Rise of the Beast (33 page)

The demon had declared that this was Satan’s ultimate masterpiece of engineering when it came to the dispensing of pain in all of its forms. He went into great detail about it. So many horrible scenarios could be played out within this ghastly room. And the methods of her torment were totally random. There were no demons at the controls of this insidious device of torture, no master torturer at the helm of this ship of pain. No, she was far too minor a player in the game to warrant such attention. This was a totally automated operation. This chamber sat in the midst of a volcanically active region in the depths of Hell. The actions of this device were governed by the subtle shifting of heat in the rocks below and the ever-changing route of volcanic gases through its several hundred yards of piping. He must have ranted on for ten minutes before leaving her to her fate. She remembered hearing the dead thud as that massive door shut, hearing the heavy deadbolts slide into place and lock. Then, amidst the hissing of gas, it had begun.

Who was she that she had been relegated to this place? A fate such as this belonged to some human monster, a brutal mass murderer or a sadistic serial killer. She was just a Chicago real estate agent, a struggling mother who had been forced to raise a daughter on her own following the death of her husband in the Vietnam War. What could she possibly have done to deserve this?

No, she hadn’t been religious. But as far as she was concerned, God had abandoned her, not the other way around. But that wasn’t His viewpoint at her judgment, was it? She had ignored Christ’s plan of salvation, a salvation He had paid for on the cross. It would have been so simple to have avoided all of this, but she hadn’t. She had been condemned to Hell, and Satan, in turn, had sentenced her to this place. What right did he have to do that? The power to do it, that’s what gave him the right. Satan claimed that she would come to know untold suffering, knowing not what form it would take from ordeal to ordeal.

In the years since then, she had discovered firsthand the truth of his words. The wrist and ankle restraints she wore were all bolted to sliding metal plates that were in turn mounted to worm gears that allowed them to extend outward, literally ripping her arms and legs from their sockets. All it took was for the volcanic gases to be directed into the right set of pipes, into the proper
turbines. And that was one of the milder forms of pain she had experienced on this nightmarish table. Another set of gears and rods allowed this table to fold upward in the middle, literally breaking her back in the process. She had been electrocuted for hours when the turbines spun the generator. The table had been raised to the ceiling, causing her to be slowly impaled by the multitude of spikelike stalactites. She’d been immersed in the scalding liquid metal below her and left to cook for but a few minutes, a process that burned the flesh from her bones and reduced her to little more than a living, feeling human skeleton. Yet no matter how desecrated, her body always reconstituted, ready for the next round of torments.

Apparently, the demons had great faith in the reliability of this device; they rarely checked up on her. The door above her did have a metal window of sorts. From time to time, there would come a clicking of the bolt, following which it was shoved to the side. A demon would briefly look in on her, apparently to confirm that this poor woman’s torments were proceeding as the master intended. Then it would be shut once more and her total seclusion would continue. The whole process might last ten or twenty seconds at most. They had no real interest in her. Her tragedy continued to play out before no one, serving no purpose.

Debbie’s mind returned to the present. She had come to the end of a healing cycle, a particularly long one. Her body had been fully restored for over an hour. During that time, her only torments had been in the form of the heat and her eternal burning thirst. But the sound of venting vapors and turning gears told her that her respite was over. Volcanic gas was flowing through the pipes once more.

There was a slight jolt as the table began to slowly rise upon its pneumatic cylinders, the heated gas within them expanded in response to the presence of the hot liquid metal below her.

“Oh God, no,” gasped Debbie, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper.

The table was rising, and she knew where she was going. She had made this journey so many times. She gazed toward the wall above her, about halfway between the ceiling and the floor. Here, mounted from the stone and protruding from its depths, on all sides, were a series of large industrial sized drills, probes, and pneumatic cylinders, each with its own fiendish purpose. The demon had named them all, the router, the rib smasher, the spit, and the pear, just to name a few. They could do such unspeakable things to her. They were among the worst torments that the chamber had to offer.

