Hell House: A Tim Reaper Story Read online

  Lo and behold: a shiny set of keys on a leather fob with an embossed smiley face fell onto the front seat. I grabbed them with my left hand and climbed behind the wheel. I closed the driver door as quietly as possible and stuck the key in the ignition. My diversion was ready to go.

  I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I tromped on the gas pedal a few times, filling the quiet of the night with a series of mechanical roars. I put my foot on the brake and slipped the Buick into reverse just as Polyester Pete and his buddies came storming out of the back door. I could have easily switched the vehicle from reverse to drive with the goal of running over the trio but that would have been messy, and someone would call the cops. I stepped on the gas and quickly backed out of the driveway as Pete’s buddies gave chase. I rolled down the street half a block and then turned right into the parking lot of Blessed Life Baptist Church.

  I maneuvered the Buick in a circle so that I was facing the parking lot entrance and then killed the lights along with the engine. I dashed into the shadows as the pair of goons sprinted into the parking lot, coming to a stop about a dozen yards away from the car. It wasn’t going anywhere, I had the keys in my pocket. I grabbed a chunk of slag and hurtled it at the closest goon, nailing him hard on the right side of his head. He dropped to the ground as the second good pulled out a nine-inch blade from a sheath that was hidden behind his ugly blazer.

  “Get up, Fergus!” he hissed. “That fucker is toying with us and I’m going to gut him.”

  Fergus groaned for a few seconds and then slowly got onto his hands and knees. I could see a line of blood along the right side of his face, so my slag chunk had done its work.

  I blasted another chunk of Copper Cliff’s finest at the soulless prick only this time it was the size of a baseball. It connected hard on his right cheek and I could have sworn I heard a crunch. Either I’d fractured his skull or crushed his cheekbone and he was out like a light. His head actually bounced when it hit the ground.

  “Cocksucker!” the goon with the blade hissed again. “Come out and face me!”

  I grabbed a chunk of slag and threw it into a bush a few feet away from where he was standing. He spun around and dashed toward the bush which gave me enough time to spring out from the shadows and tackle him from behind like Mean Joe Greene at the Superbowl. The knife flew from his hand as I drove my right fist into the back of his skull. My knuckledusters split his head like a ripe melon and he started flopping around for a few seconds until he died.

  When it’s regular people who pass away, their soul drifts out their now lifeless body appearing as a fine glowing mist for a second or two. Then, they take spiritual form. A reaper is waiting nearby, and that soul is then escorted to its eternal reward.

  There was escort for the dead prick. Just me dragging his body to the Buick and then into the trunk. The first creep was still out cold, so I threw him in the trunk alongside his dead buddy. I grabbed the tire iron from inside the spare tire, closed the trunk and then hopped into the front seat of the Buick. A few moments later I was parked in the slag driveway next to Polyester Pete’s house.

  3

  I jumped out of the Buick and ran around to the back of the house, tire iron in hand. Yellow-orange light spilled out of an open back door and I could hear a female sobbing in the basement. I stepped into the house and closed the door behind me.

  “Where are you?” I shouted.

  “I-I’m downstairs!” she called out. “I’m tied up and he took off!”

  I slowly crept down the stairs, my back hugging the wall. They made a hard-right turn near the bottom and I poked my head around slowly to have a peek. I could smell heating oil from the furnace nearby as I spotted the window that I’d been looking through only a few minutes ago.

  I strode across a dry concrete floor that was surprisingly clean and free of dust until I stood next to the shovels and lime I’d spotted. A half open door stood before me.

  “H-He’s gone now,” the terrified female voice called out. “I can see you in the doorway.”

  I gripped the tire iron tightly in my right hand and then I poked the door hard. It swung open and there in far-right corner was the girl. I spotted a single light bulb in the ceiling and a pull switch on a chain. I strode into the room and quickly pulled the switch, spinning around on my heels to scan the room just as the light came on.

