Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels (42 page)

            Trevor found himself looking along the bar at the brunette.

            "Oh, yeah, that’s Jolene. You remember Jolene, don’t you?"

            Trevor vaguely remembered the girl from somewhere, from something that happened a long time ago. Something to do with his getting over to this world.

"She’s…she’s a friend. She wants to hang out with us tonight. She’s a lot of fun. What do you think? Do you think that would be okay?"

            As she spoke, Nina maneuvered Trevor to an open bar stool. He sat down.

            "Yeah, a, sure," a voice said from his lips but it seemed a far away, distant voice.

            "Oh good!"

She looked at the bartender and raised a finger then pointed that finger at Trevor. The bartender went to work on a mixed drink.

            "That’s great," Nina repeated. "I was sure that’s what you would think. I knew you’d think that was a good idea."

He projected a calm demeanor but underneath felt a tremor as images played through his mind.

"Well, here’s something else for you to think about," Nina stepped in between his legs as he sat on the stool. She pressed against him. She put her mouth to his ear, almost kissing him.

            "I want you to think about…" she spoke slowly, deliberately."I want you to think about two pair of lips…all over you…kissing… and
stuff."

            He did not move. Not on the outside.

"I want you to think about this; before this night is over you’re going to have us—
the two of us
—any way you want. Anything you can think of…we’ll do it. I bet you’re just full of ideas."

            She pressed tight against him.

            "But before all that…before that…I’m going to let
her
fuck
me…
while you watch."

She stepped out from between his knees, accepted a drink from the bartender, and handed it to him. Somehow he kept his hand from shaking.

            "You sit here, relax, enjoy your drink and you think about that while I go play."

            The music beat on. Nina twirled around and strolled over to Jolene. The brunette reached out and took her by the hand and the two girls moved to the dance floor.

            Trevor held his drink and watched.

            At first they danced harmlessly, like any two girls would dance. The lights flickered around them. The bass shook the room…he felt it across the floor and up the legs of the stool and into his spine.

            He watched.

            Then they danced closer. An arm over a shoulder. A hand on a hip.

            Nina turned her back to Jolene and the two swayed as their eyes found his.

            Jolene’s hand moved…slowly…along the curve of Nina’s body.

He sat…

…and watched them in the glow of the candles in the penthouse bedroom, listening to purrs of encouragement, whines complaining of a tease, moans for teases fulfilled.

He watched as Nina turned her head on the pillow and looked back at him. Looked back at him while she shivered and groaned from what was being done to her. Her eyes closed and her neck strained…her eyes opened and her mouth exhaled a gasp of gratification

            After a while…after Jolene had done everything she could think to do to the passive Nina…after Nina had cried out more times then he could count…after a while Trevor decided he did not want to watch any more.

Then he was with them. For all the things they had already done, he thought of more to do. Nina had been right. He had lots of ideas. He did not even know from where those ideas came. And they did them all. Eagerly. Cravingly.

He gave instructions.  "Yes…there…like that…now to her…"

Nothing was forbidden. They refused no command.

Three bodies twisted and turned amid the sweat of their lust; a ball of carnality. Everything explored. Every dark fantasy indulged.

            And he could not get enough. It became an addiction. Each gratification only brought the burning desire for more. Each satisfaction brief before he demanded something new.

Finally, the last act came not from satisfaction but from pure exhaustion. By that time he had become a dark shadow, a demon of a man whose most forbidden dreams of lust had been dragged to the surface and set free.

            He collapsed between the two weary women who, like everything else on that world, belonged to him.

---

            Despite directions, Johnny lost his way several times. Part of the problem revolved around the size of Thebes but, in truth, he conceded that whoever laid out the street plan for the city did so meticulously; no dead ends and almost every road wide and long.

Indeed, city seemed almost pre-fabricated. Neighborhoods lacked character and appeared nearly identical. For the first few minutes of his trip, the Reverend thought he might be running through an old cartoon with the same houses and buildings scrolling in the background because the animator lacked the ink to pen more variety.

            At the same time, he contended with a steering-wheel-mounted automatic transmission, a design he had not experienced before.

            On top of all that, he found it difficult to focus. His mind raced with fear and energy ever since Ashley shared the secret of Thebes; a secret he could not believe to the point of his first reaction being to think poor Ashley of this Earth to be mad.

Nonetheless, despite the obstacles and his state of mind, Johnny found the industrial zone. Once there, he sought out the largest building of the city, not in height but in acreage.

Ashley’s twin proved correct, the building's design made Johnny think of a Cathedral from back home, but one constructed without any sense of soul or inspiration. Instead of stone, metal served as the primary building block, sculpted into towers on each of the building's four corners that acted as supports with any style appearing incidental. He spied exposed struts beneath the metallic skin, giving parts of the structure a half-finished or, perhaps, hastily-constructed feel.

A long vousoir framed a pair of imposing doors dominating the building's front. Johnny spied skid marks on the concrete there suggesting the doors served as loading docks.

The area smelled of combusting fuels and burning electricity. A sooty film seemed pasted on the entire neighborhood and while the exterior lights were blacked out, rays of interior light escaped through a few small, frosted windows.

As per Ashley's instructions, the Reverend parked on a quiet, vacant street just off the building's south wall and across from a side entrance.

