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  “Told ya.”

  John shot up the pile again.

  “Look, John, you don’t have to keep doing this. Maybe you can’t.”

  “I can,” John said with a determination that she never knew he possessed.

  John tried jumping into the air. He landed back on his feet and tried again. He jumped a little higher but came right back down until he heard a voice tell him to simply “think” fly. John stilled his heart and mind and thought about flying, and he slowly began rising into the air. He flew around the junkyard, trying not to bump into the crane and other objects. He was quickly becoming accustomed to the idea of flying.

  Camilla looked up at him flying around, hardly believing what she was seeing. John made his way to where she stood and hovered above her. Camilla tried to say something, but nothing came out, however John found his voice.

  “Don’t wait up.”

  And he took off.

  Pitch black darkness and endless, excruciating pain had become his reality for what seemed to be an eternity. Kenneth Rose couldn’t even think of a time when he wasn’t in perpetual anguish and darkness. Hell had transformed from a figment of imagination for people he considered to be weak and feeble to a place that was physical, with a foundation and rules. With each passing moment, the worms ate at whatever flesh they could find; when there was none, they sought bone. Even after they devoured his bones, they hungered still and ate at his soul. He wept, screamed, tried to sleep when the worms hunger seemed to be sated, and he even prayed when the worms began eating again.

  He prayed for solace, for a reprieve, but mostly he prayed that Andrea, the wife he mistreated almost the entire time he knew her, wouldn’t find her way here. Maybe, just maybe, if God was listening he would find a way to reveal himself to her so that she would find him and be saved.

  At least someone would be because he knew there was no one coming to save him, until one day he felt something that he hadn’t felt for a long time—movement on the outside of his coffin. He felt sand falling around it. He also began to feel the sensation of something being raised or dropped, but he couldn’t tell in which direction. Kenneth’s fear began to overtake the pain and the eternal darkness that lived with him in the coffin.

  Before he was thrown into the casket the demons told him that his coffin was close to the Sea of Fire and that it had already claimed thousands of coffins and carried them off to sea. Dread gripped his heart, knowing that there were that many coffins filled with living souls dealing with the horror inside the coffins, coupled with being subjected to the worst torment that hell offered, the Sea of Fire. The thought that his coffin was next to suffer the same fate was unbearable.

  With the movement of his coffin, he certainly knew that he was next and there was nothing he could do about it. Suddenly the movement stopped and he could hear voices outside. A strong, feminine voice dictated orders and another weak, masculine voice obeyed. He had not heard voices other than his own for quite some time. Soon the voices grew louder, clearer, and he heard a loud crack as the casket was opened.

  Lilith and Ornias looked upon the unfortunate soul and what they saw was an all too familiar sight of a withered and tormented being. Kenneth was mostly all soul with very little bone and little to no flesh on his body. Though the hellish sun beat down on the desert, it felt like cool air after being trapped inside the coffin for so long. Lilith and Ornias spoke among themselves, but Kenneth only heard muffled voices because his ears hadn’t grown back. The full and lethargic chemaworms poured out of the coffin. Ornias picked some of the creatures up and tossed them aside, but one got away and slithered close to Lilith. She crushed its head.

  “I can’t look,” Lilith said. “The sight of a tortured soul is always a disturbing one.”

  “Really? I kind of like it. How come it doesn’t bother you when you disfigure others?” Ornias asked.

  “Simple. I’m the one doing the disfiguring and I love to admire my handiwork, but enough talk. Can we move him?”

  “No, he isn’t well enough. If we take him through a gate in this state, then he may be lost inside the portal. But if you’re desperate to move him, we can carry him,” Ornias replied.

  But when Lilith gave a look that signified her disgust, he corrected himself.

  “I mean I can carry him . . .”

  “How long will it take for him to completely heal from his injuries?”

  “With this amount of damage, it will take at least a full day or two.”

  “A DAY?!” she yelled. “Surely demons on their routine patrol will discover what we’ve done.”

  She thought for a bit and decided on their next move.

  “Place the coffin back into the sands, cover it, make something to carry him, and let us begin walking before a patrol spots us,” Lilith commanded.

  “Yes, mistress,” Ornias responded.

  Ornias followed his orders and began crafting a gurney out of thin air using the power of his mind to create it. He crafted the wooden frames and even a cloth material to form a bed. He placed Kenneth on top of the gurney and Ornias used his mind to lift it. The three were ready to travel. Most demons in hell had not mastered this trick that came to them as second nature when they were angels. In heaven, crafting things from the mind was a power made possible by drawing power from the Holy Spirit to create. Anything that one could imagine could be crafted with practice; however in hell, the Holy Spirit was absent.

  Creating anything took more practice, more patience, and more time because it required that a demon draw the power from their own spirit. Lilith mastered the technique eons ago, but what was the sense of having a slave if one didn’t take advantage of their presence? They hadn’t walked but 100 yards before Raum and Nicor, two demons on patrol, landed before them and accosted them.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Raum asked.

  “Lilith, how interesting it is to see you and your slave outside of your cave,” Nicor said.