  No sooner than the time it took for my eyes to adjust to the light. I heard Buick’s engine roaring to life just outside the window in the next room. Then came the loud crunching sound of the tires rolling over the slag as it backed out of the driveway.

  Yep, Polyester Pete was gone. The girl was lying inside a red circle that had been painted onto the concrete. All around were demonic sigils likely meant to enhance the rite of summoning. A small metal mallet lay on the floor just outside the circle, presumably to knock her out cold before killing her.

  At least she’d live to see another day.

  I raced across the room and untied the yellow nylon rope Pete had used to bind the girl. She threw her arms around me as I worked on freeing her legs. In a few seconds I’d managed to get the knot-infested rope off the girl’s legs and I lifted her up off the floor and stepped outside of the circle.

  It was at that moment I felt a presence in the room. It pressed down on me like a dead weight. The girl slipped out of my hands and fell to the floor as I dropped onto all fours.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked in a voice that had a slight edge of impatience to it which was odd given that I’d just saved her ass.

  I breathed hard for a few seconds and looked up at her. “Can’t you feel that?”

  “Feel what?” she answered.

  It was obvious the girl hadn’t experienced the presence and maybe it was a good thing. Everything felt heavier. Every thought seemed to take longer to process. My arms and legs began to feel like dead weight.

  “Let’s move,” I said in a tired voice. “The bad guy is long gone now. Probably had a spare set of keys.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice growing stronger. “You look hurt.”

  I was in no position to give the girl Reader’s Digest version of time, space, and theological destiny. The presence kept pushing on me; lashing out with a cold emptiness I could feel in my bowels. A bead of sweat rolled down my nose and dripped onto the floor as I grated my teeth together.

  “RUN!” I roared at the girl.

  Only she didn’t run. She just stood there looking down at me. She rolled her head slightly to the right and leaned forward. Her eyes narrowed sharply and out of nowhere, the girl kicked me in the face. My head snapped sharply to the left and I fell onto the floor.

  She grabbed a handful of my hair and I screamed as she dug her sharp fingernails into my scalp. I grated my teeth together and opened my eyes to see the girl’s glamour had given way to a pair of perfectly sculpted female legs with slick black scales that crawled up an extended torso and then across a pair of breasts; each with a blinking eye where a nipple should have been. Two enormous leathery wings unfurled from creature’s back and a serpent’s face that looked surprisingly human appeared took shape.

  We had just leapt from VERY BAD SHIT to HOLY FUCK, RUN in the blink of an eye.

  “Fuck me … the Fallen,” I groaned.

  She kicked me in the face with her scaled foot one more time for good measure.

  “I am called Nebelia,” she said, smiling. “I give you my name freely to display that you have no power over me.”

  I shook my head and gazed up at the monster. Her pointy white teeth looked about ready to tear into my flesh. Her eyes were like those of a wild cat and each wrapped around either side of her head. A forked tongue slipped out from between her teeth and lashed out like a hellish whip.

  “Obviously,” I grunted as I leaned up on my elbows. “You’re the real bad guy here.”

  “And you are anathema for all time. Yes, we know about you. The great thinker. The one who questioned death itself
and forgot that functionaries of living and dying don’t get to ask questions. The search for answers is the fertile ground with which to plant the seeds of temptation. Temptation is what the Fallen specialize in. You? Not so much.”

  “Do you want a microphone? Are you going to keep talking all night?” I spat as I tried to get up onto my knees. Nebelia was having none of it, though. She kicked me in the ribs and I felt the and heard the crack as a pair of them broke.

  “Yes, well one must explain things thoroughly to lower beings. Sometimes we Fallen have to repeat ourselves and that often becomes a messy affair for the listener.”

  I felt the poke of my broken ribs against the outer shell of my left lung with each breath I drew into my host’s body. That’s one of the downsides of reanimating dead dudes like Reg Dumont. Your essence is fused with the host’s central nervous system. If the body is damaged, you feel the pain. I was feeling the pain and I couldn’t draw upon the living energy in the ground below because of the poured concrete floor. That’s how I can heal super-quick, I tap the life out of anything organic that might be nearby.

