The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (39 page)

53 – Vengeful God

The Prime enjoyed the whirling hot tub jets
pounding against his kidneys. With the urgency of the job interview
over—again—he found himself in a state of total physical
relaxation. Mentally, he was close to joyful panic. All of his
plans were coming together. The prophecy was true. He would rule
the world.

He had started the job interview hours
before, when news came of Barnstable’s refusal of the preacher’s
ultimatum and Updike’s treasonous speech—a declaration of war.

His Operatives within the dead army had
radioed that Updike had called for a jihad. Absolute perfection!
Further, Reverend Able Stoneworthy was with the Captain—the Tower
Builder dead now. He had bullied Barnstable too much to hear that
news earlier. The minister’s whereabouts had been a question for
the last two days, and was an annoying reference in Vanguard’s
reports. Reappearing dead and in cahoots with traitors gave the
Prime authority to assume complete control of Archangel Tower.
Absolutely, and inarguably perfect!

Better yet, Operatives monitoring the other
arms of the undead army reported they were on the move. South and
southwest by many, many miles they presented big, slow targets.
Perfect! Perfect! Perfect! The Prime had just got off the phone
with General Topp. He had set the time for the first strike. An air
defense fighter would radio updated coordinates when required.

His Operatives from all quarters gave troop
strength of some three hundred thousand in the south with the bare
minimum of weaponry and mechanical support—and the majority of that
was of an old and undependable variety. Southwest of that was a
force twice that size with little in the way of heavy weaponry or
artillery. The northern army and closest was the best equipped but
it had not started moving yet.

Updike’s threat was empty—a zombie army up
against the most powerful fighting air force and army in the world?
The Prime was pleased. He would put on a show that would have his
enemies shaking.

And any Divine or Infernal Powers that
thought they could take over the world would see how far the Prime
was willing to go to see that they didn’t. Updike thought his
mission was of Divine origin, but there was still no sign that he
had any actual support from that quarter. The Prime had already
planned to question his captive about that after the job interview.
Updike’s army must be the first move in the bigger game.

That was all he needed to fill him with
explosions of happiness. Until today, he had been operating in the
dark in a pentagram drawn of blood. His Demon Ally and captive gave
him signs and riddles. Though he was pleased to see that his
intuition was proving correct, such extravagant risks were
difficult for him. Intuition had helped him to climb to the top,
but it was a terrifying way to maintain the position.

The Prime had revealed his backup plan to
Topp with some reluctance. Throwing his cards out there for a
lackey to see left him anxious. But he had a Demon watching the
General for signs of reluctance. Time. He needed time for the game
to unfold. And he had little patience. It was all too much, and he
was afraid that obsessing about it would micromanage it into the
ground.

To distract himself he had continued with the
job interview:

“
Do you have hot tubs in all the offices,
Prime
?” the pretty brunette joked, and crossed her legs. He
couldn’t believe it, but he was actually drooling. That’s throwing
her off.
Wait till she has a look at my
…

Her body floated a few feet away from him.
The round lumps of her buttocks protruded from the frothing water.
Even her death had not stemmed his passion. He and the Demon organ
had taken her three times since. He didn’t mind the oily feel of
her blood against his skin.

“
Get in the tub and I’ll pay you
well
,” he said and when she shook her head, he grabbed her legs
and pulled her screaming toward the water. Raping her with the
Demon organ was good; raping her with the Demon organ and his own
had been…
Heavenly
.

His mind played to the events at 232
Towerview Terrace. His Operatives had nothing new to report. He
tried to use his sated calm certainty to draw upon his intuitive
resources. The evidence at the crime scene suggested something big
had transpired there: unexplainable elements that encouraged the
Prime to suspect an Infernal or Divine link. He checked himself,
reined in his suspicions. The unknown still existed, after all. No
sense being paranoid. But events were happening too quickly for the
unexplained. An instinctive part of him knew that nothing was
happening by chance now. Damn Vanguard give me facts!

