Chapter Eighteen
“Fight the good fight of the Lord, lay hold onto the eternal life thy hath been given, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a righteous profession before thy shepherd.”
–Father Abraham, “The Holy Word”. 22 Months After.
* * *
“Brother Ezekiel, you may now open your eyes.”
He did as told. The blurs of rehollowing clung to the edge of his vision, but somehow, he no longer seemed concerned. Not when there were so many fresh revelations floating through his mind.
The environment seemed to have changed as well. The sky had been cast in a layer of mantle of royal blue, the leaves of the many cypress trees around fluttered in the wind, shifting from green to yellow before disappearing in the tufts of grey that fell below. Even the lake where the baptism occurred had transformed into a crystalline sheet, reflecting the cerulean beauty that lay above. To think that he had thought this bayou was the pinnacle of ugliness when he first laid eyes upon it.
Father Abraham stood above. Calm. Serene. A bastion of justice against a world of Sin. The light fell onto him, casting rays besides his pious form. “What say you of the Lord?”
“Praise be His name,” Zeke repeated. No, not Zeke anymore. That was a different name. A sinner’s name. He was Ezekiel now. Brother Ezekiel. “God is great.”
The Father smiled. “He is indeed, my son. You have done so well to reach this point.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Do you know why God chose you, Ezekiel?”
He did not. Ezekiel had been wondering why this duty was thrust upon him since the moment this decision was made. At first, it seemed little more than an ill twist of fate. One job that’d pulled a Hunter too far from home, with nothing but despair upon reaching his destination. Though his crew perished before this point, somehow, some way, he had survived to reach this end. Could fate have been so cruel to drag his death out further?
But then he tasted a fraction of the truth for what it was, and though he now understood so much more, his Rez remained scattered by the new questions that each answer created. Why had he been given this charge? What purpose could a lowly mercenary such as he inflict in a land so pure?
Father Abraham grinned wide. “God saved you because of the power that you wield, Ezekiel.”
He blinked. “My power?”
“Yes, my son. It is this strength that you bear upon yourself that God has recognized. Not just your height or weight, but the sheer aura of tenacity that your soul radiates.” He chuckled. “Why, you managed to bring harm to so many in this congregation all by yourself, in spite of the dangers that it brought. Don’t you see how that is simply amazing?”
He supposed he did, in a sense. Though it did make him wonder… “Why did you save me after how many of your Enclave I purged?”
“But I didn’t, Brother Ezekiel,” the Father explained, his violet eyes bright in the light of the sun. “There is a weak part in my soul that would have preferred nothing more than to see you stoned to death for your crimes. It was not my decision to make, however. I trusted in the power of the Lord, and this was His answer, not mine. I was merely His vessel when He chose you to do His work. You owe me nothing, but you do owe everything to Him. Don’t you understand that? Don’t you see how how much His light shines on you?”
An answer and a non-answer, both roped together. Ezekiel’s head hurt. He didn’t like to think like this. He’d always preferred details that he could get in writing. But as he dove deep and reached into the depths of his Rez, he could find nothing else that bore substance.
Ezekiel could no longer remember what this Hunt had been about, or why it sent him all the way to Asscrack, Louisiana. Shit, he couldn’t even remember the name of the boss who’d given him this job. Boom. Gone. No more than a passing thought to be replaced by whatever floated through his mind next. What a joke.
And yet, here this new guy stood, smiling in front. Offering a promise of a different life. A better life. One that didn’t have him fight against this everlasting curse all alone. Why question any of this? These guys sure as hell never hollowed on their own.
As if he could read his mind, Father Abraham held out his hand. “Are you ready, Brother Ezekiel. Are you prepared to become God’s soldier?”
He gripped his hand. Ezekiel could find no greater path than this.
* * *
There was no room for failure here.
The heretic stood in front. Green scrubs as a uniform, automatic shotgun in hand, with the barrel aimed to kill. Brother Ezekiel whirled his bo staff around, striking the guard’s skull before he could fire. The unholy weapon dropped to the ground, and the heretic fell with it.
