APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead (60 page)

“Basil is a hybrid of humans and dogs...from what the aliens told me. They said that many centuries ago their race did all sorts of experiments with human
genomes; fortunately they saw the error of their ways and repented to Yah. According to them Yah forgave but left the Anubis in Egypt.”

Arnaud nodded. “Do you know the Egyptian legend of mummies?”

“Of course I do, Boris Karloff and the whole bit.”

“Zombies…early, regal zombies are all they really were. Puppets really, but they could not fulfill their duties in the presence of a
n Anubis.” said the monk.

“So Basil may be a key to all this?”

The monk spread his hands before him, “Possibly. Egyptian mythology is full of alien astronaut theories.”

“I’ve heard,”
Arlington replied.

“Have you heard that the Great Pyramid of Giza has no hieroglyphics at all and that no bodies have ever been found within it?” asked the monk.

“Yeah…I heard there was something about it being used to make hydrogen.”

“Yes, you are well informed, Mr. Neff,” commented Father Arnaud.

Arlington shook his head, “Not really, I’m tryin’ to figure things out, but I’m not doin’ a very good job.”

“Only God knows everything.”

“I could use some of that knowledge, it’d really be helpful.”

“These are uncertain times; however I can tell you that there is a gate to another world, probably the world that your ship is from.”

“That function of the ship doesn’t work anymore,” explained Arlington.

“This is a gate that is not of the ship. And…here in
Bermuda we know a lot about Haitian zombies and their lore. According to their tradition, a sort of ‘zombie king’ taught them how to raise and control the dead.”

Arlington
snorted. “A zombie king, are you kidding me?”

The monk smiled. “The dead that controls the dead
is
a king of sorts.”

“So if this zombie king is dead too, then who controls the king?”

“I think you know that already,” answered the monk.

“I really don’t,” admitted
Arlington.

“You realize that this is not his first attempt to bring forth a plague upon this world, don’t you?” Arnaud said, ignoring what he knew to be false.

“There have been all kinds of plagues over the years,” Arlington said.

“But only two have originated in
Haiti; this one and the AIDS virus. Unfortunately, this plague worked far better than its predecessor. The first attempt did not originate from monkeys, but of zombies in voodoo rituals.”

“Are you telling me they had sex with the dead?”
Arlington asked in disgust.

“Maybe or maybe the virus came about by these zombies coming in contact by other physical means. It could have been bacteria, viral, magic, evil…call it whichever you prefer, but only God and Lucifer know for sure.”

Arlington was silent as he processed the information. He looked back at the monk and said, “Lucifer is the master of the dead king.”

The monk nodded. “Of course he is.”

“So where’s this gate?”

“The crystal skulls need to be taken through the gate; the Anubis as well,” said the monk getting up from the desk and walking to a shelf of books and several wooden boxes.

“I'm goin' with him,” Arlington corrected, but the monk shook his head.

“There may be no return if you do.”

“Where is the gate?” Arlington repeated.

             
The monk opened one of the boxes and withdrew a scroll, yellow and brown from the years, and handed it to Arlington. He had something else in his hand; it was a small golden ring.

“Give this to the Anubis. It probably has no use, but he lost it long ago.” Father Arnaud placed the ring in
Arlington’s hand. “This is all we can do for you.”

“Thanks Father,”
Arlington said and removed the pack from his back. He handed the monk a phone.

“We have no electricity, my son.”

“It has a hand crank charger. It’s a satellite phone; keep it in case you need us for anything. My number is the only one programmed in there. Just turn it on and press one.”

Arlington
didn’t think the monk was going to accept it, but eventually he did. “God speed, child.”

Arlington
walked to the door then turned back. “Just out of curiosity, how is it that a man of God knows so much about Egyptian mythology?”

Arnaud smiled brightly, “Mon fils, Christ was not only the Son of God, but a carpenter as well....we all have hobbies.”

              The monk rang a bell and returned to the opposite section of the room and gazed out one of the long narrow windows. Father Arnaud looked upon the silver disk shining bright in the sky as it hung suspended by invisible cords; he knew this to be the case because all men were puppets to one master or another.

                                              
Chapter 72 - The last supper

Ten months after infection

Easter Island 

“I think I’m going to sleep here tonight,” Arlington said to Juanita.

“Then so will I,” she said.

Arlington smiled gratefully. He was glad she was here and was his. In the old world the two of them would have looked like a freak show; a dwarf and a one-handed man, but here and now none of that mattered, they were among friends. He walked to where Basil reclined behind the control cuffs. The Anubis stretched with a wide yawn and noticed Arlington standing there then looked away feigning disinterest. Arlington held out the ring, the light catching on its smooth surface and glinting drawing the Anubis’s attention. Basil’s eye widened in apparent surprise.

“Where did you get that?” asked the Anubis.

“The monks had it. They wanted me to give it to you. Were you in an eighties hair band or something?” Arlington jibed him.

Basil stared at the golden hoop with a wistful expression that
Arlington would not have thought possible. “I haven’t seen that for…” he stopped and Arlington wasn’t sure if the pause was because he was trying to remember how long it had been or if the Anubis had gotten emotional; with Basil, it was hard to tell. “Will you put that in my left ear for me?”

Arlington
knelt down and fished the hoop through a small hole in the peak of the Anubis’s left ear. He squeezed the hoop shut with his thumb and forefinger and stepped back admiring how the gold contrasted against the satin black of Basil’s fur.

