IRONGATE

by

Terry Wright

Part III

The Devil's Advocate

Falling, tumbling, spinning around and around, arms and legs splayed, the clothes ripped from his body, Billy no longer felt the pulse of life surging through his veins. Down, down, down, he spiraled into an ethereal void where sight and sound seemed only imagined, as in a dream. Guttural screams rose from the depths. Shrieking cries echoed all around him. Searing flames and the heat of a blast furnace engulfed his naked soul, a soul made of hell-flesh, an endless source of pain and suffering. He now realized the cries and screams he heard were his own.

Toil began with the sting of a lash, the curse of a demon. He felt the weight of chains on his legs, a shovel in one hand, a fire in his throat from a thirst like none he’d ever known. Now, a line of the doomed stretched out before him, a multitude of faceless souls chained together, trudging down a well-worn path that wormed its way through fire-lit cambers. Long shadows paraded across granite walls, and black ash swirled in the air. Red-hot pain jabbed his flesh with every step he took down into the bowels of hell.

Sobs of misery came from all sides. Muscular men and women, their naked skin shining with sweat, swung picks. Rocks shattered. The damned made piles of coal into which he now thrust his shovel and lifted out a heavy load. Plodding down to the bottom of the pit where walls were made of flame, he pitched the coal rocks into the fire, as did the others, as they had done for millenniums, as they all would do for eternity.

Screeching demons tossed condemned souls into the flames, their hell-flesh bodies igniting, their screams echoing. Again and again, they were pitched into the fire. Over and over, hell’s torment would be their lot, forever. 

An awful stench filled the pit of horror. Back on the path, the damned moaned and groaned in agony.

Billy Denton cursed Justin Graves.

Laughter echoed.

Now he found himself standing on a tower of rock with only enough room for his feet. Flames leaped up all around him. The chains and the shovel were gone. But the echoing laughter remained.

“What’s so damn funny?” he shouted over the roaring inferno, not caring if he sounded offensive. After all, he was already dead. He was in hell. How much worse could things get?

“YOU FOOL!” came a throaty voice from the fire. “YOUR FATE WAS NOT IN THE HANDS OF JUSTICE.”

“But he let me fall.”

“IT WAS NOT HIS FAULT THAT ROTTED FLESH SHOULD FAIL.”

“He said he wanted to kill me. Now you can take Christy’s soul.”

The devil cackled. “YOU WANT HER HERE WITH YOU, DON’T YOU?”

“Nothing would please me more.”

Churning flames billowed up from the deep. “SHE’S MINE!” Gasses hissed. “SHE WILL MOTHER A MILLION DEMONS FROM MY SEED.”

“Serves the whore right.”

“BUT JUSTICE IS PROTECTING HER. I MUST DEFEAT HIM FIRST.”

“He won’t break the rules.”

Black smoke curled through fire-laced air. “EVERY BIT OF MANKIND’S EVIL IS WITHIN HIM, BUT HE CONTROLS HIS ANGER WELL.”

Folding heat-blistered arms across his chest, Billy spit. “Everyone has their breaking point, ain’t that right, their Achilles’ heel? Christy is Justin’s.”

“YES!  AND I SHALL BREAK HIM. YOU, BILLY, WILL BE MY ADVOCATE.”

“Say what?”

“GO BACK. WALK THE LINE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH AS JUSTICE DOES.  SEEK OUT AND DESTROY HIS DAUGHTER.  HE’LL CERTAINLY KILL YOU FOR THAT.”

“Kill me?”

“DON’T WORRY.  YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD.”

“So how can he kill me?”

The devil laughed. “IT’S CALLED INTENT!  I DON’T CARE HOW HE SHOWS IT.  HE CAN SHOOT YOU, STAB YOU, OR BREAK YOUR NECK.”

“Will it hurt?”

“NO MORE THAN TOILING IN MY KITCHEN.”

Billy had no desire to go back there. “What’s in it for me?”

Fire roared. “YOU DARE TO MAKE A DEAL WITH ME?”

“Where I came from, I was always the baddest of the bad. Give me command over your demons and I will give you Christy.”