Another ran down the hall, peppering the area with submachine gun fire. Ezekiel dove low and drew his hand crossbow from within his long, black cloak, reflexively launching a bolt against his attacker. The Lord blessed the shot, for the shaft landed between the heretic’s eyes before he could land a killing blow.
Ezekiel wrenched the crank of his crossbow with one hand, and drew a replacement bolt with the other, but a heretic took advantage of the pause and charged. The bones in Ezekiel’s arm crunched under the butt of a rifle intended for his face, but donned in Inquisitor battle armor, the damage was nullified.
Ezekiel redirected, ramming the extra crossbow bolt into this new aggressor’s throat. The tip slid up through the base of the jaw, and the heretic’s eyes curled inward.
Ezekiel shoved him aside and finished loading his crossbow.
Brother Isaac grimaced. “Brother, there are too many heretics! We are getting overwhelmed.” He wrenched the lever on his repeater crossbow up and down, a flurry of bolts launching into their enemies behind.
Ezekiel studied the halls in front. This place… “Mother’s Grace,” as they called it… Bore so much familiarity without any memories to back it up. He’d walked through these pristine white halls before, laid in a hospital bed here more than once, yet he couldn’t identify a single moment.
He closed his eyes. Brother Ezekiel need not know the path forward. He need only follow that which the Lord had placed out in front. So long as he trusted in the visions given to him, it did not matter where they came from.
“Follow me,” Ezekiel ordered, drawing his staff again and rushing down the hall. The survivors of his team followed behind.
Already, they had lost Brothers Jason and Luke breaching the front door. Though the Inquisitors wore boiled leather armor beneath their black cloaks, this equipment only functioned to tilt melee weapons and little else. The heretics’ bullets tore through them with ease, making close-quarter-combat their only strength.
It was far from over. They still had Brothers Isaac, Gabriel, Lucius, and Malachi left, along with Ezekiel himself. Just as God created the Earth in seven days, and the Beholding would be resolved when the seven bowls of judgment were poured, so too were seven Inquisitors sent here. Seven soldiers of God, up against a hospital protected by hundreds, with nothing to guide them but the Lord above.
Brother Ezekiel slammed another heretic’s skull into the wall with a smirk.
Could their enemy have faced worse odds?
* * *
“There is no choice,” Father Abraham said, his hardened visage examining the Unholy City from the distance of their camp. “If our reports are true, then the Lord is testing our devotion now. We must rescue Leah Fenix from the heretics before she succumbs to this illness.”
“That would break the peace you’ve established,” Ezekiel pointed out. “We’d be risking a war.”
But the Father did not blink. “The Beholding is nothing more than a state of war, Brother Ezekiel. The Lord is combating the Devil inside the Chosen One’s soul, and the Whore of Babylon rallies more heretics as we speak. Where do you plan to be as the battle rages onward?”
He fell to his knees. “Wherever I am commanded.”
Father Abraham’s eyes twinkled with the Light of the Lord as he uttered his final command. “Save Leah Fenix. Save the Lord whom has saved your soul. Do not return without Her. The fate of the world depends on it!”
* * *
So it was that this divine duty fell to Ezekiel and his most trusted men. They would either secure the Chosen One, or they would all perish as traitors who defied the agreed upon terms of peace. Father Abraham had been explicit about where they stood. The moment they drew blood, he would have no choice but to disown them publicly. Any other route would incur the full wrath of Pandemonium and its people, at a time when they needed to baptize every Beholder they could get.
More scrub-clad heretics held formation at the end of a ward, the entire space open from the hallway they needed to pass. Tables and counters worked as makeshift cover as they turned this area into a killing field. Too tight to surpass with the Inquisitor’s current armament. Brother Gabriel charged forth, only to be cut down before he had traveled even a third of the way across.
