Bad Jack ((Ascension: Book 1)) (27 page)

The Hidden Danger

Melanie was the first to react. She ran to Jack and helped steady him on his feet.

He was naked as the day he was born, his shed-off clothes were nowhere in sight.

The carpet was covered in loose, thick ashes.

The death ball dropped harmlessly to the floor.

She walked Jack over to the couch and eased him into it.

Daniel came forward with a light blanket for him to cover himself with.

He looked exhausted beyond belief.

Melanie
said to Oliver, "What the hell did we miss?"

"I think it just happened. I think
he spoke to our angel."

Jack nodded when all eyes fell on him.

Daniel said to Jack, “One second I was backing away from that ball and the next it was on the floor and you were standing in a totally different spot, surrounded by ash and fully naked. Is that supposed to happen?”

Oliver answered for him, “How the hell would he know? This is all just as new to him as it is to us.”

Daniel asked pointedly, “So does our savior reside within you or did you tell him no?”

"Give him some time,
" Oliver said when Jack paused too long.

Melanie dabbed cold, wet washcloths to
Jack's brow; he was burning up.

After several intense minutes passed, the tension had to be broken.

Daniel asked again, "So did it work?"

Jack
paused, mulling his answer over before responding. "I just couldn't do it. He would have taken away our free will. He would have interfered too much."

Daniel said in disgust, “So all those years of hoping and researching and planning for his arrival were thwarted because you didn’t like how much he cared? Are you retarded or something? He’s the God we all deserve. This was supposed to happen. He was supposed to convince you.”

Jack said, “I know. I’m sorry." Then he locked eyes with Daniel and said evenly, "You're going to have to let it go. You failed. Deal with it."

Daniel nodded slowly
, defeat overtaking his features. Finally, he walked from the room with his head bowed low.

Melanie wrapped Jack in a hug.

She whispered, “I told you I’d love you no matter what, and I do.”

Oliver shook his head in disbelief and then followed after Daniel.
Just before he was out of earshot he said, "I'm so sorry for everything you've had to endure Jack. But it's over now. Your life will return to the way it was, I'm sure. It's too bad though, Lucifer could have done great things for us."

Jack smiled
broadly at Oliver's back as he exited.

He spotted the red ball sitting atop the pile of ashes. H
e leaned forward and picked it up. He tossed it from one hand to the other, staring at it intently the entire time.

Finally, he stopped playing with the ball and said, "Listen, I want to see Jessie. A father should be there for his son."

"Of course, of course. He might be asleep, let me check first."

Before she stood up, she asked
, "So do you think he's trapped in hell forever now?"

"I sure hope so. We'd better all hope he never escapes."

The End

For more by Adam Moon, check out:

If you'd like to be notified of upcoming projects or if you just want to say hi, drop me a line at:

(
[email protected]
)

The sequel is titled Jack's Back. A small sample is on the next few pages.

Or you can buy it on Amazon here:

Jack's Back

Jack fell flat on his face, wheezing. Thick white smoke trailed out of his mouth as he exhaled. His skin tingled. He stood up, barely comprehending where he was and why he was naked.

He brushed at his charred flesh. The pain failed to register. Thick ashes fell away from his body and gathered at his feet in large clumps. He started to feel better.

He noticed a baseball sized red metallic sphere on the ground at his feet and he stooped to pick it up. As he touched it, he knew it was important, but he didn't know why or how. If only he had a pocket to put it in?

He knew he shouldn't be here, but where was he and where had he come from? His head ached too much; he couldn't concentrate. Maybe it would come to him later, and maybe not.

What he needed more than anything right now was clothing and a warm place to sit. The air was frigid and the sidewalk was glazed in ice. His hooves slipped out from under him as he tried to move.

He had a vague sense that where he'd come from was the opposite of this. He'd come from a hot place, and now he was freezing. He'd sell his soul for something right in between.

He looked around but his vision was swimming in and out making everything hazy. The icy air stung his eyes, causing further vision loss as the tears welled up.

He heard human voices, and they were screaming bloody murder. The screams were full of instinctive fear, revulsion, and awe. Or maybe his ears were going bad too?

He saw vague shapes moving quickly away from him.

He stumbled against a wall and used it to guide him as he made his way forward.

He needed clothes in the worst way, not because he cared about his public nudity of course. Screw what others thought of him. They were all lichen on the undersides of his hooves.

He would crush this world beneath his knees as he prayed to God for sweet release. The thought of God sent his fury twirling upwards, higher and higher, almost taking him with it.

But he had to take one thing at a time. He had to find some nice warm clothes.

He accidentally kicked something. It was heavy, and it was alive. It scurried forward again and bumped into his leg.