“YOU FOOL. I’D RATHER CAST YOU INTO A CALDRON OF BURNING OIL FIRST.”

“Justin won’t give up his principles. He’ll win your stupid bet, and you’ll lose Christy. I’m your only hope.”

Hissing like a thousand demons, flames shot up a hundred feet. The curtain of fire parted revealing the crimson face of evil. “HOW DARE YOU TAUNT ME?”

“If I don’t help you, Justice will win. Do with me as you please.”

“I SHALL.”

“And you’ll lose.”

“I NEVER LOSE!”

“Never say never.”

The ground began to shake. Rockslides clattered. “VERY WELL.  BUT FAIL TO MAKE JUSTICE KILL YOU AND THE FATE THAT AWAITED HIM WILL BE YOURS.”

Billy felt a twinge in his soul. “What would that be?”

“MAGGOTS WILL FEED ON YOUR HELL-FLESH FOR ETERNITY, A NEVER-ENDING FEAST OF PAIN AND SUFFERING.”

Billy gulped. Being dead and in hell wasn’t the worst that could happen. “As long as I don’t have to work in your kitchen.”

“YOU MOCK ME, FOOL?”

“Quit you’re bitching, and send me back. I got a date with Christy.”

            Justin could do nothing but watch Billy disappear into the dark abyss, hear him scream and splat on the rocks below. It all happened so fast. He didn’t want Billy to die. Sure, he’d teased him, even taunted him, but in the end, he’d tried to save him. “It wasn’t my fault,” my fault he shouted, his words echoing through Penelope’s innards. He looked at his rotted arm, the meat half torn away, his hand, stripped to the bone. Or was it his fault…his dead body’s fault?

He felt a jolt. Oh no! Christy! If the devil thinks… His hollow chest panged. “You can’t blame me for this.”

In the back of his skull, he heard laughter.

Leaping into the air, Justin dematerialized and made the transposition to Penelope’s entrance. There, he chose to stay transparent in the shadows as he assessed the situation.

“Get those ropes up here, men.” Sweat shined Captain Holland’s round face. The armpits of his white shirt were soaked. “We need some more shoring timbers.”

“This stuff is rotten, sir.”

“Jensen and Niles—get down to Deckers Lumber. We need some new four-by-fours.”

Penelope groaned and creaked.

“Make that eight-by-tens.”

“More lanterns too,” someone put in.

“Here’s a first aid kit,” a lieutenant said.

“Hurry, men.” Holland stepped back into the mine with a flashlight, swept the beam back and forth. “We have to rescue them.”

Justin made wind swirl around Holland.

“What the…?”

“It’s me,” Justin said in a raspy voice. “Your men are dead. And Billy too.”

“Justice? Where are you? Show yourself.”

“What’s that, Captain?” The lieutenant asked. “What did you say?”

“Get them out of here,” Justin shouted. “The mine is going to cave in.”

“What?”

“But you stay here. We need to talk.”

“I don’t…”

“A cave-in, Captain.” Justin kicked rocks. “You want more of your men to die?”

Turning to his officers, Holland flailed his arms. “Get back. Get out. She’s going to cave in!”

They scrambled down the tailings pile.

Holland stayed behind. “Where are you, Justice?”

Justin materialized in the shadows and took a step forward.

Holland’s face turned a putrid green color. “Christ, Justice. Don’t you have any kind of deodorant for that?” He batted the air. “God—what happened to your arm?”

“Billy had hold of my wrist. I tried to save him.”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Get over it.”

“You can’t go around looking like that.” Holland rummaged through the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of gauze bandage. Stepping toward Justin, he screwed up his face. “Give me your hand.”

Justin held out his ragged, bony arm. “I need your help.”

“What happened to your face?”

Justin knew half his cheekbones were exposed. “Billy landed a lucky punch. But we have bigger problems.”

“Worse than this?” Holland held his breath, gathered together the stringy, rotten flesh around Justin’s bones, and started wrapping his arm and hand.

“You’ve got to understand,” Justin said, his voice hollow as an empty drum. “Billy’s dead. If the devil blames me, he’ll take Christy’s soul.”