  “Hello, boys,” Lilith greeted the two ruggedly handsome human-looking spirits. They were tan-skinned with black hair. Raum sported a neat beard, but Nicor chose no facial hair. Both were strong and menacing, donning swords, and they worked well as a team. Their duties were to ferry souls to the Ottocom Desert to begin their eternal punishment. They frequently kept accurate counts of the guilty and could tell when a grave was disturbed. When they noticed a disturbed grave, they looked around and noticed two spirits traveling north and flew in to interrogate.

  Both wore black robes with black bat wings to identify themselves as demons, differentiating themselves from the fallen angels that wore gray robes and black-feathered wings resembling those of a crow. Upon meeting the two demons, Ornias simply bowed low and tried to hide their precious cargo. However, Kenneth Rose was oblivious to what was happening and moaned and groaned periodically as his body was slowly but surely healing itself.

  “Do you know that Raum and I keep an accurate count of the guilty in this desert?” Nicor said.

  “And we can always tell when there is a disturbance in a grave site,” Raum followed.

  “Do you know anything about a disrupted grave less than 100 yards south of here?” Nicor questioned.

  “No, I do not. My slave and I were just admiring the view of the Sea of Fire. It’s actually quite beautiful until you realize that souls are being eaten alive by it every day,” Lilith answered.

  “If you are going to play stupid, perhaps you should try it several miles away from where you just committed the crime,” Nicor said.

  “Crime?”

  “You should assume that we already know the truth of the matter,” Raum added.

  “And that would be?” Lilith asked.

  “THAT YOU STOLE FROM US. KENNETH ROSE IS OURS!” Nicor yelled and drew his sword and pointed it at Lilith.

  “I’ve seen bigger,” Lilith smirked.

  “If you give him back, then we will not tell General Deviat of your treacherous thievery,” Raum said hoping to avoid a confrontation.<
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  Lilith sought an altercation from the moment they landed and was the first to attack. She drew her short sword and met Nicor’s weapon; she attempted a roundhouse kick in Raum’s direction, but he ducked and drew his sword. Ornias took the gurney and tried to move away from the fray. Lilith was graceful and deadly as she easily parried their advances and began to take control of the fight.

  Nicor raised his arms to deliver a killing blow, but Lilith caught his arm and stabbed him in his chest twice before he knew what happened. Nicor fell to the sand, clearly hurt. Then she turned her attention to Raum, and as they fought she began pushing him toward the sea, hitting him in the face and body with elbows and knees while blocking every attempt he made.

  Nicor rose slowly to help his partner and made his way toward the melee. Raum made a slashing attempt, but Lilith ducked and stabbed him in the neck; her sword went clean through to the other side. She removed it and her next strike landed in Raum’s eye. He screamed and Lilith let out a blood thirsty roar as the demon fell to the desert floor with her sword still in his eye socket.

  Nicor’s war cry gave away how close he was, and Lilith turned around weaponless. She leaned to the side to dodge a stabbing attempt and then another. Nicor made a high-arching stabbing motion with his right arm and Lilith turned into him, grabbed his right wrist with her right hand, and in one continuous motion used his own momentum against him, plunging the sword deep into his chest as she moved away from his devastating blow.

  Lilith grabbed his waist with her left hand and rushed him to edge of the Sea of Fire and threw him in. Nicor fell screaming into the beyond boiling liquid oil, sword sticking in his torso and out of his back as he swiftly submerged. She watched him until he vanished into the blackness and dusted her hands. She returned to finish what she started with Raum, who was now up and limping toward Ornias and Kenneth with the sword still in his eye. Before he could reach them, he suddenly burst into flames.

  He screamed so loud that others would have heard, if he hadn’t been in the Ottocom Desert. He kept burning until his skin melted, then his muscles, next his bones, and then the rest of him until he was nothing but ashes that blew away in the desert wind. Lilith had finished Raum until he was a spirit floating without a body, and there was no telling how long it would take for his spirit to even begin building a new one.

  With both witnesses dealt with, the only thing that was left from the battle was her sword in Raum’s eye socket lying in the sand. She grabbed the sword and the skull, and the three of them continued on the journey back to Lilith’s cave without further incident.

  Early Sunday morning, John was ironing his shirt for church. Adjusting to his new body and powers was taking some getting used to, but he felt more and more comfortable every day, even though it had only been two days since his change. The knock on the door was none other than Camilla, and he was elated about seeing her for a third day in a row. They were going to accompany each other to church.

  Breakfast wasn’t quite as lavish as yesterday’s, but it was still quite good. Camilla sat down and enjoyed it and turned on the news. The big story was the grand opening of the Freedom Tower. New York City had been constructing a new building since the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. They watched as the news showed footage from the ground and the air, including reactions from ecstatic New Yorkers celebrating the opening of a new landmark.

  “I can’t tell you how good it is to see that building finally completed,” Camilla said.

  “Yeah, I remember the attack like it was yesterday, but like New Yorkers, we always pull through.”

  “So . . . are you going to tell me about it?”

  “About what?”

  “Flying! How was it?”

  “In a word? It was incredible, exhilarating.”

  “That was two . . .” She smirked halfheartedly. “I called you late last night but you didn’t pick up so I figured flying must really be something special.”

