Heaven Bent (6 page)

*****

We landed at the base of the dome, on the side nearest the jungle. We dismounted Thundercloud, and the masked man led her to a hiding place in the dense foliage. "Stay right here, girl." He patted Thundercloud's head affectionately. "We'll be back in a little while."

Thundercloud bobbed her head and made a loud purring sound in her throat.

Then the masked man strode out of the jungle and marched straight for the dome.

I fell right in beside him. "No fences to keep people out, I see."

"Because no one wants to go inside, most of the time," said the masked man. "Not many people even know it's here."

The dome seemed even more vast from the ground, blotting out everything that lay beyond it. I felt strange as we approached it--shaky and queasy--though I wasn't sure if it was something the dome was doing or just my own fear at the ominous sight.

"So what exactly
is
this place?" I asked. "What happens here?"

"You'll find out." The masked man walked up to the dome and touched the glossy black surface. Leaning close, he seemed to listen for a moment, then moved along, skimming the wall with his fingertips.

Gazing up as I followed, I marveled at the immensity of the thing. It seemed too huge and perfect to be manmade--more like a natural landmark or something divinely created. "Awful big to be a freakin' metaphor, if you ask me," I said.

The masked man shushed me and kept skirting the base of the dome. He stopped again, continued onward--then did the same thing several more times.

Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for. At one stopping point, he placed both hands and his forehead against the dome. He stayed like that a long moment, then stepped back.

"Right here." He nodded and pointed. "They left the door open a crack for us."

I moved closer, squinting. "I don't see a crack," I said. "And 'they' who?"

"I was speaking figuratively." The masked man fished around in his jacket pocket for something. "And 'they' are friends of mine."

I hiked a thumb at the dome wall. "You have friends on the inside?"

"Never you mind." He pulled out a black leather drawstring pouch. "Assume we're on our own from here on out." Loosening the drawstring, he opened the pouch and poured out the contents.

What looked like dozens of squirming, glowing maggots trickled into the palm of his gloved hand.

I scowled at them. "So what are these things supposed to do?"

The masked man pocketed the pouch, then pinched some of the maggots from the pile in his hand. He sprinkled them on the dome wall--and they stuck. "Maggots eat dead things." He sprinkled more on the wall. "And that's all this dome is--dead tissue. Mummified, like. Created by a process of controlled growth, rot, and dehydration." He kept applying the tiny, glowing worms to the dome in a roughly rectangular area. They immediately set to work chewing and burrowing, glowing brighter all the time. "It's the perfect meal for these special little souped up maggots. With the right crack in the door, they can dig in and really go to town."

As I watched, the tiny creatures wriggled back and forth, tunneling into and out of the black substance of the dome. They moved faster and faster, zipping around like meteors ricocheting in the night sky.

Within moments, pieces of the wall started dissolving, leaving pits and gaps in the surface. Then, all at once, the entire rectangular section melted away like ice under a sudden blast of heat.

"Pretty cool, huh?" The masked man chuckled.

I just shook my head and stared. "Amazing is more like it."

"Glad you like 'em, thanks." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Thank you very much."

Yet again, I was struck by how familiar his voice sounded--though I couldn't quite figure out why.

"Let's go." He started through the opening in the wall, gesturing for me to follow. "Time's a-wastin'."

*****

The masked man and I ran through a network of hallways glowing with dim red light. Though he didn't carry a map, he always seemed to know where he was going. Maybe he was tapping into the place somehow; every so often, he paused, touched the walls, and closed his eyes--then started moving again, turning right-left-right or whatever without hesitation.

It wasn't hard to believe he could commune with Heavenless, that it had some kind of mind. The corridors looked organic--smooth and tubular, like the inside of blood vessels in a body. They were gray, not red, which made sense if the place was made of mummified tissue...but they definitely looked like they'd once been alive.

Not to mention, I was still getting a weird vibe, weirder than ever. From the moment I stepped inside, the queasiness and shakiness spiked and never subsided. So maybe there was some kind of life force at work in there, and it was pushing my damn buttons big time.

Or maybe it was just that I was totally lost and disoriented and had no idea what mess we were heading for. The fact that I'd recently died and been put through the wringer ever since might have had something to do with it, too.

Boy, did I need a break from Heaven.

"Hold up!" After a while, he finally stopped at a junction of corridors. He placed an index finger to his lips, signaling silence, then leaned out into the junction for a look--first right, then left. "This way." Slowly, he moved out to the left, waving for me to come with him.

We followed the tunnel a short distance--thirty yards, maybe forty--staying low and quiet the whole way. At that point, we reached another junction and turned right. This put us in a short tube dead-ending in a glossy black panel.

We crept forward even more cautiously. When we reached the panel, he pulled another drawstring pouch from his pocket.

"This is it," he said, opening the pouch. "Now, when we get inside, stay back and stay quiet, no matter what. Understand?"

I frowned and nodded.

