Thomas Sniegoski - Walking In the Midst of Fire

“You’re a fucking monster,” Bobbie said, spitting in the fallen angel’s face. Prosper flinched, but didn’t release her.

“I’ll remember that when this is over,” he told her.

“Since you’ve already started talking,” Remy said, “why don’t you keep it up so we’re all on the same page?”

“Guy came to me out of the blue and said that the kids might be worth something down the line, and I asked him to make me an offer,” Prosper said. “I like a guy with vision, so I started turning the kids over. We kept them safe and sound.”

Remy attempted to find the angle, and could think of only one thing.

“For what?” he asked. “Blackmail?”

Prosper laughed. “Y’know, the blackmail angle was the first thing I thought of, too. But it turned out to be just the tip of the fucking iceberg.”

Remy cocked his head inquisitively.

“This guy had a plan all right,” Prosper continued. “Got to the point where I just did as I was told, and collected the money.”

“Sounds like things were pretty good,” Remy said.

“Yeah,” Prosper agreed. “They were.”

“Until Aszrus got murdered,” Remy said. “Bet that threw a monkey wrench in the works.”

Prosper’s face looked as though somebody had stuck a handful of shit beneath it.

“I fucking told them to watch the kids,” he said, shaking his head. “They were getting weirder.”

His eyes focused specifically on Remy. “You’re kind of the expert on living here,” he said. “It’s got something to do with being teenagers, right? Puberty, is it?”

Remy gave him nothing.

“Aszrus was coming around to Rapture more often, wanting to see them,” Prosper continued. “I think the general was actually getting attached.”

“One of the children did this,” Remy stated. “One of these offspring killed a general in Heaven’s army.”

It was Prosper’s turn not to answer.

“Doesn’t that make you the littlest bit nervous?”

There came the sound of the doorknob rattling, and then a pounding on the door.

“Boss? It’s me!” called a rumbling voice. “We just found Luke and Tony. The prisoners are—”

“They’re in here!” Prosper screamed, and things went from zero to crazy in a matter of seconds.

Malatesta’s magick did very little to hold back the zombies pounding on the other side of the door, and the flimsy wood shattered as the walking dead fought their way inside.

Remy heard the short scream, and looked away from the monstrous dead men to see Bobbie dropping to the floor, an expression of horror on her face as blood streamed from between her fingers, which she clutched to her stomach.

Prosper was already on the move, running to the back of the office. Thinking he had nowhere to go, Remy caught Bobbie as she fell.

“The children,” she said softly. It looked as though she was having a hard time breathing. “You’ve got to do something. . . .”

Remy hadn’t a clue what to do. He lowered her gently to the floor, and decided that handing out a vicious beating to Prosper would be a good start.

But the fallen angel was gone.

Remy stood, eyes darting around the back of the room searching for any sign of the charnel house owner, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Remy!” came a cry from behind him, and he turned to see that the zombies were fully inside the room now, and Malatesta was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“I could use some help!”

The magick user’s spells were driving the dead men back, but they quickly recovered, surging at Malatesta again.

From the looks of it, Malatesta wasn’t going to last much longer, and besides, Remy had some serious frustration issues at the moment, and could certainly use an opportunity to blow off some steam.

He looked around the room for something that he could use, and saw that Prosper had dropped Bobbie’s knife as he fled. Remy darted toward the blood-stained blade, calling forth his wings and the power of the Seraphim that waited patiently, knowing that in Remy’s line of work these situations often had a tendency to arise.

Knife in hand, Remy took to the air, flying across the room. As he traveled, he willed the fire of Heaven down his arm and into the short, metal blade, transforming it from merely a knife, to a weapon of Heaven.

A short-bladed weapon of Heaven, but a weapon of Heaven nonetheless.

The zombies didn’t know what hit them.

Malatesta had been driven back, and lay atop Prosper’s desk, a shield of magick protecting him from the dead men’s fists that were attempting to pound him into pulp.

Remy landed among them, distracting them from the magick user. He wasted no time lashing out at the first of the animated corpses, the enhanced knife blade passing through the putrid flesh and bone of a zombie’s neck, severing the head from its body.

In one smooth move, Remy kicked that still thrashing body away, and acted upon the next of the undead attackers.

The burning knife-blade crackled as it cut through the air, before reaching its next target. The blade sliced down vertically through the chest, to the belly, allowing the no-longer-functioning internal workings to spill out onto the zombie’s feet and floor.

The look upon the dead man’s face seemed almost comical, as if he were embarrassed to have his innards exposed to the world.

Remy took away his embarrassment as he drove the burning knife into a waiting eye socket, igniting his head in glorious yellow flame. He looked like a jack-o’-lantern. The zombie’s hands immediately went to his burning face, his feet going out from underneath him as he slipped on his own intestines, which were coiled upon the floor.

A rock-hard fist struck with powerful force at the back of Remy’s head, knocking him down. The zombie wasn’t going to wait until Remy recovered, delivering a solid kick to Remy’s midsection and sending him hurtling across the room.

Using his wings, he sprang from where he’d fallen, shaking off the ringing in his ears, replacing it with his own scream of anger as he flung himself at the zombie that now charged at him. Remy smiled as he saw what the zombie was holding: a rusty machete, raised menacingly above his head.

A machete would be much more efficient than a small knife, Remy thought as he collided with the zombie’s rock-solid midsection, the two of them now headed into the wall.

The plaster caved inward with the impact as the zombie, unfazed by the act, attempted to bury the machete blade in Remy’s head. The short sword came down, but Remy captured the animated corpse’s wrist, stopping its descent.

Remy smiled as he willed the fire inside him to climb, soon engulfing the zombie’s hand as it traveled to the machete.

The zombie watched in awe as its appendage crumbled to ash, and Remy found himself with a new, divinely enhanced weapon.

“Nice,” Remy said, admiring the flaming blade just before swinging it across, and cutting the zombie’s head from its body with little resistance.

“And sharp, too.”

There were more zombies spilling in from the hole broken in the office door, and Remy found himself tiring of the pointless battle. There were still important matters involving the safety of the world to be considered. He allowed himself to grow hotter, the divine fire radiating from his body. It was as if the zombies were drawn to it. The walking dead men charged at him with weapons of all kinds, one of them even spraying the office with an assault rifle in an attempt to take him down.

Good luck with that, Remy thought, throwing his burning body amidst them as the machete cut them down to little more than writhing torsos and severed limbs upon the office floor.

“I’m getting tired of this,” Remy announced to Malatesta behind him.