Tim Marquitz - At The Gates

My heart pounding to the rhythm of an early 80’s Slayer song, I hopped to my feet to go to her. At least that’s what I told my body to do.

What really happened was I twitched and fell over onto my side in what amounted to slow motion. The broken shards of the statue embedded in my face were ground in deeper as my cheek smacked the ground. It was a little unpleasant.

While my face stung and my skull throbbed like I’d been out all night with the boys, and it was a little hard to breathe, I really didn’t hurt too much. All that being pretty minor considering the shit I’ve been through, I couldn’t figure out why I was having such a hard time getting up. Nothing made sense.

I raised myself up with the one arm that would still somewhat listen and took a second to survey the damage. Interestingly, I was looking down over my left shoulder and could see my ass sprawled out kind of Playboy-esque behind me. A bit disconcerted, I turned my head and bolts of lightning shot through my eyes, obscuring the world in a sudden flurry of snow. My head filled with static, the white noise between radio stations. When it finally cleared, I was laying on the ground, my hand twitching under me like Pee Wee Herman’s in a dark theater.

Without moving my head, I pieced together the images that were flooding into the murky swimming pools of my eyes. Though I recognized what I saw, it still didn’t make any sense. Flat on my stomach, I was able to look past my shoulder blades and watch over my heels as Grawwl came stomping towards me. It was really quite disconcerting.

That’s when it clicked. My neck was broken.

I like to think I’m a pretty tough guy. Busted into more pieces over the years than most modern mathematicians can count, I’d seen just about every injury imaginable. No matter how many broken bones, punctured lungs, or exploded rectums I’ve experienced-you don’t want to know-there’s nothing that says helpless quite like a broken neck or spine.

You can fight through the rest, drag a shattered leg behind you, shove a roll of toilet paper up your ass, but there’s not shit you can do when the drive shaft is broken. You just flop about like a landed fish until things knit back into place.

As a demon, I was fortunate; it’d happen after a while as it hadn’t been a magical weapon that hit me, all dogma aside. Though from the snarky look on Grawwl’s face, I wasn’t gonna have that kind of time.

“Aaaaaah, the poor little mutt fell down. Ooh, that looks painful.” A snide laughed grumbled from him.

He hovered over me, his eyes glistening with the kind of excitement you only saw at Christmas and in the prison shower. I tried to tell him where to go, but my inner GPS must have been on the fritz; I only blew a spit bubble.

Grawwl chuckled as the bubble popped and cold spit splattered across my face.

“You look like you’re having a real hard time. Here, let me help.”

His massive paws reached for me and I screamed, but I don’t think anyone but the voices in my head heard me. Though in their defense, they’re usually more helpful getting me into trouble than out.

Undeterred, he sniggered as he latched onto my skull, his claws clacking together as they settled into position. Then one good twist later, WWII was reenacted in the span of an instant within the confines of my head. In that instant, my consciousness disappeared like the concept of French pride.

Poof.

Through the blackness, which pressed down on me more uncomfortably than a Tyler Perry marathon, I became aware of a steady, whooshing breeze that blew against my tingling face. It carried with it a fetid stench, which brought to mind chicken gizzards dipped in unwashed ass.

The stink invaded my nose and settled in my throat as though I were a porn shoot fluffer. Choked into a full and painful consciousness, I opened my eyes to see Grawwl’s wet snout just inches from my face.

“Guess that answers the question of where bears shit.”

My eyes watering, I didn’t dare move my head for fear of the pain that’d accompany it. Through my peripheral vision, I could see my crotch was once more in its proper position with respect to the rest of me, and that was a good thing. I still felt nastier than a used tampon though.

Grawwl grumbled and leaned back, his paws on his hips as though posing for an anthropomorphic calendar. The worst part was that he wasn’t a Ken werebear, he was a fully developed fuzzbucket who happened to be in frightening proportion. The furry thing was jiggling about like a cat toy as he laughed and I was feeling rather self-conscious, not to mention a little inadequate.

“Welcome back. Feeling better?” He stepped away and I had to admit I was as the chapel came into view once more, sans bear penis.

A ways behind him sat Scarlett and Katon, their arms and legs trussed up mummy-like. They’d been beaten ugly, blood leaking from between the ropes. Both of their faces were puffy and battered and their eyes were almost invisible behind swollen, black eyelids. I could feel the little daggers of their gazes as they glared at me through the tiny slits. Something fun must have happened while I was out.

“It’s nothing personal, mutt, but I can’t seem to get any answers out of your friends, so it’s your turn in the hot seat.”

I think I whimpered, though I won’t swear to it. “If you wanted to play Trivial Pursuit, all you had to do was ask. How’s next Friday sound?”

He grinned vicious and moved in close once more, the rancid stink of his breath washing over me again. “I don’t have time for this, demon. Where is Eve?”

Right then, the circular train of illogic rolled into the station once more. His reddish-orange eyes pulsing right in front of me, I just couldn’t make any sense of his need for the key or why he would be working with vampires to get it. Neither race had a stake in Heaven now that God was gone. Their lives wouldn’t be benefited or harmed should The Kingdom fall. Then what Longinus had told me wiggled to the fore.

That’s when it all came together like a bukkake birthday cake.

“I’m not telling.” My chin stuck out as far as my wobbly neck would allow, I told him where he could go; detailed directions followed.

Grawwl roared and stomped over to Scarlett, lifting her into the air by her throat. She clenched her jaw and snarled at him through gnashed teeth, but I could see fear in the slivers of her eyes.

Dying in battle was one thing. It was part and parcel of the supernatural world we inhabited. Being torn limb from limb, or worse, while tied up and helpless was an entirely different kind of death to face. There really wasn’t any way to take that with dignity or honor.

“Tell me or I’ll start tearing pieces off.” His massive claws settled on her breast, their points making tiny indentations in her shirt. Tiny dots of blood welled up underneath.

My stomach seized and filled with weighty bricks of disgust as I made up my mind to stay the course. While I would forever regret-forever likely only gonna last a few seconds-being the cause of Scarlett’s death, the alternative would be far worse.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I can’t give it to him. If he gets the key, not only is Heaven lost, but all of humanity will end up laid out on a dinner plate for him and his bloodsucking, asshole vampire buddies. No offense, Katon.”

Grawwl stomped his foot and tightened his grip on Scarlett. Her eyes bulged from her face. “Do you think I’m bluffing?”

Fighting the urge to shake my head, I met the fury of his gaze, doing my best not to look at Scarlett dangling in his paw. “I have no doubt whatsoever that you’re telling the truth. For the humans to stand any chance of making it out of all this in relatively one piece, you can’t have it.”