"Because what you're about to see is gonna turn things upside-down, man. It's gonna flip your wig." Sticking three fingers into the pouch, he drew out what looked like a glowing green garter snake. "So you gotta promise you'll keep your head in there."

"Maybe if you just
tell
me what to expect..."

"Gotta see it to believe it, man." With that, he turned away and held the snake against the edge of the black panel. He pressed the head to the surface at eye-level, then stretched out the rest of its sixteen-inch length along the seam. When he pulled his hands away, the snake remained firmly in place.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then, the masked man squished the middle of the snake's body with his thumb, splitting it in two.

The top half of the snake slid upward, while the bottom half headed for the floor. As the two halves slipped along the seam, they left smoking, bubbling trails in the glossy black substance.

When the halves reached the very top and bottom of the panel, they fell away. The masked man kicked them aside, then reached out and pushed the panel with his fingertips. It swung freely inward.

As soon as we edged through the doorway, I was struck by waves of intense heat. It wasn't hard to see what the source was.

We were standing along the wall of a big room with a huge furnace roaring away in the middle. It looked like it was made of the same black material as the dome and the door we'd just come through.

Not that that seemed to matter much just then. My eyes went straight to the open door of the furnace and what was being pushed through it.

Four bald men (in black uniforms this time, not white) were hoisting a stretcher into the furnace's fiery maw. A stretcher with someone strapped to it.

Someone I knew.

Even from a distance, I spotted his unmistakable blue military jacket with the gold epaulets. His arms were tied down, his spangly white gloves strapped at his sides.

The tips of his glittering silver shoes blazed with orange firelight as the men pushed him into the furnace.

M.J. They were burning M.J. in a furnace.

Remembering my orders, I fought to keep myself from reacting...even as two questions raced through my mind like bullets.

Since when do they cremate people in Heaven?

And how can we get M.J. out of there before he goes up in smoke?

*****

 

Chapter
5

The four bald men in black uniforms slid M.J.'s stretcher into the mouth of the incinerator. His sparkly shoes went in first, licked by the leaping orange flames.

The masked man turned and grabbed my arm. "I'm gettin' him outta there, man. You feel up to it, you're welcome to join me." And then he let go and ran off, his dark-clad form silhouetted in the dancing firelight.

That left me with two choices: stand there and do nothing, or literally help pull my buddy M.J.'s ass out of the fire. In other words, there was no choice at all.

I'd been feeling shaky and off-balance since entering the black dome of Heavenless, but I'd have to push past it. Taking a deep breath, I charged after the masked man.

He got to the uniformed thugs before me and immediately went to work on the two closest ones. Instead of pulling a gun or some kind of weaponized lifeform, he used straight-up karate, chopping one guy in the throat, then launching a spinning kick at his buddy's head.

Meanwhile, one of the other two guys bolted in my direction, leaving one still pushing M.J. into the oven.

I stopped in my tracks and bobbed my head to one side, cracking my neck. Sizing up my opponent.

Smoothly, I shifted into an appropriate fighting stance. I'm not talking about made-up stances, either; as part of my fitness regimen, I've trained intensively in Muay Thai, Wing Chun, Krav Maga, and a dozen other martial arts systems.

Not to mention, I'm in great shape overall. Working out is a big part of my day--
was
before I died, that is. You've got to stay fit if you want to keep starring in multimillion-dollar tentpole pictures on the big screen.

So was I worried about the goon barreling toward me? He was big, with fists clenched and face crumpled in a ferocious scowl. He looked like he could tear me apart and do the same to three other guys at the same time.

But two Krav Maga moves later, he was on his back on the floor with the wind knocked out of him.
Never mess with an action star, pal!

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling so shaky anymore.

Sprinting past him toward the oven, I stole a glance in the masked man's direction. He'd taken out one of his opponents, but the other knew some martial arts and was making it interesting. The masked man's kick was blocked, the same happened to a chop--but the chop was a feint, followed by a punishing gut punch that doubled over his uniformed enemy.

As that battle continued, I got hold of the end of the stretcher and hauled M.J. back out of the oven. But the last guy with hands on the stretcher wrenched it back in again, further than ever. I could see I was going to have to force him out of the picture.

Springing around the stretcher, I plowed a Muay Thai kick into the guy's side, blowing him backward. When he hit the superheated skin of the incinerator, he screamed and lurched away from it, right into the path of a Krav Maga palm heel strike to the face.

As he fell away from me, I grabbed M.J.'s stretcher and yanked it all the way out of the oven. He was singed, and his once-sparkly shoes were charred and smoldering, but that was the worst of it.

I quickly pulled the shoes off him and tossed them aside, then turned to the cords that bound his arms to the stretcher. The masked man reached the other side at the same time and started in on the bindings there.

Once we'd gotten his arms free, he sat up fast. While we scrambled to untie his legs, he pulled the red rubber ball gag out of his mouth and threw it aside with a vengeance. "Bleahh!" He grimaced, spit, and wiped his mouth. "That thing tasted so
bad
!"