Holland nodded but kept wrapping.

“Radio your men standing guard at the hospital. Find out if she’s okay.”

Holland nodded again, not looking up from his chore.

“Your turning blue, Captain.”

Finally, as he tied a knot in the bandage, he let out his air and gasped. “Second squad will notify me if they have a problem at the hospital. God, Justice—you’re a mess. Did somebody use you for target practice?”

“Just some bad ass cops in Livingston.”

Holland coughed. “You’re falling apart.”

“My body isn’t what it used to be.” Justin inspected his wrapped arm and hand and wiggled bony fingers. “Nice job.” He looked at Captain Holland, and for the first time, Justin felt as though he had a friend, a living soul that actually cared, an earthbound ally in his war against evil. “Call the hospital.”

Holland stepped to the mine entrance and pulled a two-way from his belt. “Second squad, report.”

Static.

Justin frowned.

“Second squad, report.”

Static.

Billy found himself standing in the middle of Deckers’ main street, a car bearing down on him at high speed. “Shit!” He dove for the curb but didn’t make it. The car hit him square on. Rolling in the gutter, he came up on his feet and quickly patted his chest and head checking for injuries. But he didn’t find a single scratch. He didn’t feel any pain. What a rush. He recognized the feel of his old blue jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes and rubbed his goatee. Not bad.

People milling around the bus stop seemed oblivious to him, as if he were invisible. Could that be…?

Suddenly, a creaking sound came from behind him. He spun around. A boy on an old bike rode right into him. He braced himself, and for an instant, the bike disappeared as it passed through him. By the time he turned around, the boy was peddling away as if nothing had happened.

Billy smiled. Being dead could have its advantages. He rushed to a department store window, and to his delight, didn’t see his reflection. As he touched the glass, it became invisible. He leaned on the glass and fell forward into a display case with a half-naked mannequin. Whipping around, he expected to see the glass shatter. But it didn’t. How cool. He walked through a wall and found himself in the ladies’ restroom. A young woman with long brown hair stood at the mirror, adjusting her bra. This was better than anything he could have imagined.

Laughter echoed inside his head. “I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING.”

“Give me a break.”

The woman didn’t flinch. Billy figured she couldn’t hear him either.

“DON’T GET SIDETRACKED. YOU’RE ON A MISSION.”

“But this could be so much fun.” Billy walked up behind the woman at the mirror and pinched her ass.

She let out a yelp, spun around, and froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. It seemed as though she was too afraid to move. “W-who’s there?”

Billy stood real close to her now, so close that if he were breathing, she’d feel the heat of his breath on her neck. Though he thought of lustful things he’d like to do to her, he got no response from his loins. He reached down and touched himself. Nothing.

“You bastard!” he shouted to the devil in his brain.

“LAST TIME YOU HAD A CHANCE TO KILL CHRISTY, YOU COULDN’T CONTROL YOURSELF.  NOW YOU HAVE NO CHOICE.”

“This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“PERHAPS YOU FEEL AS THOUGH YOU ARE BEING TREATED UNFAIRLY.”

Hell’s kitchen came to Billy’s mind. Backing away from the trembling woman, he snorted. “Save it for later, bitch.”

“USE YOUR POWERS WISELY, BILLY.”

“Yeah, Yeah.”

“CHRISTY IS HEAVILY DEFENDED.  THE  COPS ARE EVERYWHERE.”

“I’ll need a gun.”

Laughter.

Rushing down the main street, Billy came to a pawnshop. We Buy and Sell Guns, the window sign read. He walked through the door, through a couple of customers who gasped, and through a display case of camping supplies before stopping in front of a counter at the rear of the store. A balding clerk paid him no mind.

Rifles hung on the wall, some shotguns, a couple deer rifles, and a bunch of military machine guns. He huffed. Too much hardware to carry around. In a glass case, he spotted an array of handguns, several old Army-issue Colts, a Remington or two, Lugers and Glocks. The latter caught his attention: A Glock .45 with a thirteen round clip. On a shelf below the rifles, boxes of ammunition had been neatly stacked in order of their caliber. Forty-fives came in standard and hollow point. Why not? He waded into the counter, helped himself to a few boxes of hollow points, the Glock, and a couple spare clips. Being that the items became invisible when he touched them, Billy knew the clerk wouldn’t see them walk away. He had to laugh.

