Badass Zombie Road Trip (16 page)

A crucifix.

“Jesus,” Jonah whispered, then thought better of it. Getting to his knees, he turned around to face the cross. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

The cross didn’t seem to mind. It was very quiet about the whole matter.

Jonah stared at the little figure hanging from the religious icon and thought maybe, just maybe, there was one being in the whole world who
would
be interested in listening to Jonah complain about his situation. Even if he did bring it upon himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, feeling a little bit silly for talking to a piece of art in a cheap motel. “I suppose there is some kind of prayer or something I should start with. But I have never really been a religious person.”

Neither the figure nor the old rugged cross on which it hung seemed to mind Jonah’s casual tone, so he continued.

“You know,” Jonah said, “I don’t think I even really believed in good and evil before all of this. When folks asked me, I told them that I believed in God and Satan, but I think, deep down, I didn’t. Not really. I didn’t believe in either of you. But now … now I don’t know what to think anymore.”

The crucifix was quiet, of course, but somehow this was soothing. It didn’t contradict him. It didn’t mock him. It didn’t light a cigar and try to share centuries-old road trip stories with him. The thing just listened. It let Jonah talk. Better than that, it allowed him to confess.

Jonah cleared his throat and said, “I suppose you have to be real. If the Devil exists, then logic says so do you. I guess I owe you an apology, you know, for not taking you seriously all those years.”
 

The crucifix didn’t press him for apologies or regret.

Jonah closed his eyes and, in a moment of desperation, was filled with the urge to just say what felt. So he did. He let down his guard and spoke the worry that lay on his heart. “I need help. I don’t think I can do this alone, and God knows … I mean
you
know … sorry … but you do know Dale isn’t going to be any help. I just wish I could ask for your aid without feeling, I don’t know, weird about it. I mean, I ignore you for how long, and now I need you? I bet you get that all the time.” Jonah let out a nervous giggle. The echo of his laugh was empty and cold in the quiet of the room, which broke the confessional spell. He hung his head as he whispered, “Great, now I’m talking to wall fixtures.”

“You might as well,” a deep, brooding voice announced.

Jonah snapped his attention to the only chair in the room.

Satan, still dressed to the nines, was seated in the only chair in the room, staring intently at Jonah. “Hello again, Mr. Benton.” He smiled a mouthful of white lightning and nodded as he spread his hands in greeting. “As I was saying, you’ll probably get a better response from a wall fixture. An old plastic cross is just as likely to grant your request as is His precious Almighty.”

Made uncomfortable by the unexpected company, Jonah scooted to the edge of the bed and pulled the towel more tightly about his waist. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you. The real question is what are
you
doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I paid to be in here. It’s my hotel room.”

“Really? You’re in a race to save your immortal soul and you got time to stop for a layover?” Satan leaned forward, raising his wrist, holding his watch—another and even more expensive-looking Rolex—face out to Jonah as he said, “Tick tock. Time’s a-wastin’.”

“I have plenty of time!” Jonah snapped.

“I’m only picking at ya, son.” Satan’s grin fell as he sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “I just wanted see how you’re getting along.”

Jonah grunted. “How magnanimous of you.”

“I’m just here to make sure you’re okay. Trust me.”

“Where have I heard that before?”

“What I didn’t expect was to catch ya half nekkid, on your knees in front of ye olde rugged cross. I didn’t think you had that kind of groveling in you.”

Jonah winced. How much had the Devil heard? “I wasn’t groveling. I was … thinking. Aloud.”

“Them were some funny things to think. Aloud.”

“Like you would know.”

“I would, as a matter of fact. And I can tell you right now,” Satan paused and pointed a very well manicured finger at the figure on the wall. “There ain’t no amount of begging that’s gonna make Him step in. He’d rather see you lose than intervene.”

“You think so, do you?”