Just as I finished with the last knots on my side of the stretcher, the first thug I'd fought rose from the floor. Without giving him time for a full recovery, I charged over and bombarded him with a flurry of pressure-point blows straight out of hardcore Russian
Systema
fighting. The rapid-fire strikes stunned him, leaving him an easy target for a Taekwondo kick to the chest.

He toppled facedown to the floor like a chainsawed tree and hit with a thump.

"Not bad, Stag!" M.J. grinned as he swung his shoeless feet off the stretcher. Laughing, he pulled off his sooty white socks and pitched them in the oven. "I didn't know you were such a great fighter!"

I laughed back at him. "I learned it all from watching your music videos." My heart was pounding, my nerves were buzzing, my breathing was fast. My head felt clearer than it had since I'd first arrived in Heaven.

Was it the violence, the physical release? Or did it have to do with taking action, real action, after being led around by the nose for so long?

Whatever it was, I wanted more of it. And it looked like I was about to get it.

"Time to move on." The masked man nodded once and headed for the door. "We still have that
package
to pick up."

"I know just where it is." M.J. hopped off the stretcher and hurried ahead of us. "Follow me." He shot a look back over his shoulder in my direction. "And be ready to use those mad
fighting skills
of yours."

*****

 

M.J. led us briskly through the maze of gray corridors as if he knew them by heart. He lightly brushed his fingertips along the fossilized walls like a kid running his hand along a chain link fence.

He might have been dead, but his footsteps were just as nimble as when he'd been alive. Watching him glide through the halls of that sinister place, feet occasionally flickering with the flourish of a dance step, was like watching him roam through a music video.

He looked better than he had in a long time, I thought. Heaven seemed to have been good to him.

Then why was he part of a revolution to overthrow it? Why had he joined the Heaven Liberation Front?

"It's showtime." M.J. stopped at a black door, a featureless surface made of the same smooth material as the dome of Heavenless. "When we get inside, stay close."

The masked man used the same trick he'd used to open the door to the incinerator room--a glowing green snake pressed into the seam and pinched in two. Half the snake slid upward, secreting a substance that melted the upper seal, while the other half melted open the bottom seal. When the two halves of the snake finished and fell away, the door swung inward at a light touch from M.J.

As he led us through the doorway, we found ourselves in a huge chamber lined with oval pods giving off an indigo glow. There were layers of them all the way to the distant ceiling--six layers of tightly packed pods encircling the vast space.

In the middle of the chamber, a spindle of instrumentation towered from floor to ceiling, studded with lights that blinked with all the colors of the rainbow. The spindle was in constant motion, its various bulbs and sections turning in different directions at all times.

"This is it." M.J. spread his arms to take it all in. "Time to take back what's ours."

"You said it, brother." The masked man clapped him on the back. "Now we better make it snappy."

"Too true." M.J. snapped up on his toes, let out a little whoop, then sprang forward and flashed through the chamber. He moved so fast, we had to run to keep up with him.

As the three of us passed the high tech spindle, it shot out a long arm tipped with some kind of triple-lensed scope. The scope followed us the rest of the way, but M.J. and the masked man didn't seem to be worried.

We finally stopped on the far side of the chamber, opposite the door where we'd entered. M.J. marched up to one of the indigo-glowing pods and pressed his hands against it, peering inside through an eye-level window.

"Good news." He turned and nodded. "The package is still here."

The masked man reached into the pouch where he kept his handy door-opening creatures. "Then just let me--"

"No need." M.J. shrugged and punched a button on the pod. Instantly, the front panel rolled away, sliding into the left side of the framework. "Nobody ever gets this far, so there's no security on the individual cells."

Just as he said it, the lights in the chamber all flashed red, and a shrill siren pierced the air, emitting an ear-blasting, high-pitched whine.

"Okay." M.J. grinned sheepishly. "
Almost
no security."

"We've got to
move
!" The masked man lunged past him into the pod and reached for its contents. When he emerged, he brought out what looked like a mummy--a human form wrapped in white bandages.

"Who is it?" I shouted over the siren.

Instead of answering, the masked man slung the mummy over his right shoulder and started for the exit. "They'll be comin' for us! Let's go!" He broke into a run.

So did the rest of us.

It was like something out of one of my movies--escaping a high tech underground lair as sirens blared and lights flashed red. Even as we ran, the thought occurred to me...and so did one other, which kept coming back to me again and again.

Since when does this happen in Heaven?

Up ahead, the way was clear, but not for long. As we approached the doorway through which we'd entered, two bald men in black uniforms rushed through it, armed with gold-plated guns.

M.J. let loose a war cry and charged straight at them. Before they could aim and fire, he was upon them, attacking with a frenzy of high-speed dance moves. Within seconds, both men were sprawled on the ground, and their guns were in M.J.'s hands.

He spun them around his fingers like an Old West gunslinger, then blew make-believe smoke off the end of each barrel.

Then, grinning, he darted through the doorway, and we followed.