  I was going to have to use my head but how was it possible to outsmart a fallen bloody angel? They’re the smartest ones in the room every time.

  But the Fallen did like to talk a good game, particularly if they were talking about themselves.

  As much as I disliked the demonic monologue, I decided to try and get Nebelia talking.

  “How many bodies since you hooked up with Polyester Pete and his soulless buddies?” I said, wincing, as I tried yet again to get back on my feet. I spat a bloody gob onto the floor at Nebelia’s feet in defiance. You have to be defiant, even when you’re scared shitless. Never let the bastards catch a whiff of your fear because if they do, you’re officially fucked.

  Nebelia’s wings folded back into her shoulders and she glamoured up, this time appearing as Marlene Dietrich. She leaned forward and threw me a sultry wink. “Wouldn’t you like to know, death-dealer. Maybe hundreds and maybe none at all. Yes, I know the two shovels and bags of lime looks bad, but what of it? These crude humans are pure vermin! His most precious creation is a failed experiment and it’s not just those like me who think it so. Oh, not at all. There are even some from up on high who feel as I do.”

  The fallen angel smirked as she covered her mouth with one clawed hand and pointed to heaven with the index finger on the other hand.

  “Yeah, that sounds like bullshit to me, demon,” I said in a surprisingly firm voice. “Why are you here, in this house. This town is small change for big shots like the Fallen. No politicians for famous celebrities to corrupt. Just plain old working folk.”

  Nebelia slashed my left cheek with her razor-sharp claws. Blood flew across the room; enough to get Reg Dumont sent up the river until the cops found out that old’ Reggie has been dead going on a year and a half now. Realizing the futility of the fallen angel trying to set me up, deciding that the most likely outcome would be death by a thousand beatings. Nebelia would go on talking while taking arbitrary swipes at me until the body of Reg Dumont simply gave out.

  I decided that I wasn’t going to take it even though if Nebelia willed it so, she could destroy the ancient essence that is me. I needed a means to escape. To heal my host’s body. Maybe even to call in the heavenly cavalry, assuming anyone was listening.

  The fallen angel turned her back to me. I grabbed the rope that had been used to bind Nebelia’s teenaged girl in distress glamour and jumped onto the creature’s back. I looped the yellow nylon cord around its neck and started pulling for all I was worth.

  Nebelia clawed at her throat as I tightened my grip. She choked and hissed as black spittle flew out of her mouth and splattered the ceiling. She flailed madly; dropping to a knee and writhing in desperation.

  That was, until the moment the fallen angel stopped making choking sounds swapping them out for amused chuckling. She stood up and then in a blur of incredible speed; she drove her back along with yours truly straight into the poured concrete wall.

  And the walls shook. I shit you not. Dust fell from the ceiling and I slid onto the floor.

  The fallen angel morphed into her true form; her scales glistening in the ambient light. The falling dust didn’t even touch her. She stepped forward and dropped to one knee as she lifted my chin with the claw of her right index finger. I felt the sting as she pierced the skin. A second or so later, I could feel a dribble of blood running down my chin and dripping onto my shirt.

  “I am a very good actor, don’t you think, death-dealer?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you deserve an Oscar. Now, why are the Fallen here in this town?” I groaned as fiery currents of pain shot up my host’s spine.

  “Why here? In this shabby mining town where the night glows from the molten slag being poured down an endlessly growing hill. Why not?”

  I blinked at her weakly and slurred, “You’re from the big leagues, hell spawn. This town is chump change for your kind.”

  BIG mistake. She dug that claw into my chin so hard that it cut through the muscle and popped up inside the bottom of my mouth. Blood and saliva poured out of my lips and I knew that if she twitched a finger or sneezed, she would probably tear Reg Dumont’s head off.