She would have wept, if her body had contained enough moisture for her tear ducts to flow, or cried out, had her throat not been so dry. All the while the table rose amidst a cloud of venting dust and sulfurous gas.

A sudden jolt reverberated through the table as it came to an abrupt halt. To her left and right, three large drills, better than an inch in diameter, had emerged from shafts in the wall. With their large and menacing bladed tips spinning in unison, they moved toward her flanks. She knew this scenario only too well; these bits would drill into her bare sides, into her lungs, kidneys, and other vital organs. Once there, their tips would expand, literally routing her out, reducing those organs to mush, even as they dripped acid into the newly formed slurry. It was an excruciating ordeal that only an immortal could truly appreciate.

Yet even as the blades telescoped toward her, there was noise from beyond the door. The demons were back. It had been a very long time since she had seen them. There was a clicking of a bolt and the opening of the shutter over the window. Someone was looking in on her.

“We’ve found her,” said a voice from beyond the door.

It was a familiar voice, yet one she hadn’t heard in a long time. She gazed toward the window, into the face of a man, not a demon.

“Come on, we’ve got to get her out of there right now!” There was a sense of urgency in the voice, even as she felt the pull on her arms and legs. Her shackles were beginning to stretch her out. In a few minutes her arms and legs would be pulled from their sockets, rendering her body totally motionless for the drills.

“I’m working as fast as I can, sir,” came the somewhat muffled reply.

There was a sound of flapping wings as a series of small flying creatures swept through the window and into the chamber. They looked like large locusts. Circling her for a few seconds, they descended upon her restraints.

There was a flurry of sparks as the creatures went to work on the manacles about her ankles and wrists. At about the same time, there was a glow at the edge of the door.

“Come on, hurry!” said the voice. “Hold on, Debbie. We’ll get you out of there.”

Her name. It had been years since she had heard her name.

The shackles were growing hot. The one about her left wrist burst open, freeing her arm, which had been stretched to nearly its limit. She held her trembling hand before her, touched her face. It had been a very long time since she had last done that. She looked to her left to discover that the tiny creatures had literally eaten their way through the metal of her shackle. They were like nothing she had ever seen. They were neither birds nor insects. They were about as large as her fist, with elongated tan bodies covered with fur. At the end of the body was a sort of nasty looking barbed stinger half an inch long. Each creature had six legs, and two pairs of wings, not unlike a dragonfly, though the wings had the appearance of gossamer. Yet their faces had an aspect that made them look almost human. Right now, those faces were covered with shavings of metal. Several of the creatures were cleaning themselves with their front legs, which looked almost like hands, with five digits on their ends. One moved toward Debbie, looking directly into her eyes. Its expression seemed to hold a sense of sympathy about it, not frightening at all.

“Thank you,” said Debbie, in a low hoarse voice.

She was surprised when the creature nodded and smiled. Had it understood her?

A second later, the shackle holding her right ankle in place gave way. Yet, Debbie’s situation remained grim. The six whirling blades were encroaching upon her from both sides, and it was taking too long for her rescuers to free her from her restraints. Soon they would be drilling into her sides, between her ribs. Several of the creatures apparently perceived the danger and attacked the shafts of the blades. However, they couldn’t manage to sink their sharp teeth into the spinning cylinders. They were thrown from them; yet they tried again and again.

The insidious drills were but inches from her flesh when Debbie’s right wrist restraint was sliced open. She tried to rise to a sitting position, out of the path of the drills, but had not the strength.

A second later, the door burst open to reveal a group of men in military attire. There was a flash as the shafts of the drills approaching her from both sides were violently sliced in two by a brilliant beam of light. The tips plunged into the growing pool of glowing liquid metal below even as a stream of acid poured from the severed shafts, producing a toxic cloud of steam as they hit the
metal. A small spray of acid even reached the altar, running across it, caressing Debbie’s side with its burning chemical sting. She winced in pain, but still lacked the strength to rise.

