A Boy and His Corpse (14 page)

He turned back to the imposter. “But the truth is, I haven’t seen my family for over ten years now. Mr. Rovas told me I would never see them again unless I did everything he said. So I was trained as a spy and watched Alan’s every move. I even lived down here though you didn’t know it. I studied Alan’s likes and dislikes until I knew him better than he even knew himself. When you went to the surface, I went up, too, to help train him. Mr. Rovas didn’t want Alan to feel like he was being forced into necromancing like his father. He wanted Alan to
want
to learn how to control the dead, which is why we always wrestled in the basement with Mort. It was to get him to learn necromancing on his own volition and to love it. We had some minor success, but then again, I didn’t have much time with him.”

“Interesting,” the devil said again, leaving it at that.

After a moment of silence, James began again.

              “Look, the fact of the matter is that I still want my family back. My dad’s a creep and he could be dead for all I care, but I still desperately want my mom and little sister back. Can you help me get them? I just need to know where they are. I’ll do anything.”

              “You decimated those corpses,” the imposter said, changing the subject, “but tell me, how good are you when it comes to fighting real men?”

              “I know seven different disciplines of martial arts, and I can kill a man in under five seconds with my bare hands if I’m close enough. Why?”

              “What are you doing, James?” Herbert shouted.

              “Good, you’re going to kill Armand Raad for me,” the devil said.

              “What?” Herbert said. “Why? James, don’t listen to him. He won’t keep his word.”

              “Okay, that’s enough out of you,” the devil said, and drew a circle around his mouth then pointed at Herbert. In a matter of seconds, Herbert’s mouth was sealed, too. He twisted about in the air. “Mmmmmmm Mmmmmmmm Mmnnnnnnnn.”

              “Alright, boy,” the devil said, speaking to James once again. “You’re coming with me on this mission, and if you do well, I’ll tell you where your family is.”

              James narrowed his eyes. “How do I know I can I trust you?”

              “You’ll just have to if you want any chance of seeing your mom and sister again, because right now, your buddy on the floor there seems to be incapacitated. So it’s either ride with me or go home empty-handed. But I do hope you stay as I have big plans for you.”

              “What kind of plans?”

              “Big plans,” the devil said again. “Just you wait and see.”

              “Whatever you are, I don’t want you inside
my
body.”

              “Don’t worry. I won’t, that I can assure you.
You
don’t have any powers.”

              “Mmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmnnn,” Hebert said.

             
Oh, give it up
, Lorraine thought.
This is all your fault.

             
“But first, before we do anything,” the devil said, and he reached into Mr. Rovas’ pocket and pulled out his phone. He jingled it in the air. “I have to make a call.”

James

              James swallowed hard as he watched Herbert squirm in mid-air.

In the past, Herbert and Alan might have been using dark magic themselves, but it never occurred to him. In all of his time observing and dealing with them, they never scared him. But this was different. Whatever lived inside Alan now—and something
definitely
lived
inside Alan now—felt unsettling and evil. James kept his distance. 

              The entity dialed a series of numbers on Mr. Rovas’ phone, and then put it on speaker. The sound of the phone ringing on the other end filled the room.

              Herbert continued to squirm and grunt behind his sealed lips.

“MMMmmm MMMMM MMMMM!” he said.

“Will you please knock him out for me? I’m tired of hearing his lip,” the entity said.

              “Sir?” James said.

              “No need to call me ‘sir’. We’re partners now.”

              James didn’t know what to say to this. He looked at Herbert and the man’s eyes were the size of hubcaps.

             
Just calm down, you big dummy. He wants me to knock you out.

             
Herbert didn’t get the clue. He continued struggling in the air, as if he could break the spell if he just rocked hard enough.

             
The entity pursed his lips and looked back over at Herbert.

              “Yeah, definitely knock him out. I don’t want him to see the plane’s secret location anyway. Just in case.”

              “Do I—?”

              “Yes, you have to,” the entity snapped. “Do it now.”

              James blew heavy air from his nostrils and balled up his fist. He hoped to God he didn’t make the wrong choice by going with the dark entity. He stood by Herbert, closed his eyes, and swung. There was a sickening “CHOCK!” sound when his fist collided with Herbert’s skull, and the man stopped moving, his body hung limply in the air, still a full foot off the ground.

             
“MMMMMMMMNNNNNNN!!” Lorraine screamed. James loosened up his hands and shook them out. He couldn’t look Lorraine in the face.

              James walked back over to the entity but stopped short. Mort was looking at him with fierce, demanding eyes and a harsh frown.

             
Oh, God, why is he looking at me like that? Who’s controlling him?

              The repetitive sound of a phone ringing ceased and a frantic voice erupted from the phone. “Oh, my God, I’m so glad you finally called.”

              “Alright, Mr. Lampel, listen up,” the entity said. “This isn’t Mr. Rovas. I’m Alan Chandler, the son of that guy who raises corpses.”

