab’s roof scraping
across the cement as it slid along pavement.
He wanted to
call out Tracy’s name, but when he opened his mouth, a thick puff
of dust managed to get past his hand and dump into his mouth.
Scraping the filthy paste off his tongue, he spat it out as best he
could, most of it landing against the hand in front of his lips
only to get shoved back in his mouth again as the truck
moved.
The finely-tuned
ping-ping-ping
of
dusty debris raining against the truck’s hull grew louder as a huge
gust of wind blew the truck off its roof and back onto its side. It
rocked a couple of times before the sound diminished and the truck
finally stopped moving.
Coughing,
Joe slowly moved his hand away from his mouth, using the other to
brace himself against the steering wheel, his elbow caught by the
gearshift. Spitting, then swallowing gobs of mucky dust, he hacked
them back out, his stomach sick with pronounced nausea.
Coughing again, he finally managed to
bark out Tracy’s name.
No response.
“Tracy,” he
wheezed as his breath caught; he coughed out another gob of wet
dust. He blinked his eyes open. The entire interior of the cab was
coated in light brown at least half an inch thick. Beneath him, the
dust was even thicker—several inches—so much so that his leg, which
had gotten itself parallel to the front seat and hung down by the
passenger side, was covered in dust up to his ankle.
“Tracy,” he said again. Joe pushed against the steering
wheel and straightened himself as best he could before having to
adjust to get his elbow free from between the
gearshift and ashtray. Glancing over to the
passenger side, he saw her body upside down, her knees up against
the passenger seat, the rest of her torso hanging over onto the
cab’s floor. Her head was mostly covered in dust and gravel.
“Tracy!”
Joe
scrambled to lunge his body forward and get himself in a position
to pull her up. Able to get beside her and keep gravity’s pull at
bay by pressing his knee against the radio, he grabbed her by the
waist and pulled up and back. Her head was so far under the glove
box that he couldn’t hoist her any higher lest he risk smacking it
against the box’s underside and possibly complicating any injuries
she had sustained.