Ezekiel grunted and doubled back, then pulled a grenade from one of the dead heretics behind, along with an automatic rifle. He yanked the pin and tossed the unholy weapon into the ward. Plaster and metal burst out.
With a roar, Ezekiel drew the rifle and fired into the shell-shocked heretics. His movements were quick and shots precise, the Lord guiding his hands as he smote His enemies. What few bullets the heretics managed to land in retaliation only struck Ezekiel’s midsection and shoulder, tearing holes through his leather armor. He shrugged off each with ease.
His other Brothers watched in shock at Ezekiel’s use of such a vile tool, but he merely nodded back. “Failure is not an option, Brothers. Press on while I cover you!”
There was no middle-ground here. Brother Ezekiel would see this task through to the end. No matter how difficult the path forward. No matter how blackened his soul became.
The sortie continued, with Ezekiel laying more firepower into the ward. Enemy reinforcements pressed in from behind, but buoyed by Ezekiel’s resolve, his Brothers claimed firearms of their own. Within moments of his group converging as one, the path forth became clear of hostilities.
Brother Ezekiel grinned. Blessed be the Lord’s guidance.
Brother Malachi grabbed Ezekiel on the shoulder. “This place is the best location to defend, and we will need to consider how to escape once the Chosen One is claimed. Go forth, Brother Ezekiel, and we will oppose the heretics here.”
He bowed in honor, then dashed onward.
This invasion had not been executed without thought. Ezekiel scouted the location in advance, and developed a general understanding of where the Fenix family was hidden within this complex, along with the most effective routes out. Were it not for the soldiers who had spotted Ezekiel and his Brothers attempting to sneak in, they would have already extracted the Chosen One by now.
Brother Ezekiel reached his destination. A single door in front, leading into an operating room. The leader of this place, Stein, had been seen going in and out of this place many times. And there was talk of vials filled with red, uncorrupted blood coming out…
Ezekiel shot the lock and thrust the door open.
Only to see nothing more than an empty room. A hospital bed lay in the middle, radiating out a sweet aroma that he had only tasted recently once before, back when he’d entered Cheyenne Mountain. Living flesh.
They were here. But where would they have gone next? Medicine cabinets lined the walls, a book lay abandoned on the ground, and any signs of life had vanished.
Then he looked up, and his chest thumped with raw emotion.
There, behind a wall of glass, his target stood in an observatory to the operating room, eyes locked with Ezekiel’s. Though his skin began to wrinkle, but there was no denying the flushed, beige sheen in his cheeks, the fullness of his brown hair, and the dark chestnut color of his eyes, completely devoid of Sin.
Liam Fenix watched back, terror-stricken with an open backpack at his waist. The Chosen One lay at his flank, blinking in the world from the safety of a child’s carrier.
So it appeared that another obstacle remained, for this surgery room’s observatory would be out of reach for even one as tall as Ezekiel, and that was where Liam Fenix had repositioned himself. Ezekiel scanned the boundary to decide which furniture could be used to climb up there with him.
Liam Fenix averted his gaze and went back to filling his pack. He quickly tossed a stuffed bear in next.
“Wait!” Ezekiel ordered.
He paused, a pistol now in hand.
“Why do you continue to hide from us, Liam?”
He furrowed his brow. “You people are coming for my daughter!”
Ezekiel sighed. “We wish to protect her and nothing more.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Oh? Do you believe that you’ll find safety here?” He grinned. “Tell me, what value has this hospital brought to her? As you hide inside these walls and use the tools of a world long forgotten, have you gotten any closer to solving the riddle of Leah’s illness?”
He did not answer.
“You will gain nothing here,” Ezekiel explained. “This illness was not born through mortal means. It is the Devil trying to corrupt her soul. Only through the power of prayer can she be saved.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Is that why Abraham sent you?”
