PCS to Eden – Evasion

“Is this going to work?” Gerry might have a plethora of new knowledge at his fingertips, but what he was seeing in front of him left him with a big question mark.

“Of course it’s going to work.” Vicky smiled, brimming with confidence.

Gaius muttered something under his breath from where he was standing behind them while his guards, now Gerry’s men, pulled three hundred and sixty degree security. The ancient general was still pissed that Gerry had usurped his poistion in the blink of an eye.

<That’s what happens when they see my star rising and yours falling.> Gerry had to keep an eye on his old teacher regardless. He’d been around the former Roman Legionnaire long enough to know how he operated.

Gaius would wait patiently, be a good soldier, and then strike when he thought his enemy was weak. Gerry fingered the miniaturized throne in his pocket just to reassure himself it was still there. He felt a shock run through him when his fingers touched the warm metal. Power pulsed in his pocket.

Gerry didn’t know the importance of thrones until he sat on one. They weren’t there to look pretty and be a comfy surface for a being of power to plop their ass on. Thrones served an important purpose. There was so much æther in the universe that it was simply too much for a creature to hold. Even the all-powerful, seven, original Primordials couldn’t hold all the æther connecting all things, so they created the tools needed to do it. Those were the thrones.

Thrones were part ætherial battery part magnet. They drew in power and stored it until their owner needed it, then dispensed it. They were all repositories of information, and had formidable defense protocols built into them, which Gerry had experienced firsthand. There was a reason even regular humans always talked about God’s throne in heaven, or the devil sitting on Hell’s throne. It was why monarchs, believing they were rulers by divine right, created their own thrones to sit upon. For many it was just a chair, but some of those old kings and queens had been witches and sorcerers, and their thrones had been literal seats of power.

Thrones were needed to rule. Only they could give the power for a single person to hold together a kingdom: human, Infernal, or Divine.

Seere’s throne was the throne of a Throne, a distributor of Divine justice. It was a powerful tool that Seere had tampered with when exiled to Hell. Now, it could collect and draw more power than any Throne’s throne, but at a price. That power needed to go somewhere. Essentially, Seere had removed the governor on his power source, and it needed to be dispersed before reaching critical mass. That was never a problem in Hell. Actually, it was an advantage. Seere had to expend power, and the result was the Elysian Fields. Possibly the most peaceful place in Hell compared to what some of the other Infernal Lords put their subjects through.

Gerry missed that. The feel of the grain on his hands as he walked through the field of his latifundium that Seere bestowed on him when he became an Infernal Knight. Gerry had only spent a few days there, but he had loved the place. It was that grain that sustained Seere’s armies, made them strong when others were weak. It was all possible through the throne.

It might be a strength in Hell, but on Earth it was going to become a problem. Gaius had led a small invasion that brought the Divine down into the city. They’d undoubtedly found the Guardians Gerry obliterated and were on the hunt for him. A throne that was building ætherial power that would need to be used sooner or later was a liability in their current environment.

All that was going through Gerry’s head as Vicky used her elbow to smash in the driver-side window of a car. She reached in, ignoring the glass that scraped against her hardened, Soulless skin, and unlocked the door. She searched underneath the protective mat, in the center console, and finally under the rearview mirror. A pair of keys dropped down when she pulled on the mirror, and Vicky easily caught them. She stuck them in the ignition and turned the key.

The beat up, imported junker rumbled to life with an exaggerated cough from the exhaust. Vicky shut the door behind her and leaned casually on the car with a smile. “I told you it would work.”

“Good.” Gerry looked behind him at their small contingent. “Now find me four more.”

It wasn’t hard to find abandoned vehicles after what had happened in Charlotte. Finding them with keys and fuel was the tricky business. Vicky and the Infernal guards must have smashed twenty windows to find five cars that worked, and then came problem number two. No one here, except Vicky, was under two hundred years old. Gaius comprised his personal guard of season soldiers of Hell. The youngest one present was a former French knight who’d fallen during the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. They knew how to ride horses and kill people, not drive a car.

Gerry searched for an answer, and found it in the likeliest of places. After all, thrones were as much a depository of information as a power source. “Watch my back.” He ordered Vicky quietly as he grasped the power in his pocket and sunk into it.

He felt the sensation of someone hooking him behind the navel with a harpoon used to kill whales before harvesting them for their blubber. The sensation was excruciatingly painful and made his eyes water, but that was the price for the information. <Pain, always pain.> Gerry would have to get used to that.

He descended down and down until he hit something hard. His knees buckled and he fell to his hands. The surface beneath them was clean and white, so white it hurt to look at. He looked up and saw more white and gold-trimmed shelves. On those shelves were leather-bound books encrusted with precious stones and metals.