             
That guy?
James let his eyes roam over to Herbert’s unconscious body. He felt both Alan’s mom and Mort staring at him. What had he done?

              “Where’s Mr. Rovas?” Mr. Lampel asked. His voice was soaked with worry. “What happened to the mission?”

“It’s still on,” the entity said. “In fact, we’re getting ready to move out in a few minutes.”

              “Oh, thank God,” Mr. Lampel moaned. He said it so fast that it sounded like he hadn’t breathed for the past few days. “All of my top aides have been asking when—”

             
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the entity said, cutting him off, “I just have one request for you.”

              “Request?”

              “We’re going to need a clear airspace over Afghanistan.”

              “
Afghanistan
?” the man shouted. “Where’s Mr. Rovas? I want to speak to him immediately. You’re supposed to get Raad, not go to Afghanistan.”

              “Get us that clear airspace or we’re not coming at all and you’ll have to deal with Raad yourself.”

              “Wait, what is this? This wasn’t part of the deal. Where’s Mr. Rovas? I want to speak to him right now.”

              “Mr. Rovas is dead and I’m in charge now, so get me what I need or we’re not coming. We don’t have time to waste.” and he hung up the phone.

              James looked to Mr. Rovas. His body was face down and one arm stretched out toward him.

              “Is he really dead?” James asked.

              “I don’t know, maybe. We have to get ready. I just have one more call to make.”

              “Who?” The word slipped out of James’ mouth before he could stop it.

              “People who will make us look like heroes,” the entity said.

Herbert

              When Herbert awoke, he found himself face down on a rattling, metal floor. Light shone in on the side of his face from a circular window, and it made him squint. A migraine raged in his head and his limbs sang with pain. His mouth was dry and tasted of bile.  

              “Oh, man,” came a muffled voice to his right. “I didn’t know
when
you were going to wake up. I didn’t think I hit you that hard.”

              Herbert pushed himself up with wobbly arms.

There was a great hum all around him, and Herbert quickly realized he was inside a plane. As the blurriness cleared up, he tried to focus on his surroundings. Metal benches lined both sides of the cabin and parachute sacks hung on the walls. The aircraft looked like something paratroopers might have jumped out of back in World War II.

              Herbert shielded his eyes from the oppressive light that came in through the multiple circular windows.

              “What happened?” Herbert asked. The sound of his voice surprised him. His hands flew to his face.  He had lips again.

              “I hit you really hard and knocked you out,” the voice answered. “Sorry about that.”

              James sat on the metal bench to his left. A bearded man wearing sunglasses and a flannel shirt sat beside him with a camera cradled in his hairy arms.

              Flashes of the Armory rushed forward: The red mist, the devil taking over his son, and the punch to the head.

              “When I get better, I’m going to kill you,” Herbert said. James looked around the cabin then pointed to himself.

“Who, me?” James asked. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, resting his head against the wall of the plane.

Herbert crawled over to a seat on the other side of the cabin and sat down. “Who the hell is this?”

              “Hi, I’m Taylor Gint,” the cameraman to James’ right said. His tan sunglasses covered up half his face, and his wiry white hair contrasted sharply with his dark full beard.

             
“What are you doing here?” he asked the cameraman. “Matter fact, what am
I
doing here? Where are we going?” he asked James.

              “Nimruz Province in Afghanistan,” the cameraman exclaimed. “It’s North of Pakistan.”

              “
Pakistan
?”

              The door opened up front from the cockpit area, and out came the body snatcher. He held onto the sides of the door and peeked out.

             
Herbert pushed himself up, but the imposter lifted his hand. Herbert was immobile again.

              “Let’s not try that again,” the imposter said. “I need you in good shape when we make our jump.”

              “Jump? What jump? What are you talking about?”

              “You mean you didn’t tell him?” the imposter asked James.

              “I didn’t have time to,” James said, solemn. “He just woke up.”

              “Ooh, ooh, I’ll tell him,” the cameraman said giddily. When he talked, his sunglasses wobbled on his nose. “We’re parachuting near Pakistan so the three of you can take out Armand Raad.” He offered his toothy grin. One of his teeth was missing on the right side.

              “Are you insane?” Herbert asked the imposter. The floor rattled as the plane tore through turbulence. “It’s a warzone down there. Not only that, but they’re likely going to be looking for foreign planes flying overhead.”

              “Don’t worry, I’ve got that handled,” the imposter said. “We’re going to parachute in.”

             
“And what then, huh?” Herbert fumed.

              “You heard the cameraman. We’re going to kill Armand Raad.”

              Herbert looked left and right.

              “With what army? Where’s the rest of the crew? Where’s Sgt. Belfry? Where’s General Tennanbaum? Where’s Bligh, where’s Chester, where’s Pierre?”

              “Unnecessary baggage,” the imposter said. “Why take them when we’ve got two necromancers and a killing machine?”