  “It is.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “. . . I went to Dubai, then Rome, China, Hawaii, Mexico, and then I came home.”

  “Impossible.”

  “I can fly fast . . . I mean really fast.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Well, I left you late afternoon and didn’t get back home till three this morning.”

  “You traveled the globe in under ten hours?”

  “. . . Yeah . . .”

  Camilla was at a total loss for words.

  “Hey, I’ll be right back; nature calls.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Camilla continued to follow the live coverage as John answered nature’s call. Then one of the news helicopters showed a military tanker traveling down the West Side Highway. She called out to John who also came to watch. They both thought it was odd but assumed it was a part of the grand opening. The same news helicopter also picked up what appeared to be a military helicopter off in the distance.

  Suddenly a missile was fired from the military chopper. It hit another news helicopter, and the whole sequence was captured on video! Simultaneously, the tanker also began firing on civilian cars. John and Camilla knew then that this was another well-planned terrorist attack on the city. The M1A/2 Abrams Battle Tank began riding over civilian cars. Some people were able to escape but others couldn’t. The AH-64 Apache also kept shooting missiles at nearby buildings and cars.

  John knew that this was his first test. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to do, but he knew that he couldn’t, nor wouldn’t, just sit back and let whatever was happening continue to happen without his interference. He felt a tug in his heart and heard a calm still voice tell him to go to the roof of his building. When he ran out of his apartment and raced upstairs, Camilla followed him. Once there, he felt the strange inscription on his forehead begin to pulsate and glow.

  Camilla was right behind him, wondering what was about to transpire. What she saw next left her astounded. The burning sensation was intense and John thought about his armor. Instantly the suit powered up and began growing on him almost robotically. It started at his chest and progressively covered his torso, waist, thighs, legs, and feet. His head and face were last. Then it was complete.

  “Amazing,” Camilla whispered. She had never witnessed an event like this, and it was all very surreal.

  John settled down and thought about flying and began to rise off the roof. Suddenly he was off. He looked back at Camilla who was getting smaller by the second as she waved good-bye before leaving the roof. John could see the Apache helicopter and noticed that it was on a trajectory course for the newly opened Freedom Tower. He didn’t know if that was the pilot’s intended course, but he slowly put two and two together, and it made the most logical sense to him.

  He was next to the pilot’s window within seconds and knocked on the window of the helicopter and pointed downward, trying to give the terrorists a chance to end their madness. The pilot was completely astonished that there was a man outside his window. Of all of the terrorists’ contingency plans, none included dealing with a flying man. The pilot took out his pistol and emptied the clip in John’s face. John fell back toward the tail and punched a hole in the fuel tank.

  The Apache began to plummet. As it did, he was caught by the rear spinning blades. There was a mini explosion at the collision, and he was thrown a bit. The pilot managed to steady the AH-64 and fired a final missile. The entire time John was busy trying to stop the craft, the pilot had locked onto the Freedom Tower and waited for a perfect moment to fire.

  John looked at the rocket and followed its projected course. His assumption was confirmed. He also noticed that the pilot jumped from the chopper without a parachute. Obviously this was a suicide attack by both the pilot and the driver of the tank. John didn’t hesitate and flew straight down to the pilot and caught him about twenty feet from the ground.

  T
he Apache crashed to the street just a moment later, crushing abandoned cars. John slowed his momentum very awkwardly but gathered himself and flew toward the missile. He followed the smoke trail and could see the distance was closing both on the collision and how close he was to catching it. He reached out to grab it and wrapped his hand around it.

  Success!

  He stopped the missile within fifty feet of the Freedom Tower and landed on the street, missile in hand. Most drivers with operational vehicles drove out of harm’s way, but there were still a bevy of destroyed cars lying in the middle of the street. John gave the terrorist to the NYPD officers on hand and dropped the missile at their feet. They watched without moving or saying a word. They were utterly amazed at what was happening in their city before their very eyes. And then John spoke to them.

  “You guys got him?” John asked.

  No answer.

  “Hey . . . cop? Take him. I gotta go.”

  Stunned faces. But the police sergeant did try to formulate words.

  “Oookaaay,” and John walked off to deal with the Battle Tank. Just then the officer found his voice.

  “Fr-Fr-Freeze!” But John had already left, leaving the terrorist and officers in wonder.

  The police scattered and watched as this heroic, incredible, godlike being walked into imminent danger with an Abrams Battle Tank bearing down on him. The tank approached John and stopped about 40 feet in front of him. The main gun on the tank took aim at John and fired a direct shot. John dug his heels into the street and took the shot directly to the body, and the explosion surrounded him. The dust rose and set and the smoke began to clear.

  John was standing tall. He did not even take a knee. He advanced on the tank and punched the front end and completely smashed it in. He then climbed onto the tank, grabbed the main gun along with the turret ring, and separated it from the hull. He softly tossed the main gun and grabbed the front of the tank and flew into the air about fifteen feet. John held the driver’s hatch upside down, and the driver fell out of the tank—shaken but relatively unharmed. John grabbed him and flew him to the police officer, where his accomplice sat in handcuffs with an array of guns trained on him.