<So this is what a depository of ætherial knowledge and power looks like?> Gerry looked around at a library that Liberachi would have designed.

From all around him a low grumbling answered his unasked question and the books began to shudder on their stacks. The throne’s library had heard him, and it didn’t like his tone.

“Sorry,” Gerry held up his hands defensively, and the rumbling stopped. “I need to find a spell.”

There was another painful yanking sensation and Gerry found himself standing in front of a cabinet made of exquisitely carved wood, and inlaid with ribbons of silver. DIRECTORY was written in cursive on a golden placard on top.

<I need to find what I’m looking for.> Gerry set himself to the task.

He was looking for what Prince Seere had done to him what felt like several lifetimes ago. After the Infernal Lord made Gerry a Dux, he gave him a mental upgrade. Gerry was an 18^th century man about to enter the twenty-first. He wasn’t equipped to deal with the world-altering leaps forward in society and technology. He would have stood out like a sore thumb and blown his cover before he found his demesne. Through the power of the æther, and a spell Gerry knew was in this vault of knowledge, Seere had downloaded information into Gerry’s mind. It wasn’t perfect. It was like seeing something or reading about it in a textbook versus seeing it in real life, but at least with this upgrade, a person wouldn’t be floundering and dragged under by culture shock.

What Seere had done for Gerry, now Gerry needed to do for Gaius and the Infernal guards. If they were going to survive, they couldn’t be gawking at buildings higher than five stories every time they passed one, or trying to figure out how to work a vending machine. It could get them all killed.

Gerry knew what he needed to do, the problem was finding it. <Come on…come on…> He felt the minutes ticking by as he searched the flawlessly-white index cards that showed where everything was. He thought he had it twice, but was wrong. The problem was that there was so much information it was hard to find exactly what you were looking for.

<I wonder if I could install a computer in here?> Gerry daydreamed as he flipped through cards in a blur until finally finding what he was looking for.

The card was a mix of numbers and symbols. Only the numbers were human. The symbols were Enochian, and although Gerry had never read a word of the Divine language before today, he understood it perfectly. He spoke where he wanted to be, and another tug took him to his destination. He wiped the tears from his eyes as the pain faded and looked up. He was in front of a shelve that looked like all the others. He double checked the alpha-numeric on the card, traced his fingers along the spines in front of him until he found the one that matched. He yanked it from the shelf and opened it.

The gold and jewel-encrusted cover wasn’t a cover at all. It was a holder. Inside the holder was a single set of preserved paper. On the paper was the spell he’d been looking for. The only problem was it was a lot more difficult than Gerry ever imagined.

The problem wasn’t going to be supplying the power for the spell, it was getting the measurement’s right. Prince Seere had made it look so easy, but now Gerry knew he’d done prep work. There was a delicate weight-to-power ratio that needed to be maintained. Too little and information transfer wouldn’t occur, or only partially occur with no telling what actually made it through. Too much, and the recipients brain would turn to ash.

Doubt crept into Gerry’s mind before he could push it away. He studied the paper, memorized it, placed it back in the cover, back on the shelf, and then asked to return to reality. He assumed the whole thing, start to finish, took him twenty minutes.

“Hello?” Vicky stuck her finger in Gerry’s face and he reacted instinctually.

His hand shot forward, grab the offending digit, and twisted. A sharp snap echoed as Vicky went down hard. Her mouth opened to cry out, but Gerry’s other hand slammed over her mouth. They couldn’t draw any unnecessary attention, and a Soulless who looked like a high school cheer captain surrounded by a bunch of older men in armor was going to draw all the wrong attention.

“What the fuck was that?” Vicky hissed when Gerry let her go, and she popped her finger back into place.

“Don’t ever stick your finger in my face again,” he snapped back. “I was only gone for twenty minutes, get used to me zoning out as I gather power and resources for our war.”

She didn’t even pretend to know what he’s talking about. “You were only out for two boss, and message received. I’ll keep my distance.” Something like hurt flashed through her eyes, but it was gone just as quick as it arrived.

“Armor off,” Gerry commanded. This time soldiers obeyed without hesitation even though it was the most ridiculous order yet. Without their armor they were vulnerable. “Put it in the pickup truck.” Gerry pointed to the F-150 they found with a mercifully-full tank of gas.

The men and a few women stripped out of the heavy Infernal Iron armor and the truck groaned as it was piled it its bed. With the task done, Gerry looked out over his small Infernal force. The men and women looked tired. Their linen undergarments, worn to keep the armor from chaffing, were yellowed with sweat and stank like Beelzebub’s asshole. There was even fear in their eyes. <The last soldiers of Seere.> Gerry shook his head at how far they’d fallen.