“Very regal,” commented
Arlington without sarcasm.

The Anubis gazed proudly at them with his one crimson eye
.

Nita walked to them at smiled at Basil. “I’m going to go get Laptu, Death and
Nan. I think they would like to stay with us tonight too.”

“I should have picked you up a fancy collar to wear to dinner,”
Arlington said as he watched Nita exit the ship.

“I believe I will have fish,” Basil said as if he were looking at a menu.

“Excellent choice, monsieur,” Arlington said in a horrible fake French accent that sounded more like Swedish than anything.

“Your impressions leave something to be desired,” Basil said with a twitch of the ears.

They were a motley group of friends; a Sasquatch, a one eyed Anubis, along with a long haired metal head, a biracial genius, a Hispanic dwarf and a one-handed hillbilly that sat around the table talking, eating, laughing and loving each other as only friends can. Words of devotion did not have to be said because those testaments were written in their smiles.
Arlington raised his glass of water. “To the Guardian,” he said looking at Basil.

“To a nap,” Basil said in a tired but contented voice as he wrapped his long black fingers around his glass.

Nan raised her glass. “To us.”

“To us,” agreed Death and he scanned the faces he had come to trust.

“Babies!” howled Laptu as he lightly petted Juanita’s long brown hair affectionately.

“Oh, what the hell…to babies,” Juanita said, smiling up at the big ape, then looking over the rim of her glass at Arlington, who shifted nervously when he saw her dark eyes lock on his with …with what? Something, of that he was sure, aside from that he had no idea, but he was helpless to stop his face from turning red. There were times when he still missed the liquid courage that he had used as a mask for so long.

They brought their glasses together with a crystalline clink and drank as Basil lapped happily from his glass.

The next morning a heavy shroud of sadness took the place of the cheer of the night before, but Basil paced before his friends with nervous excitement.

Nan
reached up and wrapped her arms around his satin black neck and squeezed him so hard that Death feared that if the Anubis hadn't been such a physical specimen she might have broken his ribs. Basil had never been particularly fond of being held, as he had been confined in this ship for long enough, and being held made him feel claustrophobic, but he allowed it and even relished the affection. She smoothed his ebony fur with her free hand and kissed the top of one of his hands as she pulled away.

“I’ll miss you, Mr. Fluffy pants,”
Nan said with trembling lips.

Arlington
raised an eyebrow as he tried valiantly to restrain any acerbic comments to Basil. Juanita glanced up and saw his crooked grin spread across his face as he mouthed the words, “Mr.
Fluffypants
?” and she elbowed Arlington in the hip. Although none of the others had known it, Nan had called him that since their first night. Basil had insisted that she not call him that in front of the others, but this time, this
last
time he smiled his toothy canine grin. She turned and hurried away, already crying.

Death watched her go then held out a hand. Basil took it solemnly. “Thanks for…” he remembered the scene at the Greenbrier. He knew now that without Basil and his silver ship he would have lost his precious
Nan. “…for everything.” The Anubis met his eyes for a moment, closed them, reopened them, in silent acknowledgment before shaking Death's hand firmly and then walked to Juanita. Death followed after Nan to console her and let her console him as well.

Basil crouched down, his breath hot on Juanita's face. She pulled the Anubis close. “Good luck, Basil.” She looked troubled, her brow creased with lines and the Anubis placed the pal
ms of his hands on her cheeks; golden bangles chiming from his wrists.

“You take care of these people,” he told her, “especially the hillbilly. He loves you, you know?”

She hugged the Anubis holding him tightly beneath her chin, feeling his fur tickle the skin at her ear, then let him go.

Laptu snatched the Anubis from the floor in his huge arms as the Anubis gave a loud grunt. Laptu began to wail like a baby. Basil didn’t resist, he had known Laptu the longest of any of them and even though the yeti was not exceptionally intelligent, his loyalty and heart was unrivaled by another. “Dog!” cried Laptu then lowered Basil gently to the floor before thundering away, his heels slamming on the floor out of the ship where he howled inconsolably.

“Hey, buddy,” Arlington said.

“Don’t call me
buddy
,” grumbled the Anubis. “It's undignified.”

Arlington
patted his friend on the back affectionately. “One more flight, Basil,” he said, then retrieved the scroll.

A wax seal, brown in color that had once been red as blood, held the brittle paper rolled closed. He broke the seal and unrolled it as if he were reading a king’s decree. He placed it before the Anubis and held it for him so that it wouldn’t roll back up. The Anubis studied it. “It should be easy enough.”

“For you maybe,” Arlington said with heaviness in his heart.

“Are the skulls ready?” Basil asked

Arlington pointed with a nod. “They’re in the duffel bag by the ramp.”

“I’m ready then,” Basil said with an air of anticipation. His voice wavered in its excitement, but his one scarlet eye held steady. The light of the morning caught the earring and it shined brightly in the sun. “Would you do me a favor,
Arlington?”

“Anything, old buddy.”

“Have Death Wagon fix those tattoos for you; they are simply atrocious.”

Arlington
smiled and looked at the scrawled lines of ink on his exposed arms then shook his head; he was really going to miss his friend.

“No, seriously, they are terrible.”

Arlington rubbed his arm self-consciously and his smile faltered for a moment. “Uh…ok…”

Basil turned his head away. “I’ll be waiting to see you when it’s your time, Hillbilly.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, fleabag.”

The Anubis chuffed happily.