Part 3: Hell’s Retribution
Chapter Twenty-Nine
These caverns, tunnels and deep flowing streams and rivers once lay beneath – and extended thereto – two great houses. These houses were at war with one another since before Christ bled from his five wounds. The tyrant King Darvon desired nothing short of land control. It was written by scholars that Darvon died by the hand of his own son – who named himself Orion.
A millennia later, these catacombs are nothing but another world; a dimension long forgotten by the poets and orators of yesteryear. The streams now provide drinking water for a winged demon – known as a Neowyrm.
The winged creature now sat on its hind legs with its leathery wings folded onto its backside. It was waiting for something; for it sat with a look of apprehension in its large red eyes and rolls of steam issuing from its blackened nostrils.
And then it happened. He came through a hole which had suddenly appeared in the air. He came through fast and hit the ground with a hard thud – shattering his left elbow as he fell. Charles Bolan did not have a chance to look up; if he had, he may have passed out before he felt two large iron claws grab his chest and legs and lift him into the air as the Neowyrm took flight. Bolan could hear the wet leathery wings moving up and down as they sped through the caves and valleys.
There was a strange numbness which took control of his human side. He knew that he should be horrified to find that he was taken by a winged creature somewhere in a hell which – he just somehow knew – only Tracy Kingston could have created.
No sooner had he thought about Tracy, the creature dropped him onto the ground with another hard thud – this time he thought his right ankle had broken. Now he looked up at his monstrosity and again, a strange feeling entered his soul. He did not seem at all surprised to see a Neowyrm.
Bolan stood up and before he could even wipe the dirt and sand off his slacks, he was thrown down – this time by someone else who had forced him onto his back. After a cough, Bolan opened his eyes and then they squinted in confusion.
“Don’t worry, Doc,” Allen Corgan chuckled as both of his hands pinned Bolan’s shoulders down. “I only need to borrow your head for a minute.”
Bolan’s eyes widened and he turned his attention to the already-blood-caked sword in Allen’s right hand. He quickly moved his head back to look at his patient. “Please, Allen. We need to talk about this,” he began as Allen flinched and then shook his head.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he replied and brought the edge of the steel to Bolan’s fleshy neck. “Don’t worry – you can have it back later.”
Bolan opened his mouth but no other words came out; only the cutting of his bones as the sword cleanly severed his head as Allen forced the blade down with both hands. Once complete, Allen dropped the sword and stood up and grabbed Bolan’s head by the scalp and began swinging it to and fro in a circle around him. He slowly spun around several times to make sure the blood had saturated enough of the ground before tossing the useless head, eyes still open, back to its lifeless owner.
Several minutes passed. Allen began to think that this insane idea would fail; he did, after all, believe that killing the guardian of the gate would bring Orion back – which had not. And then he felt the ground tremble beneath his sneakers. He looked down and watched the pebbles dance to a rhythmic song.
A large crack broke through the ground within the circle of blood which opened to a small canyon. Without thinking, Allen dropped onto his knees and bowed his head. Once he felt the earthquake cease, he opened his eyes and looked down into the canyon. There, he found a case of steps made of aged stone. He could not see where the steps led to, and he really didn’t want to know – he had no desire to meet the devil today.
Footfalls were heard in the darkness. The sounds were increasing in volume as the owner of the footfalls ascended the steps slowly. And then Allen let out a deep sigh of relief as the owner came into view. He watched the cloak swish back and forth; watched his black boots as they took their turn going up the steps of stone. He even watched the hood of the cloak which still had not moved from his head.
Orion himself let a deep sigh escape as he climbed that final step to be standing next to Allen, still kneeling. “A humble welcome, Master,” Allen began and Orion placed his hand on Allen’s shoulder.
“You will be greatly rewarded for your loyalty. I wish I had trained more men like you, Allen.” Orion looked around and then his view turned to that of the corpse laying several feet from where they were.
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“You have, but thank you, Sir,” Allen said and then stood next to his master. He followed the gaze and then smiled. “Sorry, sap, ain’t he?”
Orion shook his head and faced Allen. “We need all the help we can get – the Great War has now begun. I am thankful to this mortal for whose blood gave me life once again,” he paused and turned back to Bolan’s body. “Who was he anyway?”
Allen sat on a large rock and shrugged. “He’s just some doctor. He went apeshit when Tracy fried his machine.” Orion cut him off at the mention of Tracy's name and hissed.
