Dead & Godless (25 page)

The Last Great Adventure

Miles of spruce and
fir trees rolled by. Sweeping down from the Appalachians, the forest spread its
needles over rocky hills and valleys, treetops poking at the burnt orange sky.
Mary sat absorbing the view while Corwin looked over the wine list. They shared
the old-timey dining car with only a few fellow patrons. Another couple and a
pair of businessmen spoke in reserved tones over the thrumming of steel wheels
against the tracks.

“Well
this is romantic,” remarked Mary, “. . .
and
unexpected. I didn’t think
I’d see you near a train any time soon.”

“Near-death
experiences aren’t so bad once you get used to them,” said Corwin. “I may even
take up sky diving!”

“That
sounds thrilling, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t lose any more appendages.”

“Must
you always be so superficial?”

Mary
giggled and Corwin found his eyes straying to the plunging neckline of her
dress. She looked as lovely as ever, yet something was missing. The silver
cross that she had worn almost every day since they first met no longer hung
from her neck. Mary wasn’t devoutly religious, not like her mother, but whether
for the sake of tradition or fashion, she was seldom without the necklace.
Searching his memory, it struck Corwin that not once had he seen her wearing it
after his accident.

“You
really
have
changed,” Mary said. “And so have I.” She reached across the
white table cloth to hold his hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot these past few
weeks. Remember how you used to tease me about not being an atheist? You were
always polite and playful about it, never pressuring me too hard. I’d laugh it
off and push your arguments out of my mind. Without faith, I didn’t think there
would be any meaning in my life. Maybe I was just afraid.”

Corwin
gulped, his conscience laden with an unexpected sense of guilt.

“But
not anymore?”

“It
took you getting hit by that train for me to see it. There was no meaning in
that accident, just senseless, random violence. Why would God allow such a
thing to happen to someone who was only trying to do a good deed?”

“At
least I lived through it,” offered Corwin.

“Just
barely, and no thanks to God.”

Breathing
unsteadily, Corwin struggled to put his thoughts in order. He wasn’t sure what
was stranger, the change in Mary’s convictions or his own conflicted feelings
about it.

“I
noticed that you’re not wearing your cross.”

“I’ll
never wear it again, Corwin.”

“You’re
serious about this? You’re honestly becoming an atheist?”

“Aren’t
you happy? I thought that this was what you always wanted.”

“I,
uh . . . It’s just that this is a big decision. You’ve been a Christian all
your life.”

“I’m
ready to start a new life. All I need is you.”

As she
stared passionately into his eyes, Corwin’s heart melted. The person that he
loved more than anyone else in the world was saying goodbye to God. Would she
be happier? More cynical? She would definitely be changed. Mary was saying
goodbye to a part of herself, and Corwin feared that it was a part he would
miss.

Two
sizzling slabs of beef, delicately seasoned, journeyed from the kitchen to
where the other couple sat at a nearby booth. Once their sharply-dressed waiter
had finished attending to them, he moved on to Corwin and Mary’s table.

“Good
evening,” he said. “My name’s James and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you
care for some drinks to start off?”

“I’d
say tonight calls for champagne,” purred Mary.

Corwin
gave the wine list one more look.

“We’ll
take a bottle of the Charles Heidsieck.”

“An
excellent choice,” said James. “If I could just see your IDs, please?”

It
had been a while since Corwin was last carded.
One year, eight months,
his
memory told him. As he fumbled with his wallet, a small, laminated card slipped
out and fell to the floor. He bent to retrieve it and felt a sudden chill. On
the card was the artful scene of a dove in descent. It was the same holy card
that the taxi driver had given him in his dream.

But
that’s impossible!

He
tried to rationalize. Someone must have slipped him the card at some point in
the past. He had glimpsed it and forgotten about it, only to have his
unconscious mind dredge the memory back up while he was knocked out and
medicated into the Twilight Zone.

That
has to be it.

The only
problem was that he had no recollection of ever receiving any holy cards, and
Corwin’s brain was even better at remembering than it was at rationalizing.

He
snatched it up and handed his driver’s license to the waiter. After taking a
brief scan, James returned it.

“I’ll
be right back with that bubbly.”

Corwin
flipped over the curious card in his lap, finding “A Prayer to the Holy Spirit
for Discernment” printed in gothic type.

“I’m
surprised that you’re not more excited,” said Mary, studying his face.

“You
do know that your mother is going to kill me?”

“The
choice is mine, not hers.”

“But
have you thought it through? I mean, a decision like this . . .” Corwin chewed
his lower lip.
Am I really about to say what I think I’m about to say?
“Maybe
you should pray about it.”

“What?”
Mary’s expression couldn’t have been any more dumbfounded if Corwin had pulled
off his skin to reveal that he was an alien impostor.

“There’s
no harm, right? If the Big Man doesn’t exist, then you’ve wasted a minute or
two, but if he does, maybe he’ll send you a sign.”

“Are
you feeling alright?”

“You
know what? I’ll even say a prayer with you!”

“Corwin,
I’d rather not.”

He
revealed the card, extending it towards her.

“I
know this sounds weird coming from me, but somebody gave me this holy card, and–”

Her
arm lashed out like a rattlesnake, striking the card from his grasp. It
pinwheeled across the aisle, and just then the windows fell dark, the air
humming as the speeding train plunged into a tunnel.

“I
don’t pray.”

The
voice that issued from Mary’s lips belonged to nothing human.

Corwin
sprang out of his seat.

“You’re
not Mary!” He yanked up his right pant leg, revealing not steel and
carbon-fiber, but flesh and bone. “I never really woke up!”

“Imbecile!”
The demon’s features warped as she stood erect. “Did you think you’d get a
second chance?”