“Step forward one at a time.” There was hesitation at his command this time. Not from a willingness to disobey, but from fear. They knew he’s about to do something to them, but they didn’t know what.

“Yes, Lord Fuller.” A broad-shouldered, pleasant-faced woman stepped forward. She looked confined to her fate.

Gerry gave her the once over, using a trickle of power to help his assessment. He estimated her weight and figured that into his calculations. He hoped he was right. Being wrong could turn the small force against him on the spot. If he was forces to kill them all, he’d have nothing left to command. Failure wasn’t an option.

He summoned the required power and said the chant out loud. The spell in the ætherial library said it should be spoken mentally by a master, but Gerry wasn’t a master. He’d never done anything like this before, only had it done to him. He finished the chant, felt the power build in his palm, and slammed it into the woman’s forehead.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, but she didn’t scream. Her body trembled, and she pitched backward like a felled tree. Gaius caught her and gently laid her on the ground, where she continued to shake.

Gerry saw the thoughts going through Gaius’ mind. He knew this was his chance to regain control. Gerry had just killed one of his own soldiers. Gaius would be able to rally the remaining men based on what they’d been through in Hell and getting here. He would use them to take down Gerry, steal the throne, and take his place as a new Infernal Lord.

He was opening his mouth to declare Gerry a murdering tyrant when the woman’s eyes snapped open, and she inhaled like a person who’d nearly drowned. “Fuck me!” Her whole body shuddered; she blinked like she was trying to clear something from her eyes, and kept shaking her head.

“It’ll pass.” Gerry gave her a smile for being the first volunteer, surviving, and inadvertently stopping a coup.

“Yeah,” the woman was helped to her feet by Gaius, who stepped forward as the next candidate.

<Smart.> Gerry stared at the man who repeatedly killed him in training back in Hell. <He knows the spell works, and if I kill him now it will sow the seeds of doubt in the minds of the legionnaires.> Gerry could kill him, but that was thinking short term. Gaius could do some good in Gerry’s long term plan before he had to eliminate the old general.

Gerry repeated the process with Gaius and the remaining Infernal guards. One by one, they fell to the ground and rose as twenty-first century educated men and women. Gerry knew firsthand there was still a lot to learn, but they knew the basics.

“We need to move.” The whole deal only lasted fifteen minutes, but the sounds of intense battle were ebbing in the distance. Soon the victorious angels would come for their fallen, and Gerry didn’t want to be anywhere near them when it happened.

They loaded up their five-car caravan and started heading out of the city. Vicky drove the lead car with Gerry in the passenger seat. Gaius followed in the car behind, and the rest of the guards fit where they could. The few unlucky ones ended up in the back of the truck with the armor.

Gerry knew he should apologize to Vicky for breaking her finger, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She couldn’t be acting like the lieutenant back before Charlotte became a warzone. There was no room for mistakes.

“How long until we arrive?” he asked instead.

“The refugee camp is north of the city, just outside Mooresville. We’ll be there in thirty unless the roads have been destroyed and I need to find a detour.” She kept her eyes on the road and Gerry simply nodded.

He took the time to figure out his next move. It didn’t take a strategic genius to understand he was up shit’s creek without a canoe. His force consisted of a dozen or so Soulless and just as many Infernals whose power was waning. He had the throne, and the library to rectify some of those issues, but he still needed manpower, supplies, and a goal.

Manpower was going to be tough. He needed to gather all the Infernally-aligned forces in the city under his banner. Only then would they stand a chance against the Divine. <I need to see who survived.> The most powerful Infernals left were his old lieutenants. He’d need to see what intel Vicky had on them.

Supplies were going to be tougher. He guessed he would be able to make Infernal Iron just like other Infernal Lord’s, with the help of the library, but he had no idea what that would cost him. The more pressing matters were food and shelter. The refugee camp was only going to work for so long. He needed a new base of operations, a new demesne to establish his seat of power and move forward with his ultimate goal.

<Study the past. Do not make the same mistakes that I did. See the truth. See what happens to those my Father called family. Search for a new solution to this eons-old problem, you will know it when you see it, and take your rightful place in the pantheon of power.> The words of Seere’s spectre resonated in Gerry’s mind. None of this ultimately mattered if there was no game plan to take on the big guy, and he’d need more firepower then a few Infernal lieutenants and a handful of Soulless.

He let his thoughts consume him as they pushed north on I-77. Traffic was thick with eighteen wheelers carrying supplies, military vehicles returning to the Forward Operating Base set up outside town, and scared civilians fleeing the latest battles.

Gerry and his small band of misfits blended right in.

Previous                                                          Next