“Where is she? And Richard? I want them dead!” he roared as his hands balled into fists.
Allen chuckled and lifted his hands to stop Orion. “Hold on – there are things you need to know,” he said and Orion sighed and walked over to him.
“Yes?” Orion waited impatiently for whatever Allen was about to tell him.
Allen took a breath and then began. “The window showed me that Tracy’s been forced into amnesia by this guy,” he pointed over to Bolan and then continued. “And Rick, well, he’s as good as dead – even if he did wake up from his little coma.”
“Let’s just make sure Tracy still has the book, maybe that’ll jolt her memory back,” Orion suggested and Allen shook his head.
“That’s another problem. The damned hospital burned to the ground when I had him pulled here. Tracy went home and Rick was transferred,” he explained.
“The book! Where is it? Who has it?” Orion shouted as panic overcame his emotions and he began pacing. He stopped half-way across the room and faced Allen. “There’s only one choice left for us,” he began and Allen stood up off the rock and walked over to his Master. “Come,” he commanded and exited the chamber.
As they walked, “I think you have spent too much time in this time, Fear,” Orion said as he glanced back at the young man walking behind him, who just rolled his eyes.
Allen followed his master into a cave to their left. This was a mysterious square chamber dedicated to the Oracles. Entire time lines were contained within this room of anyone they chose to watch. Orion learned of this chamber when he was a young child and that was when he learned of the book of the Forbidden Realms.
Orion stood in the center and began waving his hands in the air in front of his hood – fingers outstretched – and images began appearing throughout the room in yellow frames.
Hundreds of images filled the room – those of which included Rick’s entire life, Orion’s own past and present, Allen’s life (they grinned at the same time as these flashed by), and anyone else Orion chose to concentrate on. Orion, however, paid close attention to Tracy’s window, in a square around them. And then he witnessed Tracy and Rick’s window overlap into one large window and Orion smiled beneath his hood. It was the future Orion was most interested in.
“There is what we need,” he hissed and then turned to look at Allen. “You have served me well,” he paused and looked back at another window of a much older Rick Hopman and a young man and girl; she was perhaps twenty years of age. “Now I pray you save me once more.” Orion almost pleaded and Allen grinned.
Allen straightened his back. “You already know I will,” he replied then, “What does my Master wish of me?” he inquired and followed Orion’s gaze.
“I need you to jump the line and intercept these two,” Orion explained and Allen threw forth a confused expression.
“Okay, I know the dipshit, but who’s the babe?” he asked as he studied the young girl with long red hair.
“Hopefully, she will be of no significance – if my mission here is a success.” Orion was quick to answer the question, and was also quick to detect hints of protest.
“Then you need me here with you for this mission – not some god-for-saken future,” he responded to his mission and faced Orion in what face he could not see.
A chuckle escaped Orion. “No. Where I need you, is there,” he gestured to the window. “That is the second most pivotal time of the Great War – excluding my ascension that is. It’s vital you watch over those people,” he suggested with a tone of urgency and Allen nodded.
“How will I know if you have succeeded in getting your book?” Allen asked as he, too, was studying the image of an aged Rick.
“You will know. Once I have my book, I shall open the gates of Eden and everything will be ours to control.” Orion walked over to the window images and then turned to face Allen. “Know this: Richard is insignificant. It is his son and this girl that I am concerned about. Destroy them – it is vital you succeed.”
At least I have my first mission, Allen thought and nodded. “Your command is my honor,” Allen bowed his head and Orion patted his blackened crown.
Orion lifted his hands into the air, toward the future image of Rick and slowly brought it down toward Allen. “Be cautious,” warned Orion. “Vincent is a very formidable foe, but the girl has the potential to be a Dream Crusader – she must be wiped clear of this time square,” he concluded and then brought the framed image over Allen’s head, bringing it down over his body. As it lowered, Allen’s body faded out of the present time only to appear somewhere in the future.
Orion, pleased with himself, turned and walked back to the room where he ascended from hell and looked down at the headless body of Charles Bolan. “And what shall I do with you, my precious one?” he said and brought his bony fingers up to his hood and then disappeared within as he rubbed his grotesque chin with them.
This was no longer just a quest to recover his beloved book; this is now a war against Tracy Kingston and Richard Hopman – they have no idea what hell is really like. I’ll show you hell, my children, he thought and grinned. I’ll show you a little of hell’s retribution.