“I don’t just think so, I know so. A few millennia of experience have taught me one thing. Be ye sinner or be ye saint, the same proverb applies to everyone. Once you make your bed …” Satan’s verbal pause encouraged Jonah to finish the thought.

With a small groan, Jonah whispered, “You’ve got to lie in it.” This was disheartening news, to say the least. Though he tried his best not to show his disappointment, Jonah couldn’t help but slump.

“Aww, kid,” Satan said. “Don’t take it so hard. He just doesn’t work with the public as directly as I do.”

“I thought He was supposed to work in mysterious ways?”

“He does.” Satan’s voice grew flat, aggressive. “Only the mystery is why anyone thinks He will help them at all. He never does. Oh, sure He has His favorites, but in the end, He makes sure that we’re all accountable for our mistakes. As long as His lily-white hands are clean, He’s happy.”

Jonah wanted to be pleased at having found a sore spot for Lucifer, but wasn’t in the mood for gloating. “Isn’t that the way we like it, though? Autonomy? Freedom to do what we like? The freedom to choose? Good or evil. Up or down. This or that—”

“Heaven or Hell?” A small grin crept back to Lucifer’s face.

“That, too. And I know I made my bed and everything, but I would like to say, just for the record, that I’d rather not go to Hell.”

Satan exploded with laughter. “Then let the record reflect your displeasure. I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. In light of the trials and tribulations you are going through, you sure are facing it with an amazing amount of grace. I admire that.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Satan flicked his fingers at the television, turning the set on and dimming the room lights with just a gesture. A few more finger flicks produced an adult channel, which claimed to be in the middle of a DP extravaganza. Jonah caught a glimpse of some poor woman sandwiched between two large men, tears of either joy or pain streaming down her face. Thankfully, the volume was still down. He looked away before the action had a chance to capture his interest. Or his libido.

“Speaking of trials,” Satan said, “how’s the stiff?”

Jonah crossed and uncrossed his legs and wriggled in place, unsure of what the devil the Devil was getting at.

Satan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I meant Dale.”

Keeping his eyes on the Devil, and away from the myriad sexual delights, Jonah said, “He’s in the shower.”

“I assumed as much. How is he holding up?”

“Remarkably well, considering he’s a corpse. I have to admit I thought he would be more deadish by now.”

The smile returned. “Consider that a gift from me. His rate of decomposition has slowed. Considerably.”

“I see. Well, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome. The Big Man isn’t the only one who works in mysterious ways.” Lucifer’s smile twinkled in the glow of televised sin. “Yup. Our friend Dale shouldn’t start posing any real problems for a few days yet.”

Jonah sensed mischief in the warning. “What kind of problems?”

“Rotting. Decaying. Just what he should be doing now, but isn’t. Time will catch up with him eventually. And when it does, believe you me, the stench will be unbearable.”

“Eventually?” Jonah squeaked. “How soon is eventually?”

Satan shrugged, but never looked away from the pornographic images flitting across the screen beside him. “The full week. A few days. Hard to say, really. There ain’t much I have in common with the Man upstairs, but there is this one thing: We can’t delay the inevitable. Nature takes precedence over our wishes. Like good old Doris said,
que sera, sera
.”

Jonah struck the bed with a fist and swore under his breath.

“Don’t look so down about it,” Satan said, finally glancing at Jonah. “You should have plenty of time before that happens. I’d just make sure to be at the finish line before then. Way before then.”

“We will. You just wait and see.”

“Oh, I am, Jonah Orville Benton. I’m waiting for that very thing.” For a brief moment, in the soft phosphorescence of the television, Lucifer’s blue eyes flashed with crimson flames. Then the Devil stood, buttoning his jacket as he readied himself to leave. “Well, then, you seem to have everything in hand. I’ll let you alone.”

“Are you going to do these surprise inspections very often?”

“No. Maybe. Who knows?” Lucifer laid his finger beside his nose, tapping his perfect proboscis as he added, “Mysterious ways, remember?”