Gone
were the dining car’s other patrons. They hadn’t fled, but simply vanished, as
if they’d never existed at all.

“Ransom!”
Corwin called.

No
one answered.

“The
angel cannot help you here,” spoke his date, her hands transforming into claws.

Corwin
would have given anything for a soulrender. That this accursed monster had
dared use Mary’s face set his anger aflame, but armed only with his fists, he
knew that he was sorely outmatched. And the demon knew it as well.

Vicious
claws raked towards him. Corwin grabbed the nearest thing at hand—a table cloth—and
swept it between them. Tableware flew and the fabric tore, but it also
billowed, concealing him for a split-second. He sidestepped and kicked. The
blinded demon crashed into a booth, more annoyed than harmed.

“The
more you resist, the sweeter your pain will be.”

She
lunged again, faster than before.

So
this is it.

The
door to the kitchen swung open and a chef in white hurled a meat cleaver.
Corwin leaned to the side as the shrieking demon toppled forward, the cleaver
embedded in her back.

“My
compliments to the chef!”

Glad
for a weapon, he pulled the chef’s blade free, and while doing so noticed two
black-suited men hurriedly making their way through the rear car—more agents of
the Collection Branch. His first instinct was to run, and already his feet were
backpedaling.

As
they breached the rear door, Corwin half-turned and the chef brushed past him,
sprinting to meet the demons with another cleaver held high. Shots were fired
and just as fast deflected, a window shattering in their path. Torn between
fleeing and joining the fight, Corwin’s choice was made for him when a third
agent burst from the kitchen door. Obsidian steel rang against his cleaver.

The
weapon might have lacked the elegance of Ransom’s katana, but it was a
soulrender nonetheless. Corwin could feel it guiding his motions, hungry for a
chance to draw blood.

The
demon bore down with a heavy slash and he leapt out of range. Landing, his
shoulders bumped the man behind him. He and the chef stood back-to-back. They
exchanged a quick glance. The chef was a robust man with a bushy black beard. And
there was something else about him . . .

Haven’t
I seen that face before?

A
sword thrust grazed Corwin’s neck. He swatted the blade aside and slapped the
demon with the blunt rear edge of his cleaver. At his back, the chef ducked. He
sensed it and did the same, just as a dark katana skimmed both of their heads.
An unspoken understanding passed between them and simultaneously they traded
opponents. Corwin dealt a crippling blow to one of the agents while the chef
parried the other and rammed a fist into his jaw.

“Thanks
for the hand,” said Corwin. He glanced at his ally again and his memory finally
placed him. “Wait a second! Aren’t you that bum? What the heck happened to
you?”

“I
sobered up,” the chef gruffly replied.

He moved
like a black-haired whirlwind with a cleaver, spinning and hacking the life
from his foes.

“Must
have been one hell of a twelve-step program,” mumbled Corwin.

“When
I finally got things straightened out, I figured I owed you one,” said his ally
as the last demon crumpled in the aisle. “The name’s Rodney.”

Several
more agents were already charging their way from the adjacent train cars, and even
with help, Corwin knew that he couldn’t fight them off forever.

“Don’t
suppose you’ve got a plan?”

“Through
the window!” Rodney shouted. “Head for the engine car! I’ll hold them off.”

Corwin
kicked out the glass shards that clung along the rim of the window broken
earlier by gunfire. With one foot on the frame, he angled his head through.

“What
about you?” he yelled back to Rodney.

“My
time here is limited. Hurry!”

A
wall of hot, ash-flecked wind assailed him and Corwin hugged the side of the
train as he climbed. Pistols blared and blades clashed in the dining car. Hooking
one hand over the roof’s edge, he began to climb, and was almost to safety when
his left foot slipped. His other hand shot to the rooftop, saving him from a
fall, but at the cost of his only weapon. The shining cleaver tumbled out of
sight.

Cursing
his luck, Corwin swung a leg onto the roof and rolled atop it. Though the wind
blew fierce, he found that he could stand without crouching. The mountain
passage was more spacious than any ordinary railroad tunnel. Sulfur tinged the
air, and what he had taken for electric lamps set in the walls revealed
themselves to be torches. Up ahead, their twin trails diverged with the broadening
cavern. The floor fell away and a column of stone arches suspended the rails
like a Roman aqueduct. A reddish glow crept up from the chasm. The heat was
growing stronger.

Loud,
metallic raps sounded at his feet as bullets pierced the roof. Corwin hastily
scrambled forward, stopping short of jumping to the next car.

They
always make this look so easy in the movies . . .

He made
the mistake of looking down. Far, far below burned a magma river, its bubbles
belching flames as they burst.

Why
was I ever afraid of heights? Now lava, that’s scary!

Corwin
stepped back from the edge to give himself a short runway. Any trepidation was
promptly erased when an onyx blade speared upwards between his legs. He bolted
and leapt, flying clear over the gap, but was nearly tossed from the next car
by a torrid blast of air and the sloping roof. Hands appeared along its edges.

The
first demon to lift his head got a taste of Corwin’s boot. So intense was the
heat that his body ignited a dozen yards above the molten flow.

Corwin
vaulted onto the car ahead, finding a dagger-wielding agent already on his feet.
He couldn’t afford to slow down. The knife tore a hole in his coat, but he
twisted, throwing his shoulder into the man and sending him to join his
comrade. The engine car was in sight.

In
his haste, Corwin didn’t even notice the air vent. He tripped in full stride
and his skull bounced off the unforgiving floor. The world swam as he looked up,
dim shapes resolving into a pair of polished leather shoes. Wasting no words,
the demon savagely raised his blade.