The Prime looked at the wall clock, saw that
18 hours remained until a demonstration of power would be dropped
on the southern army. The Prime made fists of his hands, punched
them whistling into the swirling red water then: Ka-boom! A
surprising tingle and heaviness returned to his groin. He looked at
the woman’s body.

Something nudged his knee. Over the pale hump
of his belly he saw that a jet of water had pushed her hand into
him—he imagined making a circle of the lifeless fingers and… The
Prime casually kicked her away.

He remembered the scene: at first her
terror—screaming. That got both of him harder. Down she went into
the tub and he was on her. Then she was screaming in pain. The
Prime knew that since he had joined the Demon in Union, that
something vital had changed about him. Not only had he been altered
physically, something changed inside. Because the Union had added a
second penis, it was easy to overlook the mental changes. But where
he liked dominating people before he loved killing them now.

Before the woman died he discovered that the
second penis behaved like a prehensile limb—impossible to control
as his dark passions were released. It tore at her insides like an
iron rake until something broke—answering his sexual grunts with a
fount of dark blood. Amazed at first, but sated, the Prime had
allowed her to slowly sink beneath the water, before resuming his
bath.

It was unfortunate because she was pretty.
And yet, who knew, after Blacktime she might be more open to his
desires? If he truly believed he could become a god, he had to
dismiss the sentimentality of ethics—he shouldn’t worry about loss
or beauty. As he watched his secretary’s body a weight throbbed
that needed release. He gasped—
I’m a monster
—tearing at his
lower lip with his teeth. The Prime reached for the corpse.
Perfect
!

54 – The Doctor’s Office

The doctor had a round head with very little
hair on it and an oval body. He wore a soiled tie and yellowed
dress shirt. His short thick legs protruded from black pants and
stained lab coat. He wore scuffed leather shoes. They stuck out to
the side of his desk at an uncomfortable angle. A tarnished
watchband played at the edge of his sleeve. He was lost in thought,
looking over a pile of papers as Dawn was shown in. He tapped a
pencil on the desk with thick dirty fingers.

“Scruples,” he whispered. “Scruples.”

The floor squeaked and he snapped out of his
personal reflection, turned his face to the door.

Dawn was terrified. Her experience with the
Principal left her wits scattered. Her new childcare worker, a tall
dead man named Tony, was a nice fellow but she was afraid to even
look at him. She didn’t want to accidentally involve him in
anything horrible like poor Frances. The dead man seemed unaware of
her feelings or any events surrounding her visit to the Principal
and simply announced her arrival in a lifeless voice. He handed her
a file and left.

She barely remembered the day, with her mind
still caught up with Frances. Dawn was not yet allowed into lessons
with the other kids, so she spent the time answering questionnaires
that were set out at a little desk by the Dormitory doors. Just as
the other kids were lining up for supper, Tony had walked up
and…

The Doctor took some time composing himself,
spending a good five minutes shuffling and then re-piling the stack
of papers and files on the desk in front of him. Throughout, his
eyes kept flicking over at her, enormous, blinking through thick
glasses. He wore a stethoscope around his neck that he played with
after pushing the files untidily away from him.

The walls behind him were covered with charts
and dark wooden bookcases. The paint that showed at intervals was a
murky cream color. Cracks ran from the corners of the room outward,
weaving their way behind furniture and displays.

Great sheets of painted plaster bulged, ready
to collapse onto the floor. There were other things on other
shelves, beakers and bottles, medical instruments of brass and
metal. Other things too, containers with pickled organs or animals
floating in each. And plastic things too, models of bones and
skeletons. File folders were piled and crumpled one atop the other.
Dawn saw that a good number had fallen in heaps on the floor.

Finally, the Doctor reached out, eyes staring
at the folder in her hands, and he snapped his fingers peevishly
until Dawn handed it to him. He took it, flipped it open on the
desk and hung his chin over it, his chair sideways to the forever
girl. The note from the Principal was paper clipped on the inside
of the folder. The Doctor took an unusually long time to read
it.

“Dawn,” he said finally, and then asked: “Do
you have a last name?”

The forever girl just shook her head
solemnly. Mr. Jay had always told her to say as little as possible
if something like this ever happened. He also said that he’d come
running at such a time, but she couldn’t imagine how he could help
her now.