“I came of my own accord,” he lied. It would not do for any to believe otherwise. “There will be reprimands against my actions, and I may be dead before this is over, but I chose to go down this path because I trust in the power that your child possesses.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Perhaps, but I do know this: what you call ‘the Hollowing’ has brought human life to its knees. Every civilization on this earth fell against its supernatural fury, and only a precious few still persist against it. But those of us who survived the initial plague are still sick, broken, and dying, our minds taunted by an evil we can never escape. This is the circumstance that our people have devolved to, and none have escaped this day of judgment.
“Except for you, your wife, and your child. Where everyone else became corrupted, your family remained pure. Do I need to explain to you how much of a miracle this must have been? Is it so difficult to believe that you were guided to this point by divine hands? God sent us to save you from the dangers of this world.”
“That might be how you see things, mate, but from my view, we were doing perfectly fine until you people showed up!”
“Were you?” Ezekiel asked. “I saw the bunker which you had taken as your home. It was a cold, dark place. An ugly place. Far removed from the light that you crave, and one born in solitude. Do you not yearn to walk free again? Would it not be better to live with a community who would love and protect you? If not for yourself, then for her?” He held out a hand. “That is who we are, Liam Fenix. Not the monsters you assume, but mere servants for your kind. We wish for nothing more than to behold your daughter’s greatness.”
Liam looked to his half-empty bag and the child behind. The pistol quaked in his hand.
“Can you promise that no harm would come to her?” Liam asked. “Can you guarantee that nothing bad would happen to her in your community?”
Ezekiel could almost laugh. “There is no need for such words. She’ll be under the almighty protection of the Lord above.”
He met him in the eyes. “That isn’t good enough.”
It all happened so fast. Liam raised his pistol and opened fire. Only by the grace of the Lord did Ezekiel react in time, ripping a nearby metal food tray as a shield. His arms shuddered where the bullets struck through, but between the glass and the tray, enough velocity had been lost to keep his head protected.
By the time he tossed the tray aside, Liam had thrown on a respirator and ran out the door to the observatory, his backpack over his shoulder, and the Chosen One’s mobile carrier in his arms.
Ezekiel blinked through the shock and leapt in pursuit, quickly thrusting a table below to give himself extra distance. Fractures formed in the observatory glass where Liam shot into, spreading tiny crystalline cracks along its surface. Ezekiel threw his full weight into this spot. The glass shattered against his strength, though not without opening dozens of tears in his cloak and flesh. He spit out a shard and kept running.
Liam had already reached the end of the hall before Ezekiel made it to the door. How could he possess so much speed!?
“Brothers!” Ezekiel bellowed, loud enough for them to hear behind. “This way! We’re losing the Chosen One!”
The gunshots died down, but there was no time to wait. Ezekiel launched into a charge, the Lord carrying his legs onward.
The pursuit continued around the narrow, empty halls as Ezekiel struggled to keep pace. Where are you going? Liam did not move to the main entrance, nor did he go to any place where more guards would lie in wait. He went instead to an abandoned part of the complex, far from prying eyes. An abrupt turn sent him down a stairwell.
Ezekiel followed. Down one flight, and then another, and another. He could no longer keep pace with Liam and his inhuman agility, but he could taste his sweat in the air and hear Leah’s dwindling cries. Ezekiel’s courage intensified, and he began to jump from floor to floor. His knees crunched under the added force, but they did not break.
He reached the bottom floor. His heart sank. The great expanse of a parking garage spanned in front, with a sole truck at the center.
And Liam had not only reached this truck first, but he was just about finished securing Leah on the passenger’s side.
Ezekiel grunted and dashed forth. Liam gave him a mere cursory glance before clicking the final buckle in place and running for the driver’s side. Before Ezekiel could get within twenty paces of the infernal device, his target had already rolled into motion. No matter how quickly he moved to head it off, the truck accelerated out of reach, hooking around the open space before finally turning for the exit. A steel fence blocked the path out, but this did little to prevent the truck from roaring through.