At the camping display, he noticed a nice hunting knife, a good six-inch blade complete with leather sheath. That went with him too. He walked through the back wall and into an alley where he hunkered down behind a dumpster and loaded the clips and the gun. They’d never know what hit ‘em. With Glock in hand and the hunting knife tucked in his waistband, he headed for Central Hospital. 

 In his transparent state, Justin dodged speeding gurneys and frantic staff as he rushed through the halls. Central Hospital looked like a war zone. He stepped over the limp bodies of Texas Rangers and Deckers police officers. Some had been shot, some stabbed; others’ throats were slashed. Doctors bent over the wounded. A defibrillator discharged. Men moaned.

“Doctor Maples to ER, stat.”

A nurse rushed by with a tray of bloody bandages.

Second squad had suffered a horrible defeat.

Justin flew up a bullet-riddled stairwell and headed for the west wing. A warning alarm wailed from the vacated nurses’ station. Pools of blood on the floor marked spots where officers had fallen. The place looked as if it had been attacked by an army, the walls scarred with bullet holes, windows shot out, and ceiling tiles scattered about. It looked as though the officers had fired their weapons wildly, in every direction, as if they’d been attacked from all sides, or worse, maybe they weren’t able to see their attackers. Had the devil sent a battalion of demons to take Christy back? Shit!

The door to room 214 hung on bent hinges as if it had been kicked in. Justin materialized and stood in the doorway, his empty chest throbbing with dread. One part of his soul ordered him to rush into the room before it was too late. Another part told him she was already gone. Did he really want to know that all he’d been through was in vain? Where did he get off thinking he could defeat the devil? His failures in life would be his failures in death. He made mistakes, and Christy would suffer for them all.

“Justice!” Captain Holland had just topped the stairs and was running toward him. “Wait! Don’t go in there.”

“I have to.”

“You know what you’re going to find?”

“My daughter.”

“She’s dead.”

“No!”

Holland approached as if Justin’s smell didn’t matter. “The alarms are coming from 214. She’s gone.”

“No!”

“You have to let her go.”

“I can’t.”

He grabbed Justin’s bandaged arm. “Go back to your afterlife, Justice. Rest in peace.”

“Not without Christy.” Hardening himself against his fear, Justin darted into her room. The heart monitor wailed a steady tone; the respirator sputtered. Justin felt a chill, colder than the depths of his grave.

On the bed, Christy’s lifeless body lay in a pool of blood-soaked sheets. Her chest had been splayed wide open, her heart cut from her body and tossed on the floor.

“Christy!” Justin clutched his bullet-riddled chest and fell to his bony knees. “No, Christy! No!”

Holland set his hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Let’s go. There’s nothing we can do here.”

As Justin raised his eyes to the Captain, he saw it, a message cut into the wall with a bloody knife:

“It’s Billy.”

Holland shook his head. “You told me he was dead.”

“He is.” Justin stood. “But he’s come back, like me, only he’s the embodiment of evil. Look what he did to her! I’ll kill him for this!”

“But you said…”

Justin balled a bony fist. “I’ve had enough of that punk.”

“Now take it easy, Justice. Think about what you’re saying.”

“My daughter is dead because of him!” Every bone in Justin’s decayed body wailed for revenge. “Don’t think I’m not going to do anything about it. I’ll bet Billy’s hiding out at Irongate.”

Holland grabbed Justin’s coat sleeve. “Now wait—think like a cop for a minute. Look at motive. Why would the devil send Billy to kill Christy? He could have taken her himself, isn’t that right?”

“He can do anything he wants.”

“So you see? This isn’t about Christy.” Holland shook Justin’s arm. “It’s about you, Justice. That’s why Christy has been made to suffer. The devil wants you.”

Justin yanked his arm from Holland’s grasp. “Then he’s going to get me.”

“JUSTICE! NO!”

With a gust of wind, the ghoul was gone.