He did not see any sentries as he exited the car and approached the maintenance door with the key card provided by Ashley. With no nearby light source, he had to search with his fingers to find the slot, which he did. When his card slipped into the hole, a small green light flashed once and he heard a bolt unlock.

Unbeknownst to the Reverend, a small camera watched him open the door and walk inside.

He entered a dimly-lit maintenance area that smelled like oil and chemicals. He nearly slipped on a grease stain but managed to steady himself with a hand on a nearby rack of shelves filled with an array of pipes, valves, and tools.

Three different exits led away from the room. He chose one at random, pushed open the metal door, and transitioned into a tight passageway. As he moved along, he realized that Ashley had led him to a maze of what might be maintenance tunnels. The corridor he traveled felt like a 'back-stage' passage meant to bypass the main areas of the building, maybe for workers, or security, or perhaps these halls were once used to aid in the construction of the entire building, the way scaffolding is used on the exterior for such purposes.

In any case, the tunnel discreetly channeled him behind offices and shops, out of sight from guards and workers. However, he needed to move carefully for what the tunnel offered in access it subtracted in lighting. On several occasions he banged a knee, elbow, or shoulder and needed tremendous willpower to suppress curses of pain.

As he dove deeper into the complex, he grew conscious of a hum permeating the building. A hum not unlike one would expect from machinery. It was low but constant and, at times, felt as much a vibration in the walls as a sound in the air.

After a while, he heard voices and calls. The hoots and orders and complaints of workers in a factory. At one point he gazed through a ventilation duct into a small workshop where maintenance personnel inspected ordnance such as artillery shells and rifle rounds. At another he saw a bank of seamstresses putting the final touches on battle suits and uniforms.

Not long after, Johnny was forced to find refuge in a supply closet while two laborers enjoyed a smoke break. He was not sure if they smoked cigarettes, cigars, or something more potent, but the fellows took their time and savored their puffs.

            After clearing that hurdle, he exited a side corridor and crossed a metal catwalk hanging from the ceiling above a variety of chambers. Here he saw his first clue that Ashley spoke the truth. Below him, scenes of brutality. He flinched at the crack of whips and grimaced as forlorn moans found his ears.

However, he could not stop. One of the guards below need only glance upwards to find him spying. Therefore, Johnny proceeded forward with care not to rattle the metal bridge below his feet or otherwise attract attention. If discovered, not only would his life be endangered, but so would the life of Ashley if, in fact, her words proved true.

Ahead, the skywalk ascended a ramp toward an open archway. As he passed through the opening, a light wind blew across his face, the coolness of which contrasted sharply with the hot, moist workshops he left behind.

             As he entered the open space, he had a feeling akin to walking from the vomitory to the seating sections of a sports arena. Not just any arena, one of the super-sized fields like "The Big House" of Michigan football or Camp Nou in Barcelona, except with a vaulted ceiling overhead.

Tiered rings circled the area, tasked with some arcane industrial purpose. They resembled bleachers lined with valves and vents flapping open and shut releasing steam and vapors. More walkways as well as safety railings lined the complex between those tiers

            Johnny moved out from the ramp and across the concrete terrace. The valves and steam vents whistled and clanked open and shut behind and above.

            In front of Johnny stood a short railing overlooking the heart of the building; the heart of Thebes. He walked to that railing in measured steps, fearful of the sight Ashley warned of; fearful of what it meant about these people, about the Trevor of this world.

            He reached the railing and took hold with both hands, staring out at the immense area in front and below him.

His eyes adjusted, taking the sight below and breaking it into digestible pieces but even so, the consequences of this truth threatened to overwhelm his sense. His hands clenched the rail with great force, his eyes widened, and a sharp cold sweat broke out across his body. Try as he might, Reverend Johnny could not even muster an Old Testament passage to capture the moment.

           
The truth about the legacy of our Trevor Stone.

Johnny tore himself away from the sight only by forcing his mind to action; the action of finding Trevor. The action of taking him away from this cursed place.

He turned to hurry away, to escape, but stopped as Director Snowe and two soldiers blocked his path.

            Snowe's stoic expression did not change. The man did not flinch
—not even a little—
as he drove a blade into the Reverend’s gut.    

            The victim offered a weak gasp unfitting for a man so big and strong. Reverend Johnny’s voice and vengeance once sent the minions of Voggoth running in fear, his machine gun had cut down demonic Wraiths at the polar ice cap and his hands had smashed Viking skulls at Five Armies. He had dispatched dozens—hundreds—of humanity's enemies with energy, confidence, and zeal. Yet he died with barely a sigh, hardly more than a whimper, all with stunned shock carved on his face as if he gazed upon Medusa.

He collapsed to the ground not from the jaws of a monster or the guns of an alien army, but at the hands of a man.

"Now looky here. You making yourself at home and whatnot there, Trevvy?"

I am dreaming.

"Of course you dreamin'. Whatchya thinkin'? You don’t belong over there. So I’m sendin' this here special de-liver-ee straight from me to you. Can you hear me now? Hehe."

Fuck off.

"Ah, now, see, that just ain’t very nice of you considerin' how I’m tryin' to be all easy an shit. I could be bendin' your ear telling you how you gone off the reservation, but I’m figurin' you know that. So the question is, Trevor, have you had enough ass yet? You work off that big piece of pissed-off you’ve been carryin' ‘round? You ready to hop the A-train for home?"

They need me here.