He bent over and stared at the creature. It was an arachnid of some sort, or maybe a crustacean but it was distinctly different in that it had large mammalian eyes complete with thick long lashes and what appeared to be a tan, circumcised human penis dangling beneath its grotesque, spider-like body. It measured about two feet around and stood a foot tall.

Jack felt a sort of kinship or maybe an affection towards the creature. It was cute to him in the same way a puppy is cute to a teenage girl. He put a hand on it and it quivered in delight.

He cleared his throat and said, "Get me some clothing at once."

But his voice came out ferocious and coarse. It sounded like
, "Ghett mee summm clothesss aat wunnnssss."

The spider scurried off.

Jack stood where he was, knowing that the weird little creature would not fail him because it was here to serve him.

He heard screams again, but they were intermittent now, and more distant than before.

His vision was beginning to return. The world quickly came into sharp relief.

He was on a city street. Shops lined both sides and cars were parked up and down the otherwise deserted road.

He saw a fat woman running from a shop doorway up ahead and his blood boiled. He almost lost himself in the fury her presence brought but he was the master of himself, he controlled the beast inside, and allowed her to escape, even after she slipped on the ice and fell right on her fat, ugly ass.

He looked down at the iced over sidewalk. He noticed his bare legs were muscled and hairy and red. Instead of weak human pink feet, he walked on hooves,
black as tar. Each was as big as a canned ham. He stamped the ground with one and the windows of the shops rattled in their frames. It made him want to do it again but he controlled the urge.

He held a hand out and inspected it. Instead of fingers, he had muscular, heavily knuckled talons with black razor sharp claws at the ends. He flexed his fingers and smiled. He could do some damage with those fuckers.

He reached up and touched his own face. It felt leathery but it was difficult to discern features simply from touch alone. He turned about to look in a shop window and his reflection shone back from the glass. No wonder those people ran from him in fright; he was magnificent.

His entire body looked as though it was designed for
war. He was a mighty killing machine. His head was immense, eyes black as obsidian, teeth pointed for consumption of all that stood in his way, horns pointed forward, not for defense, but for mauling his victims. His skin, taut from breeching against the muscles fighting to burst out, was a deep crimson, dappled here and there with coarse black hairs. He was a physical specimen.

The sight of his own reflection sent a surge of adrenaline through him. Then he saw his tail and his heart sank. It was thin and feeble, with a little tuft of black fur at the end. Where was the musculature? Where were the razor sharp spikes? He reached back and grabbed it. It felt weak. He growled in a deep baritone.

Oh well, he thought, nothing's perfect.

He saw a whirl of motion moving down the street. It was a pile of clothes moving towards him. It bumped into his leg and then stopped.

Jack reached down and picked each article of clothing up to inspect. The spider had done well. Perhaps he'd let it live.

He pulled a large sweater over his head, careful not to destroy it with his horns. It clung to him tightly. He slipped a humungous pair of jeans on and then tucked his stupid fucking tail down one of the pant legs. He pulled a winter coat on and started to feel warm.

The spider scurried off once more. Jack checked himself out in the window again. He looked like a damn dork. The sweater had three snowmen on it, all wearing scarves of different colors. The jeans bulged out in all the wrong places and they were way too short. His body was not designed to be clothed. It was meant to be stared at in awe and fright, not covered up. But it was freezing so he had no choice.

The spider came back with a wood saw clutched between two of its thick legs. Jack picked the saw up and gave the spider a quizzical look. The spider ran up Jack's body, all the way up to his head, and then it pulled on his horns, as a sort of hint.

Jack guessed what it wanted him to do, but why? Why hide what he was from the world? Why be afraid of revealing his splendor to a weak, little planet full of pathetic creatures?

He had no memories, and that was what convinced him to trust the spiders judgment in the end; the spider knew more than he did.

He swatted the spider away and it clanged off the shop window to his right. It didn't seem too bothered by the rough treatment. Then Jack sawed at his horns with all of his might. He must have cut too close because there was a lot of blood when he was done, that was black and oily, and it stunk of smoke. Then again, the stink might have come from the friction burns he'd inflicted on his horns as he sawed away.

Each horn hit the sidewalk with a deafening thud. When he was done he let the saw fall from his grip.

He said to the spider in his deep ominous voice, "That better not have been for nothing."

The spider just stared up at him with its soulful, watery eyes. It was a look that made Jack's heart break. He bent down and put a hand on the spider. It quivered again and then it scurried off.

Jack picked up his horns and put one in each pants pocket. They might come in useful later as weapons.

Then he remembered the red ball he'd seen earlier. He must have dropped it at some point because it was resting on the ground a dozen feet behind him. He clopped over and retrieved it. Its dormant power coursed up his arm. The ball was important, he just didn't know why.