The Doctor sighed, threw the file away from
him. “Nobody does any more.” He cleared his throat. “Nobody admits
it. A tie to the past—that has passed.” Then he looked the forever
girl up and down.

“Well, Dawn, we have rules here,” he said and
then cleared his throat until his eyes turned red. “Forgive me,
yes.” He coughed. “Rules, that are simple.”

Dawn stood by a chair beside the Doctor’s
desk. She kept her hands folded behind her back and her chin
pointed to the floor. She had not been told to sit, and she
wouldn’t.

“Follow the rules,” he murmured, nodded, and
then slapped around on the desk for her file. He dragged it onto
his lap. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll do exactly as
Nursie says. She’s
my
—medical assistant—and I don’t suppose
it would hurt you to know that she’s not right up here.”

He shook his head and pointed at it. “Not at
all, but she assists with you children and answers only to the
Prime. And for that matter, you’d do well to obey the Principal.
He’s been known to lose his temper.” The Doctor threw the file back
on the desk. “And I’ve had to treat the results of such displays of
emotion.” He stood up then, and walked behind his desk.

Dawn felt the hair stand up on the back of
her neck. The Doctor’s eyes flashed and his chin dipped.
“Don’t—don’t be, or rather you’d be wise to do as I say also.
Because, I’ll, I’ll give you an operation or something—hmm? How
would you like that?” He tapped his knuckles on the desk and smiled
when Dawn shivered. “I didn’t think you would.”

The Doctor chuckled to himself, but the humor
sounded strained and broken. He looked at her over the top of his
glasses. “Now, why…why would I say that? I shouldn’t say that!” He
held his hands in front of his face—mystified.

“I wasn’t always like this.” He looked up.
“He…” The Doctor lowered his voice. “
He
made me this way. To
die—with, by the Prime’s friends—worse, much worse than these
cankers on my soul.”

Then he flipped the file open and snatched
his pencil off the desk. He started writing as he spoke, “I will
schedule a physical examination for you.” He flipped the file
folder closed, and then wrote something on a small pad of white
paper before tearing a sheet off and handing it to her.

“Come on now!” he said, when he saw her
hesitate. “I don’t bite.”

Dawn hurried nimbly forward, snatched the
note and jumped away.

“You give that to Nursie when she’s does her
rounds. She’ll know what to do.” The Doctor’s eyes then started to
slide over Dawn’s body, lingering on her little brown ankles. A
look appeared on his face that made her want to run, but he broke
the spell by snatching his glasses off his face and returning to
his chair.

He said over his shoulder, “Go back to your
Dormitory. Your worker will take you.” He turned to look at her
long and hard and a strangely sympathetic expression filled his
features.

“Look it’s not so bad. I have heard that it
has been foretold—predicted—that the Prime by his Powers and Divine
guidance will come into the possession of the First-mother. He
intends to survive the end of the Change and at such a point the
legend has it that life will start anew. He will then need many
concubines to repopulate the earth with his seed. If you do not
turn out to be the First-mother, you might at least find yourself
lucky enough to be one of those and bear him many children.” The
Doctor shrugged. “So, cheer up, there’s hope!”

Dawn hurried out of the room and closed the
door behind her. Outside, the dead worker motioned for her to
follow and she did. A shiver went through her when she peeked at
the slip of paper the Doctor had given her.

It was blank.

55 – Bloody

Bloody stood beside Driver. He had been
brought from his walking coma by the danger and speed. He was
trying to sink into darkness again, but he was aware of things and
there was a ringing in his ears that he hated. He just wanted
quiet.

They got lost for the better part of a day
searching Zero—eventually taking turns napping and covering the
Angel. Even Felon slept eventually, shivering and crying out in a
sick slumber. The Marquis only knew that Lucifer could be found
under Zero. But that was all. They’d spent hours driving
alternately searching and hiding from Authority. And Zero was huge.
The Angel said it was Lucifer’s defenses at work. He didn’t want
company, and he wouldn’t be found by accident.