The remaining Inquisitors spilled through the stairwell as Ezekiel stared at the torn fence, dumbfounded.
“What happened?” Brother Isaac asked.
He looked to his Brothers. They were like him. Injured, bloodied, afraid. To have gone to such lengths, only for their target to slip free… What would happen to their souls now?
There’s still a chance. Ezekiel tossed his unholy weapon and clenched his fists. “Our trials have become more difficult. Come, Brothers! There is no time to waste!”
He dashed again in chase, and his allies followed.
Pandemonium, the Unholy City. The Beholders had come to shun such a vile place, but they were alone in this aversion. Most of their corrupted kindred chose heresy over enlightenment in their ignorance, and there was no place more powerful a beacon for these Sins. Just about anyone gifted with a mind would eventually work their way to these tainted streets, lost souls on an inevitable drift to Hell.
And Hell overflowed when enough became trapped within.
Liam had not gained the advantage he first thought. With the streets of Pandemonium congested and his truck no more than another element in the chaos, his early advantage of escaping Mother’s Grace became clogged in the never-ending flow of foot traffic. Now his truck slowed to a crawl, while Ezekiel and his Brothers could still run without pause, now even quicker without machine guns to slow them down.
He must have caught sight of them, however, because his vehicle reversed direction before long and gained distance within another street, only to fall into a similar trap and try again.
Road by road, alley by alley, the dance continued. The space between them grew and waned as Liam changed routes, but he could never escape the Inquisitors entirely, for the power of the Lord carried them onward at an even clip, while Liam trusted in a metallic construct to escape His wrath.
Finally, the truck veered for the boundaries of the city. Ezekiel scoffed. What a shortsighted plan. There were few places in Pandemonium more controlled than the Styx. Finding their way through undetected had been a trial of its own, and that said nothing for the vehicles that needed to pass through each gate. Such a task would be nigh impossible for Liam and his human daughter.
But as they rounded the bend, Ezekiel’s gasped against their misfortune. As chance would have it, a delivery truck was being inspected by the gate, with the guards combing the interior while the driver waited patiently besides. The great portal opened as the formalities drew to a close.
…Giving Liam the perfect opening. His truck veered forth.
“Faster!” Ezekiel ordered, but his own body was already at its limit.
Their sprints fell into a quickened stagger and back again as they fought to maintain this level of haste. Gunshots erupted at the wall, but not to them. Ezekiel watched in horror as their rounds bounced against Liam’s truck. Were the heretics trying to kill him?
It did not matter. The gunfire bounced harmlessly off reinforced steel plating, and Liam flew through the open space before their bullets could find purchase, disappearing into open road seconds later.
Ezekiel’s chest tightened in terror, but he did not slow. Not now. His wrath redirected to the heretics nearby, standing around with a truck of their own. He nodded to his Brothers and changed direction. No commands were needed.
It was over within moments. The soldiers were too distracted by Liam to have seen the Inquisitors coming. Once in range, Ezekiel drew his bo staff and made short work of the heretics, bludgeoning them to death. He quickly claimed their automatic weapons as his own before tossing them to his allies. Brother Malachi killed the driver seconds later, thrusting his dead body into the street. The others filed into the trailer while Ezekiel went behind the wheel himself.
With the guidance of the Lord, he unlocked the mechanisms that kept truck in place, shifted the gear, and floored the gas pedal. More bullets flew, now on them, but it was too late. Their truck rolled into motion, flying in pursuit beyond the Styx.
Liam’s truck had gained a hefty distance compared to them, and no matter how much Ezekiel accelerated, his vehicle lacked the horsepower of his opponent.
But that would not be enough for him. Now that they were free from Pandemonium and the fury of the heretics within, this chase no longer complicated them. No matter how far Liam took the Chosen One, he could not evade them forever. Ezekiel and his Brothers would travel to the bowels of Hell itself if that was what they required to see this through.
By the Lord’s Word, they would not lose Leah Fenix again!