“Can I ask just one more question?”

“For my favorite human? Sure. Ask away.”

“Why Linville Caverns?”

Satan tipped his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Linville Caverns. Why there?”

“Sorry, son. Doesn’t ring a bell. Is it near here?”

“Stop playing hard to get. We know his soul is in North Carolina. But why the Caverns? I know he has family there, but he’s never actually been. I just found it an odd choice, since he has never visited the place himself. But I suppose it had less to do with links to Dale and more to do with the fact that it’s clear across the country. Is that it?”

Smiling wide once more, Satan said, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jonah groaned. Of course Satan would deny knowledge of the hiding spot. “Okay. Whatever. I’m not in the mood. Can you just tell me if it’s hidden in a reasonable place? Or have you dropped it down some dark hole we can’t physically get to?”

Lucifer’s smile was of the impossible variety again. Far too many teeth for a normal human. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Then he was gone. No dramatic fade. No puff of smoke. The Devil was there one moment and gone the next. The lights returned to their usual glare, and the sudden absence of the Devil left Jonah nauseated. He looked away from the spot that once held the Devil, letting his gaze rest on the glaring TV.

Just in time to see some buxom blonde spit-roasted between a pair of cocks the approximate length and thickness of Jonah’s forearm.

Jonah’s eyes grew to saucer proportions. He had, on occasion, watched sex scenes before, but nothing as raw as the movie playing out before him. Once, on an unforgettable birthday night, Dale had all but forced Jonah to view an actual, dyed-in-the-wool adult film. But even then, friend as Dale was, the whole movie was nothing more than a few mutual masturbation and oral scenes, ending with a climax of a sweet and simple coupling that made the romantic in Jonah sigh to watch. (Dale later confessed the movie was from a company that specialized in ‘porn for chicks.’ Whatever that meant.) It was nothing as wild as what he was viewing now. Not even his imagination was as dirty as this. Jonah grabbed the remote, sliding the volume up, ever so slightly, just enough to hear the action without announcing to the world that he was watching pure and utter filth.

The blonde gagged and choked on her mouthful as she bucked and writhed against the man under her. From her squeals of delight, Jonah could only assume she enjoyed it, though her face betrayed this notion with an occasional wince or grimace. Was this some poor sap’s idea of making love? No, this was just fucking, as Dale put it so succinctly. Jonah had a very different idea of what should happen between folks in the bedroom. Ideas that didn’t involve three people, thank you very much. Though, truth be told, he did find the whole display a bit, well, stimulating. He watched the session for a few moments, half disgusted, half aroused, with his finger lingering over the power switch but lacking the wherewithal to actually turn it off and resisting the overpowering urge to tend to his growing erection.

With a grunt, the blonde popped the glistening cock from her mouth and gave it a long, luxurious lick before she looked into the camera and begged, “Oh yeah, baby. Fuck my ass.”

Jonah grunted in disbelief. The request was preposterous. There was no way on earth that poor anorexic but busty woman was going to fit a penis in both orifices at the same time. No way. Forgetting himself in the moment, Jonah laid the remote down, reached beneath the towel to cup his rising desire and prepared to watch what he considered to be an impossible act.

Just as the freakishly endowed man moved around the bed and mounted the writhing couple from behind, Jonah heard Dale’s voice from somewhere far off.

“What do we have here?”

Jonah looked up to find Dale standing in the bathroom doorway with a towel wrapped about his waist, framed by a rolling outline of steam. It was the first chance Jonah had to take a good look at the dead man, and what he saw was disturbing. The skin across Dale’s torso was mottled—pale and pallid, splattered with blotches of purple and blue, all shot through with a spider web of darkening veins. Shadowy half moons rested under his puffy eyes. His lips were a faded shade of dirty blue, as were the nail beds of his fingers and toes. The Devil may have slowed down the process of decomposition, but the man still looked like a corpse. A walking, talking corpse, but still a corpse.