walk toward the crater, cautious but with a deliberate pace. We reach the edge. Flames are still burning in the middle of it like an Olympic torch. A broken wing breaches the flame. We collectively hold our breath. A thick, dark red colored hand reaches out of the fire. Then, slowly, Balzuzu stumbles forward.
He’s a shell of himself, the left side of his body fully exposed, a collection of thick, fleshy muscle tissue hanging from charcoal bones. He’s hemorrhaging fluid everywhere, as if he was drowning in a sea of his own black blood. His right arm is hanging useless, broken like a toy doll whose arm was twisted backwards from the elbow down. His once terrifying goat face no longer has a bottom jaw. His remaining horn is a jagged stump. Syrupy ooze drips from his eye sockets. But still he sees us. He makes it two steps forward before dropping to one knee.
“I will kill you both. Slowly. Painfully. I will imprison your souls for eternity. I will fill your infinite death with a thousand forms of torture. I will—”
I reload a brand new clip and hold down the trigger until every bullet lodges into whatever’s left of his face. The barrage of incendiary lead chips away his teeth. His agonizing shrill scream becomes a choking gurgle as spongy pieces of his foul tongue dislodge and slip down his throat.
“Now that’s what I call opening up a can of shut the fuck up,” I say proudly.
Still, the fucker lives. I discharge the empty magazine and start searching for another.
He glares at us with what little he’s got left. His words come out weak, slurred. “I will be back… for you, for everyone. Evil never dies.” Then he pushes off the ground, flying weakly off into the distance.
By the time I lock the magazine in , he’s out of range. Miguel grabs my wrist. “He’s going back home, back through the portal. He will heal himself with new souls. We must go back to the graveyard now. Close the portal. Lock him on the other side. I can do it.”
I stare at Miguel then look up once more as Balzuzu fades in the distance. That fucker killed my brother, destroyed my town, and threatened to wipe mankind from existence. ‘I will be back,’ he said . Those words mull around in my noggin. Fuck that! We hurt him good, but not good enough. I have to make sure he never comes back, that he never can come back. I have to put him down for good. For my brother, for Los Agros, and for the world.
“Fine,” I say to Miguel. “We’ll go back to the portal. We’ll close it. But first I have some things to get and some things to do.”
Miguel looks at me with a worried expression, as if he can read my mind. “What are you thinking, Silas? Where are you going?”
I look at him with pure determination in my eye. Then I answer. “ I’m thinking this isn’t over. I’m going to Hell to kill him once and for all.”
Chapter 19
Miguel and I are in the basement of the house I grew up in, or as Pa calls it ‘the Hill family arsenal’. Over the years we’ve compiled enough weapons to fully stock a small army. Easily more than enough firepower to overthrow a third world country. We obtained much of it through less than legal means, but Sheriff Martaan never cared because on days like this, when the world we lived in went to shit, Martaan knew he was going to need all the help he could get. I can tell by the empty spaces on the racks that my pa and Martaan came here first and took as much as they could carry to properly arm the townsfolk. They took a lot of stuff, but not all. There are still plenty of goodies left to choose from.
Before we came here , Martaan assured us he could handle things until the military arrived. Pa was unconscious but alive. A medical technician was checking his vitals, told us he’d live. My pa’s as tough a man as you’ll find. Even the beating he took from Balzuzu wasn’t enough to make this a good day for him to die. I caught a glimpse of Silver Joe and Rebel too. Joe wasn’t moving
He’s a shell of himself, the left side of his body fully exposed, a collection of thick, fleshy muscle tissue hanging from charcoal bones. He’s hemorrhaging fluid everywhere, as if he was drowning in a sea of his own black blood. His right arm is hanging useless, broken like a toy doll whose arm was twisted backwards from the elbow down. His once terrifying goat face no longer has a bottom jaw. His remaining horn is a jagged stump. Syrupy ooze drips from his eye sockets. But still he sees us. He makes it two steps forward before dropping to one knee.
“I will kill you both. Slowly. Painfully. I will imprison your souls for eternity. I will fill your infinite death with a thousand forms of torture. I will—”
I reload a brand new clip and hold down the trigger until every bullet lodges into whatever’s left of his face. The barrage of incendiary lead chips away his teeth. His agonizing shrill scream becomes a choking gurgle as spongy pieces of his foul tongue dislodge and slip down his throat.
“Now that’s what I call opening up a can of shut the fuck up,” I say proudly.
Still, the fucker lives. I discharge the empty magazine and start searching for another.
He glares at us with what little he’s got left. His words come out weak, slurred. “I will be back… for you, for everyone. Evil never dies.” Then he pushes off the ground, flying weakly off into the distance.
By the time I lock the magazine in , he’s out of range. Miguel grabs my wrist. “He’s going back home, back through the portal. He will heal himself with new souls. We must go back to the graveyard now. Close the portal. Lock him on the other side. I can do it.”
I stare at Miguel then look up once more as Balzuzu fades in the distance. That fucker killed my brother, destroyed my town, and threatened to wipe mankind from existence. ‘I will be back,’ he said . Those words mull around in my noggin. Fuck that! We hurt him good, but not good enough. I have to make sure he never comes back, that he never can come back. I have to put him down for good. For my brother, for Los Agros, and for the world.
“Fine,” I say to Miguel. “We’ll go back to the portal. We’ll close it. But first I have some things to get and some things to do.”
Miguel looks at me with a worried expression, as if he can read my mind. “What are you thinking, Silas? Where are you going?”
I look at him with pure determination in my eye. Then I answer. “ I’m thinking this isn’t over. I’m going to Hell to kill him once and for all.”
Chapter 19
Miguel and I are in the basement of the house I grew up in, or as Pa calls it ‘the Hill family arsenal’. Over the years we’ve compiled enough weapons to fully stock a small army. Easily more than enough firepower to overthrow a third world country. We obtained much of it through less than legal means, but Sheriff Martaan never cared because on days like this, when the world we lived in went to shit, Martaan knew he was going to need all the help he could get. I can tell by the empty spaces on the racks that my pa and Martaan came here first and took as much as they could carry to properly arm the townsfolk. They took a lot of stuff, but not all. There are still plenty of goodies left to choose from.
Before we came here , Martaan assured us he could handle things until the military arrived. Pa was unconscious but alive. A medical technician was checking his vitals, told us he’d live. My pa’s as tough a man as you’ll find. Even the beating he took from Balzuzu wasn’t enough to make this a good day for him to die. I caught a glimpse of Silver Joe and Rebel too. Joe wasn’t moving
Similar Books