The shackle restraining her left ankle gave way, and she felt a shaking of the altar as the soldier she had seen from the window jumped onto the cruel metal slab and cautiously picked her up in his arms.

“I’ve got you, Debbie,” he said in a soft, kind voice. “I’ll never let you go again.”

Debbie looked into this kind face. For the first time in many years, tears came to her eyes; it was the face of her husband. “Kurt?” she whispered.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirmed. “I’m so sorry that your knight in shining armor has taken so long to rescue you. I’m so sorry.”

The toxic cloud around them was growing thicker. It was time to go.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go!” said another man at the door. “Jump, we’ll catch you.”

There was an instant of flight. Then Debbie and Kurt were in the hallway beyond. They were quickly followed by the mysterious flying creatures that had aided in her escape. The door was then closed behind them and, along with it, the world Debbie had known for so long. Debbie was amazed to find herself in the midst of five soldiers, four men and a woman, whose uniforms bore the insignia of the United States Marines. Debbie’s mind was reeling; it didn’t make sense. Battle-ready U.S. Marines in Hell: how could that possibly be? Her husband had once told her that the marines were prepared to travel to Hell and back on a moment’s notice if needs be. Maybe she should have taken his words literally.

“Very nice work, Kurt,” said the woman, glancing down at the digital watch in her hand. “We’re right on schedule.” Then she turned to Debbie. “Debbie, I’ve heard so many good things about you from Kurt. I’m very much looking forward to getting to know you better. I’m Bedillia Farnsworth, project counselor. It’s going to be all right. We’re going to get you out of here in just another minute. We’ll be taking you to a place where no one is ever going to hurt you again. The nightmare is over.”

“She’s right, Mrs. Bellows,” said a young marine with blond hair and freckles. “I’m Sean, Sean Martinson. The captain has told us so much about you. I’m
happy to finally meet you in person.

“So good to meet you, ma’am,” confirmed another.

Debbie didn’t respond. She just clung to her husband as best she could. She felt like she never wanted to let go. If this were a dream, she prayed that it would last forever.

Kurt pulled a canteen from his utility belt. “Here, Debbie, drink this. It will make you feel better.”

Water—in Hell? This just kept getting better and better. Debbie literally gulped down the water in large mouthfuls. It felt so good. It was indescribable. For untold years the only liquid that had flowed into her body was acid or hot liquid metal. She had been certain that she would not taste this sweet nectar again.

“Easy, my love,” said Kurt. “Not so fast. Your body isn’t used to it.”

Debbie looked up to see one of the flying creatures on her husband’s shoulder. It had a face that looked almost like that of a woman, complete with long brown hair. The creature returned her gaze and smiled. Kurt looked over at the creature for but a second.

“I know, Drannon, it’s time to get out of here.” Kurt scanned the others. “Do we have everyone?”

“The five of us and twenty-four of Abaddon’s children,” said Sean. “We’re ready to rumble.”

“Ready to pull out, sir?” asked another Marine.

“OK, open the portal,” said Kurt, putting the canteen away once more.

The Marine pulled what looked like a cloudy, white marble from his utility belt. Before them, the hallway was filled by glowing vapors and glistening stars. To Debbie it looked absolutely mystical. They advanced into them, followed by the small flying creatures. They vanished into the mists. The phenomenon illuminated the hallway for another few seconds before fading from view. The forever twilight environment highlighted by faint moans and muffled screams returned.

From the shadows a hundred feet further down the corridor, a dark figure emerged from his hiding place, his huge black bat-like wings towering over his
form. A slight smile came to his face as he turned. An oval-shaped portal of brightness appeared before him, and he entered it. It dissolved behind him.

For a moment, Debbie seemed to be traveling through wonderfully cool, blue mists. It was like heaven to her. Then she was passing through a ring of shimmering metal into the middle of a large, well-lit room with walls that appeared to be composed of polished rock. There were more people around her. Debbie looked into the faces of two dark-haired young women dressed in knee-length brown dresses. One appeared to be Hispanic, the other Asian.