Chadpocalypse 1:4 - The Chosen One

1:4 The Chosen One

There was something about being thrust suddenly into Hell that managed to silence Chad. The horseman’s firm grip held him by his collar, as he dangled above a lake of lava. Far below, a man impaled on a pitchfork screamed repentance and then gurgled his last as a muscular demon dipped him into liquid fire. Red rocks, molten pools, and flame extended beyond the edges of Chad’s vision. Overwhelming was the wrong word to use; it didn’t even begin to describe the level of confusion in Chad’s booze-soaked brain. It was as though he had been dropped into an exam with no context, only the paper was lava, the exam room was hell, and eh was drunk. No, that wasn’t quite right. He tried to voice a better metaphor for his lack of understanding to the horseman, but hot sulfur caught in his throat, choking him.  

     “Do you believe me now?” asked a smug, booming voice from above.

     Chad couldn’t speak, and instead, nodded vigorously.

     “Alright then.” In one smooth motion he was yanked back through the portal and into the bedroom. The horseman ran his finger back across the wall drawing the portal closed like a zipper. A few wisps of flame escaped, but not enough to do any serious damage. They were once again left in the dim bedroom lit only by the faint red glow in the horseman’s eyes.

     The evening heat almost seemed cool in the wake of hellfire. Chad stumbled his way to the bed, and then put his head between his hands. “H-horseman of the apocalypse you said?” he stuttered. “Which one are you then?” Chad couldn’t have named the four even if he was given multiple choice, but the question seemed polite. Manners maketh the apocalypse after all.

     “Can’t you tell?” asked the horseman gesturing to his polo shirt which quickly became a flowing black robe.

     Chad looked him up and down but came no closer to understanding. “Sorry…” he said, awkwardly.

     The horseman sighed. Clearly he had been to one too many Halloween parties with an ambiguous costume. “I’m famine bro!” He parted the black robe to reveal a torso covered with lean muscle.  

     “Oh,” Chad stammered, “I see now…” Truth be told, he felt nothing other than tinge of harassment but assumed Hell didn’t have a human resources department. “Hey man, you can’t just go lifting your shirt—"

The horseman cut him off, and stepped off his horse to pace back and forth. “I cut weight, work out, and they still put me in the same robes as everyone else. I mean, really. Suppose it doesn’t matter to you, but how are people supposed to know I’m famine if there’s no form-fitting attire?”

The horse made an exasperated sigh as if it had heard this all before.

 “Yes, I know you’re hungry,” chided Famine, “but you’re cutting weight too. We have an image to maintain.”

“Sounds difficult,” offered Chad, trying not to focus on the mounting hangover that was creeping back across his forehead. I should be drinking this off by now.

“Ugh, you have no idea,” complained Famine, sounding more like a whiny teenager than a demonic entity. “Anyway, workplace politics aside, I’ve come to give you some very important information.”

     “Alright, I’m listening.” Chad tried to hold himself in a sitting position, but found it difficult. It felt as though the world was still spinning on its axis, but he had been left behind.

     “A good attitude,” sneered the horseman with a wide grin. “About damned time. Lucky we even tell one of you.” He snorted. “If Lucifer wasn’t so obsessed with fair play and gambling…” He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Getting ahead of myself again. Chad, I’ve come with a warning.”

     “Let me guess, about the apocalypse.” Chad still believed that there was a good chance he was dreaming, and didn’t put much stock in the warnings of famished equestrians.

     “Yes, about the apocalypse.” The horseman deflated, as if Chad had stolen his thunder.

     “Is it coming soon?” asked Chad. “Because, I’ve got tickets to a show, and I paid most of my rent money for them…”

     “When is your show?” the horseman asked, casually.

     “Bout a month away,” said Chad, counting his fingers.

     “You’ll make it to the show.”

     “Happy day!” exclaimed Chad, immediately regretting it. A lance of pain shot through the middle of his head, reminding him that tequila was an apocalypse in its own right.  

     “The end will come in one year’s time.”

     “Very specific, I like it.” Chad yawned, suddenly remembering that it was still the middle of the night, and he wanted to go back to bed. Even if it wasn’t his apartment, the floor had still been very comfortable. “So why warn me about it? Surely it’d be better as a surprise.”

     “Well, like I said, Lucifer loves wagers and the concept of ‘fair play’.” The horseman laughed half-heartedly. “They were enacted a while back, and don’t really go much with our new image, but it keeps things interesting for the big boss.”

     “Lucifer is your boss then?”

     “Yes, or The Devil, take your pick.” Famine paused. “You’re taking all of this quite well. Do you understand what I’m saying? In a year your world will be ravaged by demons, hell-fire, and beasts you can’t possibly comprehend.”

     Chad tried to comprehend them and gave up. “Oh sure, I understand, but there’s not a lot to be done about it, is there?”

     “Everyone you love will die.”

     Chad thought about his mum, realized their relationship hadn’t been loving in a long time, and made his peace with it. “Alright then,” he agreed.

     Famine stared at him for a moment, unbelieving, but then launched back into his spiel. “Sure, anyway, the apocalypse is coming, and fair play dictates that we have to tell one mortal. That would be you.” The horseman motioned to him with a sarcastic twirl of his fingers. “The idea is to give humanity a fighting chance.”

     “Ah, so I’m expected to stop the apocalypse.” Chad didn’t like the sound of that. Stopping the apocalypse was more responsibility than just waiting for it to come knocking.

“Not exactly…”

The horse gave a whinny that sounded oddly judgmental to Chad.

“Oh, shut up horse,” said Chad. “I’m not taking that tone from something that wears permanent shoes.”

The insult seemed to confuse the horseman, and Chad for that matter, but it shut the horse up.

Chad smiled proudly, and blundered on. “So why me?”

     “Well...”

     “Can we hurry this up? If I’ve got an apocalypse to stop, I need to get some sleep, so I don’t miss brunch.”

     The horseman’s red eyes grew brighter, and his mouth became a wide smile. “I’m telling you because no one will believe you.”