  “I am from the beginning!” she hissed. “I am a Lord of Tartarus and a ruler of lowly hell spawn. The only one higher than me and my brothers and sisters is Lucifer himself. You play a dangerous game, abomination, but I am not without a desire for sport. If I pull my claw out, you will possibly bleed to death; or at least the thing you are wearing will. So, I will make sure you survive long enough to see what I have to show you.”

  The fallen angel’s thin lips curled up into a wicked grin. Then her claw became as hot as a welder’s torch. It glowed brightly, searing the torn flesh as she slowly pulled her claw out of my face. My nostrils filled with the smell of burning meat and sulfur and my flesh sizzled for a few seconds as she licked her still smoldering claw.

  I waved a hand in surrender. “Show me whatever it is you want me to see but know this: you destroy this body and I’ll just come back with a new look. And if you destroy a reaper, well, who knows what will happen them. Maybe my old boss Ezekiel will show up.”

  I was probably bluffing. Ezekiel and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms. It would be a crap shoot whether he would lift a finger to help me.

  “The angel of death and transformation was also there at the beginning,” Nebelia said with a slight longing in her voice. “We were once allied in the service of the creator, but He cast us out for simply beginning to question the status-quo. Surely you can understand what it’s like, death-dealer. In a way, we two are the same.”

  I stood up and wheezed with every breath into my lungs. Everything hurt. Every bone ached. All my muscles felt like they’d been pressed in a vice.

  “We’re not the same,” I said through a clenched jaw. “I claimed souls, you corrupt them. I exist because human beings exist. And there is good in people, maybe that’s why your kind hates them so much.”

  Nebelia grabbed a handful of my hair and proceeded to smash my face against her hard, scaly knee. My nose exploded in a spray of blood. The pain was indescribable.

  “I have so much to show you, abomination,” she jeered. “Let us go and look then, shall we?”

  Before I could spit out the blood and saliva that had filled my mouth, the creature pushed me onto the floor and then grabbed my right ankle. She dragged me across the cold concrete and then up the stairs. My head struck each step hard enough to leave a goose egg and my ribs ached with every breath I drew into my lungs.

  She let go of my leg when we entered the kitchen and my foot dropped onto the linoleum. I raised my head to see Nebelia standing next to the kitchen window.

  “Why haven’t you destroyed me yet? It’s clear you aren’t afraid of them assholes upstairs.” I sputtered.

  The fallen angel tilted her head to the right and said, “Is that what you think? That I intend to destroy you?
A silly thought, abomination. Now you get back up onto your feet and stagger over here. I’ve something for you to see and all you need to do is look through the kitchen window.”

  I somehow found the strength to get up on my knees. Nebelia threw me an impatient look and the exhaled in frustration. “Come here,” she huffed as she made a lifting motion with her right hand. An invisible force grabbed me by the coat and pulled me until I was standing straight. She pointed to the window and I flew across the room; my hips crashing against the counter. My face stopped about an inch away from the glass and I immediately vomited into the sink I was leaning over.

  “Now … see,” Nebelia hissed. I looked out expecting to see the east facing wall of the house next door and instead all I saw was blackness. And this wasn’t the blackness you experience when the power suddenly goes out and you’re sitting there with a bowl of popcorn in the darkness. This was nothing. A great empty void.

  I spat into the sink and said, “It’s just darkness.”

  The fallen angel grabbed a handful of my hair once again, and then pushed my face hard against the glass of the window. “Look closer,” she whispered in my ear. I cringed as her slimy warm tongue licked the blood off my face from a cut over my left eye.

  I drew a cold breath and gazed out into the blackness. “There’s nothing, it’s just … wait.”

  I focused my gaze on what appeared to be an incorporeal form in the chasm. A naked man, his face twisted and contorted with horror.

  “A new arrival,” said Nebelia. “His hell is all eternity drifting in a void of nothingness. All alone forever and ever and ever. Now, come to the living room and I will show you more.”

  “What did the guy do to deserve a horrible fate like an eternity alone?” I asked.

  The creature shrugged. “Who knows, really. Everyone’s hell is a little different. The windows of this house offer a glimpse.”